Here are some stuff I've been scribbling while I'm physically located at work but psychologically not. Sorry but most of the times this happens.
...in this corner
stands in the horridness of boredom
accentuated by aloftness
covered in a cloud of smoke
emulsified by praises and weirded eyes
we play.
key in lust
know when to use it
make way for that line
never a minute, never from a single stand
we play.
~~~~~~
when there is time to think, you wont
when the air is pressed, you can't
when space is white, you darken
think.
I did this and i did that
you had this and you had that
acceptance at hand
comprehension is bland
I don't know how to explain these to be honest with you because my mind was just playing around so in case you're finding these lines ridiculous then we'll all have to wait until Christmas. Haha. Just kidding.
Happy Halloween everyone!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Before the Plunge
I have a feeling that I should be writing today. This is because I also have a feeling that I wouldn't be able to find time to write here for quite awhile again. Unfortunately, my thoughts aren't cooperating. No! That can't be. I really really want to say something before I take the plunge.
I'm going to start working again as a copywriter. Tonight will be my first night on the floor. Yesterday, I went on training together with some graphic artists who will be deployed with the Creative Team. I was the only one who was to work with SEO. You see, I went into this training knowing all my questions will finally be answered by the trainer, but no, she was downright clueless herself about my field of work.
Anyway, I guess I'll be fine. That's what everyone was telling me. That I'll be fine. But I was like, nah, I don't know.
Before going to bed finally for the last time of being a bum I played Backyard Monsters (raised and hatched me some Pokey's and Finks. About 20 of each. Whew!), Mafia Wars (Moscow, baby yeah!) and lastly MMA Pro (Ftaghn be damned, I'll beat you next time).
I'll see you next time, my dear blog. I'll miss you until the next time I see you. Take care of yourself please.
To Parag Lavine of Bombay, you were always right about IT. Thank you for not giving up on me.
To Melissa Reyes: Sorry OG.
To Rey Villanueva: Sorry...I forgot.
To Emman Publico: Sorry Alabang.
To Jigs: Sorry PC Mall
To April Limbo: Sorry Singapore company(unless you guys offer me that freelance job as well hehe)
To Francis Jan Quinabo: I'll take that some other time (ang yabang ko haha!)
To KC Ochoa: I need you back
To Vinz Natividad: I need you to help
To Kaiye Roldan: I need that ...
To my brother koniks: I need you to stop whatever you're doing, dancing, if that's what you call it, because you're becoming so annoying I'm becoming nauseous.
To my Lola Luming and my mother who is about to go to the Antipolo Cathedral: I love you both.
Shit. This is cheezy! I'm not signing out or saying good-bye, okay. I'm just going to bed.
I'm going to start working again as a copywriter. Tonight will be my first night on the floor. Yesterday, I went on training together with some graphic artists who will be deployed with the Creative Team. I was the only one who was to work with SEO. You see, I went into this training knowing all my questions will finally be answered by the trainer, but no, she was downright clueless herself about my field of work.
Anyway, I guess I'll be fine. That's what everyone was telling me. That I'll be fine. But I was like, nah, I don't know.
Before going to bed finally for the last time of being a bum I played Backyard Monsters (raised and hatched me some Pokey's and Finks. About 20 of each. Whew!), Mafia Wars (Moscow, baby yeah!) and lastly MMA Pro (Ftaghn be damned, I'll beat you next time).
I'll see you next time, my dear blog. I'll miss you until the next time I see you. Take care of yourself please.
To Parag Lavine of Bombay, you were always right about IT. Thank you for not giving up on me.
To Melissa Reyes: Sorry OG.
To Rey Villanueva: Sorry...I forgot.
To Emman Publico: Sorry Alabang.
To Jigs: Sorry PC Mall
To April Limbo: Sorry Singapore company(unless you guys offer me that freelance job as well hehe)
To Francis Jan Quinabo: I'll take that some other time (ang yabang ko haha!)
