Chicken of the Sea-Word

The meal that Liv makes in this episode looked so good but don't be decieved!

I made a tuna-stuffed tomato and... Not great. I even went to the lengths of putting a hard boiled egg, celery and a tiny bit of relish to make it more tasty, but I'm not realizing none of those have a strong flavor. The tuna was just that... lacking flavor. And I don't like tomatoes. I mean I like small cherry tomatoes. I think I even like grape tomatoes. I don't like those huge thick tomatoes... Unless cut up into a sandwich.

The tomato was thick, cold and a mildly flavored.*

Apparently it was a Limited Edition Tomato! I didn't know that was a thing that happened!

Oh yeah, the crab/brain was good.

So, are you wondering how I gutted the tomato and prepared the tuna?

Just as the recipe suggested: carefully.

And voila! Look how pretty I made it....I even added the red pepper flakes from Dominoes on top. Just so I could taste something.

---

So many good moments in this episode. Mostly: "We used to be friends a long time ago". Shout out to Veronica Mars! Which I am incidentally watching because my internet is down and I can't watch the new season of iZombie. You're going to see a lot of music tweets.

Another great moment: Ravi's face when Liv lashes out at him with her bitchy housewife brain. Something I love that hurts a little.

This episode illustrates the vulnerability of the "drama queen". The brain Liv eats is

emotional and takes things personally and reacts. To those who are less high on the emotional spectrum, this looks like "over-reaction". Liv is offended by Vaughn DuClarke (ok I know that's spelled wrong) and then is offended that Clive doesn't stand up for her and unravels. The women that were the victim's friends act out in the "bitchy real housewife" we pay to see on TV, but really they're just offended over not being invited to each other's parties. It all comes from an emotional wound that gets exacerbated by everyone's reactions, etc. Some of them are blatantly like: You hurt my feelings, and others lash out but for the same reason. It made me have a lot of sympathy for these women. They're basically acting like ten year olds, and ten year olds can be hurtful.

Dramatic people get a bad rap...but they just have a lot of feelings that they don't know how to resolve or sometimes handle. I have a friend who is overdramatic, but she just cares intensely about things.

---

This is not my favorite story, but at least I wrote one.

The first few days were the hardest. We were separate and I was lost. I saw you once, tears streaming down your face. I walked away.

Weeks past until I saw you again, the sun shone on your face, your skin glowed and you almost looked happy. I found myself gravitated towards you, like an invisible force. So I followed you through the park. I watched you lift your feet with all the might in the world to trudge on. I don't know what you would've done if you knew I was there---slowed down, sped up? The thought weighed on me, slowed my steps to a crawl. You left the park and I stayed. I'm sure you went home to your new apartment that night. To a new roommate? A cat maybe? What did you replace me with? Did you replace me at all?

I knew you as I always did. I knew where you would go on Saturday mornings, where you would shop. And I was in all of those places. I needed to see your eyes. I needed to see you, as you really were, not what you were telling other people, not what you were telling yourself. I'd just look into your eyes and see how you really were. See if you needed me. Once I saw your eyes again, I couldn't let them go. I think I knew this would happen.

I watched you smile at strangers like you used to smile at me.

I watched you hold a purse, like you used to hold my hand.

You ate a salad, paid a bill.

I watched you stroll back through the park, and this time, I rustled through the trees and I followed you around the corner. I watched you grab your mail and turn up the stairs.

I watched you through the window, watching the rain fall, like you once fell for me.

I watched you lay your head on a pillow, like you used to lay on me.

You were alone. I knew that wouldn't last.

I watched you everyday for a month and nothing changed. You went to work, walked through the park, you shopped on Saturdays. You spent your nights alone, and it broke my heart. I bet you didn't think that could happen again every day, but it did. My heart broke again and again. And still nothing changed.

I watched you let me go, and I couldn't let go of you.

I needed to feel you. To breathe you in. Like we used to spend our nights together breathing each other in. But I haven't breathed a breath since I last held you in my arms. I found myself rushing, chasing you down streets. I almost called your name.

I was around every corner waiting, but your eyes never glanced my way. I was one with the shadows, working up the courage to step into the light. If I was lucky, I'd catch a whiff of your perfume. Although, if I'm honest, I think I was smelling memory.

This night was colder. I expected my breath to fog up the glass, but it didn't cloud the view of you across the room. I slipped through the door and felt the warmth of the restaurant, smelled the aroma of pasta sauce. I think when I'm around you, I can still do those things---feel. You smiled. For a flicker of a moment, I took it as a look towards me, but there was a well-dressed man who accepted it instead. He sat beside you. I thought I could get close to you without you noticing, but I saw the hair stand up on the back of your neck. I swear I heard your heart beat faster. I retreated. But I watched your fingers circle your wine glass. I watched you relax your shoulders and breathe more easily. I watched everything go well...without me.

I felt myself take-off, not sure where I was going. And then I found your car. I waited there in the cold. And eventually you came. Eventually, I looked into your eyes, and saw you. You came close enough for me to touch, to smell, to feel. Your skin bristled, turned to gooseflesh. I reached out for your hand, and you stiffened. And I knew. I knew your hand felt like it had been plunged into dry ice, and I was being selfish. I knew you couldn't see me, and it would break your heart to know I'd been following you. Justice in a way, torture in another, to know both our hearts would be broken.

I tried to breathe, but I could only feel your breath. I tried to feel alive, but I could only feel the glow of your life. And then I think you saw me. I knew then that you hadn't let go. But you were alive, and I wasn't. You had to do what live people did, and that's taking a tiny step day by day away from the pieces of you that are missing, away from me.

Just for a flicker of a moment, I could hold your soul in mine and you could feel that I was there somehow, saying goodbye, or I'm still here, or I'll be with you in eternity, just not right now. Then I let go.