Jello and Poetry

Wednesday

I am practically foaming at the mouth at how excited I am about the Jello salad we made today. As most crafts begin, Maddy and I were overcome with a sense of dread. I’m not sure if it was really dread, but it definitely did not feel positive. 

We discussed this feeling as we walked down the stairs, four things on my mind. Eliza and Alienor had provided us with a list, and we knew exactly what to get. 

1. A mold

2. Canned fruit

3. Marshmallows 

4. Plastic figurines. 

As Dollarama was only a short walk away, I soon began scouring the aisles. Marshmallows in one hand, circular cut pineapple in the other, things were going pretty well.  Eventually, Maddy and I settled in the toy section to pick our figurines. The good old American I am, I searched and searched for some green army men. Nowhere!! North America these days… all they had were single packaged characters. We looked a bit more, and there it was. A four pack of animal-print cars. It flew off the shelves and into Maddy’s arms, just like in the Magic Finger by Roald Dahl. 

Now we were on to the easy part - the mold. This was the initial purpose of our trip as it was clear the Jello deserved a shape just as regal as its contents.  Aisle after aisle, my eyes scanned floor to ceiling. Nothing. No molds. The only things they had were mixing bowls which we already own. I became overcome with a gripping sense of nostalgia. Whatever happened to Bundt cakes?

Propping ourselves up against the wall as if to gather some sort of emotional comfort, Maddy and I discussed our options. Whatever would we do? 

Deciding to return home, we chose on a small mixing bowl. Jaimie came in as a fresh mind suggesting we use a smaller dish to create a hole in the middle. Just like I had imagined!

Spirits back up, we continued our journey. 

Layer one: lime jello with maraschino cherries.

Whenever I think of maraschino cherries I am brought back to the pink honey scandal, but that’s a tale for another time. 

Layer two: whipped cherry jello with egg whites and cream (the whip was not happening, which led us to add the cream and egg whites). Troubleshooting did not improve the situation. In this layer, we incorporated marshmallows and canned pineapple. (Yes, the disk shapes. Before you say it, we were impressed too. The perfect Jello ingredient!) 

I accidentally got some water in this layer, creating this nice mix of Jello that closely resembled slime with liquid around the edges. 

I quickly put it in the fridge, hoping the water would break the laws of science and evaporate away. This, unfortunately, did not happen, as the next time Maddy took it out she commented on the separation, worried that we did something wrong. Charlie had recently returned home; I drew strength from her comforting presence and my Year of Bravery, coming clean about my mishap. 

For those of you who don’t know, it takes time for the Jello to set in between layers. Either way, despite our ingenious use of the materials around us (snow from the roof to create an ice bath), the Jello was not ready and the clock was ticking. It was 11PM and it was going to be an early morning. Maddy had class and Jaimie and I had planned to rise and grind. 

A part of me wondered it had something to do with Eliza leaving, our muse had gone home. 

So, we covered it up and stashed it away in the fridge. Sleep tight!!

24 Hours Later….. Thursday at 8PM

Maddy, Eliza and Ady came back over and we pulled it out of the fridge. I was glad to know Ady was around because she’s told me about her Jello Salad experience (I knew I was in good hands).

It was time for the cars. We began by pouring in the green Jello. I knew from my Jello handbook that marshmallows were floaters, but my eyes still widened in shock. I winced as the marshmallows dislodged from the previous layer and rose to the top. We foraged on, adding in the cars and putting it back in the fridge. Alienor came home and we put on real housewives, our work was done for the night. 

Friday

Now it was time. The Jello was in the fridge, and we were all anxiously waiting to see it revealed. The internet told us to run the mold under hot water, so that we did. Alienor drew strength from her time waitressing and stepped up to the task: she turned on the water. We let it warm up for a few seconds and then began to lift the bowl up, unveiling the Jello. It got off to a pretty good start, retaining its shape very nicely. 

Then, we got to the middle. Trouble in paradise, let me tell you. Immediately, red juices started leaking out of the edges of the pan. Complete structural failure, the Jello cake collapsed. 

Let me set the scene: 

Team morale was at an all time low, but we began rooting through and salvaging the bigger pieces. We transferred the chunks we could to another plate and lo and behold - a circle. The cake was reformed. It looked very janky at this point, so we began adding in other smaller pieces of green jello over the cracks. 

(Let me be clear, the Jello pieces that remained were those containing the cars. Specifically, they were made of clear Jello which is flavorless. Oops!)

Maraschino cherries and sprinkles went over top, and as I stepped away I marveled at our creation. It was better than I could have dreamed. I knew that the talent show winners were in for something good. 

I opened my window and turned off the heat in my room as we put the Jello in there for safekeeping until it was time to give the prize. The act that won was the fight scene from Marriage Story, and much to my surprise the winners did not have anything negative to say about the taste of the clear jello. Maybe they didn’t eat any, if that was the case I would understand. Some things are just to0 beautiful to destroy. 