To KC Ochoa: I need you back
To Vinz Natividad: I need you to help
To Kaiye Roldan: I need that ...
To my brother koniks: I need you to stop whatever you're doing, dancing, if that's what you call it, because you're becoming so annoying I'm becoming nauseous.
To my Lola Luming and my mother who is about to go to the Antipolo Cathedral: I love you both.
Shit. This is cheezy! I'm not signing out or saying good-bye, okay. I'm just going to bed.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Under the Pillow
Some dreams come true and then some will come to an end unearthly as you can ever imagine.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Trapped in the Drive-Thru
I heard this first from my brother one early morning. He was playing it so loud that I was woken up instantaneously. I was not mad. I was, as a matter of fact, amused. It made me laugh so hard I asked him to play it again for me as I prepared my coffee. As the song was playing, once again I was laughing like crazy. Then my brother sang it to me. I could not believe he knew the lyrics so well! He said he'd been hearing it from our cousins for quite a while now. Wow! The next thing I know, I'm trying to memorize the song. Anyway, I just want to share to you Trapped in the Drive-Thru by Weird Al Yankovic. =)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Did you hear that, mother?
You know what day it is today? It's Sunday. And I'm sure you know what's the most important thing in the life of a catholic family when it's Sunday, right? No stupid, not watch Manny Pacquiao match, mass! Mass, right?
Oh don't roll your eyes on me now because I'm telling you what your about to read is something you'll surely remember for the rest of your life. I mean it.
First off, I gotta tell you something about myself. Okay, I know this is painful for both you and I but I really gotta do this or else you'll miss the whole point on why am I blogging an episode of my life on a lazy day Sunday. I promise to keep it short but straight. So here we go.
I'm already twenty-five years old and I still haven't finished college. I stopped in my sophomore year. When I left school I went to work in a call center for three years. I did that because I had to save money so I can go back to school. During that time my parents were starting to get really bored of my collegiate prattles that they felt they needed a break. Anyway, so I worked hard and earned quite a few. My plan was to continue studying even if I was working during the graveyard shifts. That never happened. Why? Good question. Well, not because the graveyard shift gave me unhealthy sleeping patterns but because of these - the money was scarce, my parents became ruthlessly uncaring about our education and was content of having a mediocre life spent huddled up in the mountains far from civilization and I became the unfortunate go-to person in the entire family so as to say the bread-winner. I did another job as a copywriter because my parents felt that my obligation isn't done yet and that my newly acquired position as the bread-winner wasn't well kept. So this time I earned a lot better. Better enough to send me back to school. But still I couldn't. Same reasons I intricately elaborated right above. Come the start of year 2009 when my parents had an inkling that I may have the desire to go back to school and finish my degree they sent me back to study. A year after, or I should say maybe less, my mother started complaining about money again. My father was already working in the middle east and is already earning quite a lot yet still money is an issue. So I had to stopped schooling again.
That is my story. And that is just sad.
I love my parents, you know. I love my family. But the more I think about the stuff I'd been through all these years, not finishing school and all, makes me wanna regret everything I'd done for them and start pointing fingers - outwardly. I start to think that my parents had become ruthless, totally unmoved or perhaps they were abducted some time back and now they're this evil aliens trying to squeeze the life out of me starting by the time they made me quit writing for my college's school newspaper.
Anyway, let me now connect that to my topic. So my mother, Konics and I attended the mass today. We were seated about 3-4 pews from the altar, best seat in town. I sat beside mama. Then when you think you're about to fall asleep the priest will start off with his homily. Suddenly I was wide awake. Despite my limping eye sight my ears got stuck on the priests sermon when he said something like this: "God wants tell the people that when you do good to others you don't have to tell them hey, I did that for you as if bragging." He continued with some examples and the best one he cited is this, "for the parents, you don't say oh, if it weren't because of me you wouldn't be able finish school. Because you know very well that sending your kids to school is your obligation." Yahahahaha hahahahahah hahahahahahaha ahahahaha ahahahah hahahahahahaha.....
