Looking at my last entry. Just ugh. What was wrong with me or my keyboard just then?
I'm at work and it isn't really my break time yet. But I needed to go somewhere and write something and anywhere else is overburdoning. 
I have escaped she who loved me, who could not have my heart because I was not sure there was a heart to give. 
And yet, even now, I have found the stirrings of that ancient evil emotion. Is it wrong for the courts to have not even declared one union broken before I fall into another, of sorts?
Distance...many miles but less than a full day's drive. And when we have typed...I had let some of my skeletons out of the closet...no they are not gay skeletons (or wern't when they were killed and burried). There is so much darkness in that distant past though. Things I did that I hadn't told anyone else about, no family member or friend other than those who were there. 
I am not sure it was right to share these things so soon. I could scare this fascinating creature away before we ever meet. But what is done is done and cannot be undone. 

But now the taunting voices of something from my past. Assuring me that I am doomed and that this path leads to folly and failure. I'm stronger now than when I was that miserable child contending with the monster. But last night the only thing that seemed to change is that I can actually make a dent in the inanimate object along with my fist...
Some battles leave us hollowed out, worn, sore, tired, and feeling rather pathetic in our self pity. 
And behind it all "he" laughs. Back there in the confines of my mind. 

Perhaps things will be better when I replace the automobile that I allowed the "other" to take in hopes of making this seperating process more amicable. I will be able to leave the confines of my hosue and actually go places. See living beings even if I never really belong to them. 

And that's enough for now.

 So. 

Goulash. From the Hungarian Golyas (though I may be slightly off on my spelling, my Hungarian is a little rusty...as in I've never learned the language). 
I've grown up believing that the dish should properly be made with noodles, tomato paste, hamburger, onions (if one must), and maybe chopped tomatoes. When eating it in the Southern US, I was disturbed to find it a gray gravy-like dish. I then learned of another person who had it aws a noodle soup. 
In doing some simple research, I found the Hungarian dish differs greatly from the American dish to begin with. The Hungarian dish uses paprika and peppers, with stew beef as the meat ingredient. It is much like a soup dish and resembles not hardly at all what I grew up eating. I also discovered that the American Ghoulash has gone through so many changes and varies so much from region to region that one should not even say "I love ghoulash! Give me some of that!" because one might never know what they get. Now. If that person is the adventurous type then more power to them. I wish I had an adventurous pallet but, alas. 
So the closest thing to what I grew up eating might be considered New England Chop Sewey. 
Whatever it is called, I just finished some with noodles I don't recall the name of because the store was out of elbow noodles. It was delicious. But, because I can never leave things alone, I tend to add BBQ Sauce to it. Sweet BBQ especially adds an interesting taste. Very Yom in my book. I would also suggest adding a hint of BBQ Sauce to your speghetti sauce if you are one who cooks speghetti. It is Tres' Bien. 

Yes. I gave a cooking hint. And I likely gave it to myself which is silly considering that I know how I prepare my food. That is Ok. Time is pretty much always wasted if you think about it. Stretched out to an odd angle that it is. 

So really what else is there? Goulash is the epitome of our states of being. How far have we come from the intended recipe I wonder...

"Most people are other people.  Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
Oscar Wilde