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I decided to make my first crackers a couple days ago. I found a recipe on BBC good food for Homemade rosemary crackers. I was surprised by how quickly they came together and the fact that mixing them with my hands worked so well--I barely ended up with any dough stuck to my hands when it came time to roll it out.

I have a little ravioli rotary cutter with a zigzag pattern I received as a gift many years ago. I gave my crackers a zigzag edge with it for some ~flair~. We don't have dried rosemary by itself right now, so I used Herbs de Provence. It seems to have worked well as a substitute (there is rosemary in the mix). We also don't have caster sugar, or a way to make our own from granulated sugar (we don't have a blender, a food processor, or a spice mill or anything like that right now), so I left the sugar out. I really like these. I think I might try subbing in the preservation olive oil from jarred olives or sun-dried tomatoes to give them even more of a flavor *oomph* next time. I did accidentally under-bake them, so they’re not quite ready for toppings, but I’ll get there.

Habits I am trying to relearn and reinforce since coming down from retail brain haze are the art of mise en place (roughly “to put things in their place”) and cleaning up as I go when I do anything. I wasn't taught much about procedural reasoning or kitchen logic at home or in school. It's primarily been rigorous internet self-study and tons of trial and error. I have learned to read a recipe for all of the tools and ingredients I need, to set them out and prep them before I start (I still struggle to stick to this, obviously, but it’s a practice for me not a mandate). I end up making significantly fewer errors. It also makes clean up so much easier, which means the kitchen is nice for the next thing I do.

I learned about cleaning as you go at 2-day winter French camp as a middleschooler. I was told that it is an important part of French culture in France to clean things as you go. Especially to clean up after a meal as a unit, no matter who you are in a group. At each meal, we were instructed to scrape any uneaten food or bits we didn't want into the compost, and then to rinse our dishes in a plastic tub before they were sent to the mess kitchen to be sanitized. All teachers and staff did the same. This was counter to what I learned at home.

Hello, this part may be triggering for you if you grew up or currently reside in a "hoarder house" or a house with people that have significant, unaddressed executive dysfunction issues that create an unsanitary and unsafe living environment. Please skip if you aren't up for that. Otherwise, click on the little triangle over on the left.

I grew up in a household where the adults had unaddressed executive dysfunction and mental health issues. We didn't have well-defined rooms or places for things. Some rooms’ walls were gutted to the innards. There was stuff and clutter everywhere. We had lots of mice, and their excrement was everywhere. I did have my own room, but I didn't have control over the contents until late in my teenage years. I was shuffled to a closet for a year (that had been a few other people's room throughout the years), but that’s another story. The adults were confused about my numerous, unending health issues as a child--many of them have ~mysteriously~ cleared up since I moved into an apartment that my partner and I keep pretty dang clean (after quite the dud of a place, but again, another story).

I was embarrassed. I had a handful of friends over as a child and a teenager, and I invariably stopped talking to most of the people who knew about the state of the house I lived in. My partner grew up in a similar situation. I keep meeting people with similar conditions in their childhoods. Is this particular combination of familial dysfunctions an American phenomenon, or do we gravitate to each other because something feels familiar?

I went through a stage of furious, self-righteous minimalism once I became a college student. I coldly went through everything in "my room" and donated all of the clothing I was talked into wearing/purchasing that I didn’t actually want to have, all of the trinkets I had been given and instructed to keep, every gift, every (comic/)book, every bag aside from my book bag, every single paper. Suddenly, I could get rid of furniture that had been shoved in there because there was no longer anything to put in or on it.

I could navigate the room without stubbing my toes; I had a spot for a cheap standing laundry bag; I replaced the bulky rotating chair with a small, cheap office chair for my now accessible desk--there had been two desks in there, we argued over where the second would go, and it ended up becoming someone else’s desk in a different part of the house. I went to work cleaning every surface, every nook and cranny; I dusted the walls, cleaned the baseboards, shined the windows, aggressively vaccuumed the carpetted floor, and wiped everything I could with warm, soapy water.

I absolutely cleared off my desk every day when I was done with my homework. I developed habits. I did my best to doggedly guard my space against clutter intrusion from others. I dusted and cleaned and vacuumed on a schedule: it became a compulsion. I was proud of my little space. My mother would take naps in my bed without asking when I was gone because it had become the “nicest room in the house”.

My mother was angry that I gave things away, and would exasperatedly try to go through each bag with me to make sure I was sure that I didn't want these items. She stole things out of the donation bags and tried to sneak them back into “my room”, or squirreled them away to try to give to me at a later date. She is still trying to give me these things (both old and “new”).

I gave away so many objects that were precious to me. But the thing is, I ultimately don't care about those things—they may have represented a memory or a wish that someone had about who/what I would become, but I would rather live for now, for me. Even as I get older, my attachment to objects has mainly remained coldly related to their functionality. I refuse to live the way I did in the house where I grew up. Part of the equation has been refusing to buy new things unless they prove necessary. If the object is a replacement, the old item is given away, rather than treating the “new” one as an addition.

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The reason I talk about these matters here is because they are socially taboo--I was taught to value my family's "privacy" and false image over being honest. I share in the hopes that if you grew up this way, or are still in a situation around this type of setting, perhaps you are comforted by the fact that you are not alone in that/this reality. I am still working through so many things related to my childhood home life, but I am starting to feel better and that perhaps I am moving on in some ways. I think we have to talk through things to process them, and find people that can relate or are willing and able to spend time sympathizing with us. That can be for anything in our lives. I've read so many articles, forums, and first-hand accounts; I've seen therapists; I've talked to people with similar experiences and with absolutely no experience with these issues. It has helped me contextualize and de-personalize so much of it, and learn healthier habits and coping mechanisms moving forward. Ultimately, I have begun to feel understood, and this has been one of the most important gifts in my life.

Anyway, on the topic of clutter, I went through my fb account to untag myself from photos and deactivate my account. I didn’t realize that there was an option for what they do with your account once you die now: I set it to be deleted. Then I deactivated it. I likely won’t open it again until after my birthday--which I removed from my page. I’m hoping no one shows up to write anything. I always make sure to say "thank you", and the thought of not doing so feels oddly rude, even though I conceptualize fb interactions of this type as passive communication generally from people I barely know anymore. I’d rather quietly spend the day with my partner, and receive calls or texts from a few special people.

I also went through my inst*gram account and started unfollowing accounts. Ideally, I want to get to zero and close it out for good--I’ve become absolutely overwhelmed by it and don’t find myself learning anymore so much as beating my head against a wall as I endlessly scroll. It’s honestly become a form of self-harm at this point. I worry I’ll hurt people’s feelings as I unfollow them?? I wonder how many other people are doing the same thing? I don't like the self-imposed feeling of being responsible for providing fleeting, ultimately unfulfilling external validation for strangers, and on the flipside expecting the same from them. This is why I started emailing my close friends again; I want direct, mutually fulfilling connections.

That's also part of why I like Neocities so much. I can customize my site to reduce the amount of feedback I can receive, so that I don't obsessively look for engagement or feedback. It's a big part of why I have chosen not to add disqus to any of my entries, or create a guestbook (yet??). I feel like I end up sharing more authentically. My site has become primarily an open journal and place for free expression rather than a personal external validation machine. I don't mean to say that people with comment sections are doing that by any means(!); simply that Neocities helps me manage my own struggles with social media addiction by giving me the power to remove elements of internet culture that topple my interal progress.

Thanks for stopping by! Please know you're never alone in whatever you're dealing with, no matter what it is. Seeya next time.