God, that was hilarious. And can you imagine how awkward it was for my mother to hear that. Did you hear that, mother? Oh geesh, that was insane. But honestly, I felt that that homily was meant for me. I mean, for once I felt that the heavens conspired for this very special day just so that my mother can hear the ugly truth.
PS. The Ugly Truth stars Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler. I was actually watching it on HBO while entering this. Katherine Heigl sucks because Gerard Butler is just so irresistible from the start. =)
Oh don't roll your eyes on me now because I'm telling you what your about to read is something you'll surely remember for the rest of your life. I mean it.
First off, I gotta tell you something about myself. Okay, I know this is painful for both you and I but I really gotta do this or else you'll miss the whole point on why am I blogging an episode of my life on a lazy day Sunday. I promise to keep it short but straight. So here we go.
I'm already twenty-five years old and I still haven't finished college. I stopped in my sophomore year. When I left school I went to work in a call center for three years. I did that because I had to save money so I can go back to school. During that time my parents were starting to get really bored of my collegiate prattles that they felt they needed a break. Anyway, so I worked hard and earned quite a few. My plan was to continue studying even if I was working during the graveyard shifts. That never happened. Why? Good question. Well, not because the graveyard shift gave me unhealthy sleeping patterns but because of these - the money was scarce, my parents became ruthlessly uncaring about our education and was content of having a mediocre life spent huddled up in the mountains far from civilization and I became the unfortunate go-to person in the entire family so as to say the bread-winner. I did another job as a copywriter because my parents felt that my obligation isn't done yet and that my newly acquired position as the bread-winner wasn't well kept. So this time I earned a lot better. Better enough to send me back to school. But still I couldn't. Same reasons I intricately elaborated right above. Come the start of year 2009 when my parents had an inkling that I may have the desire to go back to school and finish my degree they sent me back to study. A year after, or I should say maybe less, my mother started complaining about money again. My father was already working in the middle east and is already earning quite a lot yet still money is an issue. So I had to stopped schooling again.
That is my story. And that is just sad.
I love my parents, you know. I love my family. But the more I think about the stuff I'd been through all these years, not finishing school and all, makes me wanna regret everything I'd done for them and start pointing fingers - outwardly. I start to think that my parents had become ruthless, totally unmoved or perhaps they were abducted some time back and now they're this evil aliens trying to squeeze the life out of me starting by the time they made me quit writing for my college's school newspaper.
Anyway, let me now connect that to my topic. So my mother, Konics and I attended the mass today. We were seated about 3-4 pews from the altar, best seat in town. I sat beside mama. Then when you think you're about to fall asleep the priest will start off with his homily. Suddenly I was wide awake. Despite my limping eye sight my ears got stuck on the priests sermon when he said something like this: "God wants tell the people that when you do good to others you don't have to tell them hey, I did that for you as if bragging." He continued with some examples and the best one he cited is this, "for the parents, you don't say oh, if it weren't because of me you wouldn't be able finish school. Because you know very well that sending your kids to school is your obligation." Yahahahaha hahahahahah hahahahahahaha ahahahaha ahahahah hahahahahahaha.....
God, that was hilarious. And can you imagine how awkward it was for my mother to hear that. Did you hear that, mother? Oh geesh, that was insane. But honestly, I felt that that homily was meant for me. I mean, for once I felt that the heavens conspired for this very special day just so that my mother can hear the ugly truth.
PS. The Ugly Truth stars Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler. I was actually watching it on HBO while entering this. Katherine Heigl sucks because Gerard Butler is just so irresistible from the start. =)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Tough Love
Lately it's been so hard to deal with my mother. Ever since we've had this problem with papa regarding some serious third-party issues, nothing has been the same.