Here is the slam poem Alienor and I performed for all those curious:

Man Has Feelings

Sometimes I look at the ceiling, I look at the ceiling and wish I was looking at your eyes instead, those shimmering balls, 

Reflecting the glimmers of a thousand seas seas that were conquered by men such as Colombus and others on boats carved out of natures babies; trees. Trees that make up everything we own, our houses, our beds, my bed, my womb of a bed

Womb of a bed but not my mother’s womb because she abandoned me 

Abandoned me like im scared you will abandon me because love nowadays is just money and sex

And sex when I say sex, sex I mean something completely alien from the sacred love that we share, 

The touch of heavens small angels taking us both up to the skies, like very light Boeings 747s, their gentle wings brush across my back

“Life rafts are located below your seats” but there are no safety nets when it comes to love 

There will be no warnings when we take off…..

Take off? Take off? Take off your clothes, You ask? NO! No, I’m not one of those who looks at women’s bodies ands think of things like that. 

The other day —it must have been last Monday, you looked at me, tearing your eyes away from the green bike he shows you….

Green… green. Green board in our classroom, green the color of grass, green and red, colors of Christmas, Christmas, Father Christmas. It reminds me of family, love, happiness. 

A happiness That was taken away from me as a child, my mother looking at the clock, her suitcase, and her new lover beside her before she left me sitting alone and cold.

A baby under the Christmas tree, Santa baby under the Christmas tree I hate that song

At only 19 years old, three weeks without your mother’s touch feels like a year, a century, an eternity,  

Don’t do to me what my mother did. 

They say women are all the same but I don’t believe it I hear but I don’t like it 

So listen to me as I beg on my knees like a defeated, yet still powerful, Bill Clinton - I don’t like what I hear 

Sometimes I remember when Don told Johnny “you turned out to be a Hollywood finocchio that cries like a woman,” - and GOD, I love the godfather but I disagreed then, and I disagree now; women are powerful. 

You are powerful. Full of power like a glass is full of milk; milk that spoils when left out 

But I won’t let our love spoil. It takes two to tango but I will dance this one alone.

Don’t you know I got a job for you, don’t you realize, do you even care, do you even know what a Boeing 739 is? 

I am thinking about the future and I see you looking at me when you hold his 

Strong, muscular, built, veiny arms, I know that he works out I know I ask myself – does he swim, does he bike?

I mean yes, yes, haven’t you seen him in his bright yellow bib shorts?

Aaaaarrrghhhhh I don’t care because I see your eyes, as they watch me and they hope to catch mine like a fox catches a mouse, primal, passionate;

You want me, I want you, but there he is like metal separating two magnets. The other man, you make me the other man. 

Be strong, I said women are powerful like goddesses of milk and my middle name means the one who waits waits weight upon my shoulders 

The shoulders I thought could brush boeings 3499 but instead, you leave me here to sit in this concord’s cockpit alone.

Inside my mind at 10 years old

I like to flatter myself by thinking that since the fifth grade I've changed a decent amount. Unfortunately, last night I rediscovered some of my old notebooks/journals and had to reckon with the fact that I haven't changed much at all.

I've decided to share some of the highlights.

As a child, I considered myself a bit of a writer. Up until yesterday, I wasn't quite sure why as I never really got around to doing any actual writing. I guess I had this assumption that I could write gold if I tried, but I had better things to do. Fortunately for you all, I do have quite a few original songs.

This song was inspired by the Hunger Games. Some of you may be surprised that I never got into fan fiction; I like to think in an alternate universe I did, gathering a massive fan base.

Here is another song I wrote:

I hope the pause = short pause and pause x2 = long pause helps to clarify some things for you.

For a brief period in fifth grade, I decided to become religious. To aid myself with my nightly prayers, I constructed this list of things to remember to bring up. I think by carbon dioxide leaks I meant monoxide, this may have been after learning about how you could die leaving a car running in a closed garage.

Here, I have a class seating chart. I am not exactly sure why I wanted this in my notebook, but I am sure I had a very good reason.

On December 3rd. Again, not sure why this was something I wanted to remember.

It was good to know that Tang (TANG) has always been something on my mind.

For about eight months from 2014-2015, I wrote "notes for the night" in my journal before bed every night I could manage. Notes for the Night consisted of me sitting beside my window, counting every car and person that went by. This went on for about fifteen to twenty minutes, where I would write down descriptors, like the outfits of these people, if there were any unique cars like a taxi or truck, and any other things out of the ordinary I noticed.

December 4 2014: Who knew ten minutes of looking out the window every night was taking such a toll on my sleep schedule! Clearly, it was worth mentioning the circles under my eyes.

This was separate from Notes for the Night, but still me keeping a watchful eye on my street. Some reason I felt that this was very important, mentioning it many times.

February 25, 2015: My gym teacher dyed her hair, and I had some very strong feelings about it. I also, when rereading these pages, was grateful for the helpful drawing on the bottom. The equation really helped me understand how Wednesdays used to make me feel!

March 31, 2015: This one was shorter on the descriptions, but I had a lot of life events to write about. Of course, I had to comment on how the day before I used the 23rd page of my notebook, which was crazy because my class numbers of both fourth and fifth grade had the number 23 in them. WOW! Then, I switched to pen, to demonstrate my strong feelings about this subject, to tell my journal how I felt about my sister having a golden birthday party. I wonder if I was just jealous my own "golden birthday" wouldn't be until I turned 22. Finally, I tied it off with one of many reminders to conduct a "glowstick experiment" which I described in thorough detail over and over throughout this notebook but don't think I ever conducted. I guess I will never know!

April 9, 2015: I'm glad I was so concerned about straining my eyes in low light. Hasn't done much good.

This one doesn't have a date, but I do still hate inventors. So true!

And now, the pom-pom saga. These three pages are spread over a couple of different days, with a common theme of me being a massive cunt.

In another notebook I have my friends Instagram bios chronicled. I'm not sure how I learned these, since this was before I had Instagram.

That's all I could bear to read for now...

My Favorite Things

As a child, often as I was falling asleep, I would scan my room and pick which of my belongings I would save in a fire. The answer was always my stuffed animals.

I would imagine myself throwing them off the side of the building, down to the safety of the trampoline the firefighters had laid out on the street. I’m not sure if they actually use trampolines, but I was certain about this part of the story. Some would bounce off, most would land upright, waiting for me down below as I climbed down the classic fireman ladder. (Why there was both a trampoline and ladder is beyond me).

Today, I was sitting on my rug as I often do. I started to think about what my favorite belongings are all these years later. A list of top ten was too overwhelming, so I decided on an assortment of favorites, in no particular order. I have many more, but as Tati once said, "time and place."

This might also be partially inspired by one of my most cherished songs as a child, "My Favorite Things" from the Sound of Music.

So, here you are.

1. My robot. I actually have four robots, a complete one, a robot head from my Halloween costume, another robot head from an old can, and a 2D cutout, but my favorite is the full-bodied one. He is about two feet tall, which is a very rough estimate; I have always struggled to determine how big a foot actually is. Currently, this robot, which has no name, is sporting my one winter hat and a pink eye mask with polka dots.

It is possibly my favorite thing I have ever made, and I have a strong emotional connection to it. Sometimes I think about how I could the Geppetto to his Pinocchio, although we all saw how that turned out. I actually do not know how that turned out, because I don’t remember the plot. I would imagine not ideally.

I love talking about robots always so I can elaborate on any of this at any time ever.

2. My purple/pink high heel. This comes from the Phoenicia church thrift store, and while I have yet to figure out the perfect thing to put inside, it serves its purpose well as shelf decor. It reminds me of the Wicked Witch from the West (or East), even though I looked her up a few weeks ago and Google told me she dons a red shoe instead. Were they THE red shoes? (By The Red Shoes, I mean those that Dorothy finds/uses). I don't have the answers to these questions.

3. My neon pink and orange calculus textbook. Jaimie spotted this find. At first I thought I had no use for it, but she soon made me realize that the cover is use enough. Math meets style and awesomeness. Now everyone who comes into my room will know how smart and fabulous I am.

4. My two green glass lamps that don’t have bulbs or shades. I’ve added pipe cleaners in the shape of light bulbs to the top, and I always wonder if it’s ever tricked someone. Unlikely, but I hope so.

5. My collection of cats. I am not a particularly cat centric/catty person and I never source them out, so I’m not sure how I’ve gathered this collection, but here they are. Boy, am I grateful! Yes, my desk is dusty. That's life (that's life), thats what all the people say.

6. My silver bowtie necklace. This one is the classiest thing I own. Every time I wear it, I like to imagine the world stops spinning on its axis for a moment.

7. My cheetah pillowcases, green sheets and orange duvet combo. The cheetah pillowcases are the newest addition, and while I don’t think it has a high enough thread count to be something a Real Housewife would own, it makes me feel like one of them. This looks better in person, my camera is not doing it justice.

8. My gold sequin table cloth. This might have been my best yard sale find of the summer. Originally, I had it on my bed, but it shed so many little pieces of wax that I had to cut my losses and put it on my desk.

9. My mouse lamp. It does a weak job light-wise but it’s both on theme with the mice that live alongside us, and has a very cheeky energy which I appreciate. I like that he's holding up the light bulb for me - he also doesn't have a name. Maybe something to work on.

1o. My set of keys that say "Violet's Bitch Mobile" that Alienor, Charlie and Jaimie gave me alongside a Razor scooter for my birthday. I have always aspired to have bitch mobile, and this might be the closest I get considering my crippling fear of getting my license.

That's ten items - tapping out for now.

VIolet

Honorary mention - my beaver bottle opener.