It started around June this year. A couple of days after my birthday I remember getting a text message from mama that something seriously wrong has been going on with papa and that we need to talk about it. When I got back home from work I saw mama seated on the sofa right in front of the altar with her eyes closed bitterness dawned in her. As I got near her I realized that she was crying. Then she spoke to me and broke the news. Papa has another woman. She does not know who, does not know where and moreso when did it started but she knew. The more I listened to her the more I became numb as I stood there looking down at her. I had no clue what to feel about this. I may have said I became numb or frozen in time as she spoke the bitter truth about papa's infidelity but really I don't know how to take this. I think what I did back then was rolled out my eyes and walked away from her. Hey, I was tired!
Anyway, that's not true. I wasn't tired. I was just not feeling anything about the issue. I was like "this is normal!" "everybody's going through this..." "you know you can do something about this..." and that very luck-luster line "everything's gonna be all right!".
Until I learned how weak my mother was. Day in and day out she did nothing but pray then leave the house and come back by dinner time. Later I found out that what she was doing outside the house was not doing her any good. She had been attending bible studies and after that gossiping away about our situation and then rant carelessly about whomever the other woman was to anyone - as in anyone - who would care to listen.
Eventually, I grew tired of her actions. For me they were very childish and stupid. My mother's mother (our grandmother) and so as her own siblings tried to intervene a couple of times regarding this tell-all but it's just no use. When she's out, she tells the whole world about this shameful issue on papa, then when she gets back to us she wouldn't give a damn telling us what's up and she'll act like "you already know what's up! Now let's eat dinner and head off to bed after. No more lounging around." Talking about manipulation. You don't just manipulate people, let alone your kids, when you don't explain to them why the hell you're doing what you're doing. Because if you don't explain, you'll miss the part of being understood. I mean, how will we know there's still something wrong with her, right? Sure, me and my siblings understand the fact that something fragile was already broken. But like I said, we have to take this positively. Well, we did. By "we" I thought, at first, was us all. But I was wrong. Mama drowned in her distraught, in her bitterness and in envy and sad to say none of us were able to pull her back.
Now, everything becomes an issue. Everything that would boil down to her inability to comprehend the facts of the matter or when we can't find any sense in what she's fussing about, she starts blaming papa and what he had done to her. I don't know, but even though I'm with her everyday of my life I don't know if I missed something or if I cracked my head because I don't understand what's become of her. All this stuff that she says has affected her this much has already simmered down a month after it went into full blast. So I don't get it why she's still so upset! My siblings and I were already able to cope up with the problem that even though we were the ones who were so affected and were hard to put in talking to papa that time, we were still able to get up, accept the fact that something went wrong and believed that everything will be fine then we just went on with our own lives. But how come she's still there?
I'm the eldest of three. I'm the toughest and the more experienced when it comes to relationship because my younger sister, Iris, is NBSB, and our youngest, Konics is only twelve. I said a lot to mama on this issue of infidelity and most of them are based on my experiences. I'm not an expert and needless to say I'm no psychiatrist but what I tried to do is make mama know her ways out of her predicament. Sure, this is an issue about only the two of them can solve regarding their love for each other and the marriage that binds them, but this is also about family. About all of us. On simple terms, what I did is help. A help from a daughter to her mother whom she doesn't want to be miserable all her life. This is about love.
The Beatles said "all we need is love". I say aye. And for those people who believe that love has ruined them and that they'd rather stay that way forever, well, look out there punk because I'm pretty sure that you're just not looking at the bigger picture.
It started around June this year. A couple of days after my birthday I remember getting a text message from mama that something seriously wrong has been going on with papa and that we need to talk about it. When I got back home from work I saw mama seated on the sofa right in front of the altar with her eyes closed bitterness dawned in her. As I got near her I realized that she was crying. Then she spoke to me and broke the news. Papa has another woman. She does not know who, does not know where and moreso when did it started but she knew. The more I listened to her the more I became numb as I stood there looking down at her. I had no clue what to feel about this. I may have said I became numb or frozen in time as she spoke the bitter truth about papa's infidelity but really I don't know how to take this. I think what I did back then was rolled out my eyes and walked away from her. Hey, I was tired!
Anyway, that's not true. I wasn't tired. I was just not feeling anything about the issue. I was like "this is normal!" "everybody's going through this..." "you know you can do something about this..." and that very luck-luster line "everything's gonna be all right!".
Until I learned how weak my mother was. Day in and day out she did nothing but pray then leave the house and come back by dinner time. Later I found out that what she was doing outside the house was not doing her any good. She had been attending bible studies and after that gossiping away about our situation and then rant carelessly about whomever the other woman was to anyone - as in anyone - who would care to listen.
Eventually, I grew tired of her actions. For me they were very childish and stupid. My mother's mother (our grandmother) and so as her own siblings tried to intervene a couple of times regarding this tell-all but it's just no use. When she's out, she tells the whole world about this shameful issue on papa, then when she gets back to us she wouldn't give a damn telling us what's up and she'll act like "you already know what's up! Now let's eat dinner and head off to bed after. No more lounging around." Talking about manipulation. You don't just manipulate people, let alone your kids, when you don't explain to them why the hell you're doing what you're doing. Because if you don't explain, you'll miss the part of being understood. I mean, how will we know there's still something wrong with her, right? Sure, me and my siblings understand the fact that something fragile was already broken. But like I said, we have to take this positively. Well, we did. By "we" I thought, at first, was us all. But I was wrong. Mama drowned in her distraught, in her bitterness and in envy and sad to say none of us were able to pull her back.
Now, everything becomes an issue. Everything that would boil down to her inability to comprehend the facts of the matter or when we can't find any sense in what she's fussing about, she starts blaming papa and what he had done to her. I don't know, but even though I'm with her everyday of my life I don't know if I missed something or if I cracked my head because I don't understand what's become of her. All this stuff that she says has affected her this much has already simmered down a month after it went into full blast. So I don't get it why she's still so upset! My siblings and I were already able to cope up with the problem that even though we were the ones who were so affected and were hard to put in talking to papa that time, we were still able to get up, accept the fact that something went wrong and believed that everything will be fine then we just went on with our own lives. But how come she's still there?
I'm the eldest of three. I'm the toughest and the more experienced when it comes to relationship because my younger sister, Iris, is NBSB, and our youngest, Konics is only twelve. I said a lot to mama on this issue of infidelity and most of them are based on my experiences. I'm not an expert and needless to say I'm no psychiatrist but what I tried to do is make mama know her ways out of her predicament. Sure, this is an issue about only the two of them can solve regarding their love for each other and the marriage that binds them, but this is also about family. About all of us. On simple terms, what I did is help. A help from a daughter to her mother whom she doesn't want to be miserable all her life. This is about love.
The Beatles said "all we need is love". I say aye. And for those people who believe that love has ruined them and that they'd rather stay that way forever, well, look out there punk because I'm pretty sure that you're just not looking at the bigger picture.
Friday, October 1, 2010
My First Adobo
I'm pretty sure I've told you that I don't know how to cook. So I won't expect you to question me about my post today. My first Adobo. Yeah yeah, it's silly, I know, but I really have to tell you something about this.
You see, one thing I learned so much about my self when I was with Vince is that there is an inner cook in me. Because I seriously LOVE food! And I don't just love eating them, I also love to know how they are prepared. I love to eat and I think so does everybody else. But later on I realized something was seriously wrong about me on this. Everyone I know knows how to cook (if not almost)! That kind of freaked me out a bit. It is because I have some kind of fear about cooking since I was in high school and since then every time I get near the stove I'd freeze that my eyes bulge out of its socket and my skin starts to prick.
I have so many horrifying moments in the kitchen that if you're a member of my family you'd know that I'll be a disaster once you let me go in there. One of the best (and yet horrific) moments of my kitchen life was when I was left home alone by my entire family in our house in Antipolo. Disclaimer: This is stupid. This is so stupid I tell you, this is going to kill my credibility. So, if you're a close friend of mine, I have to say this to you, I don't mind the distance okay, as long as you still text me or call me every now and then.
Going back to the story. I was left at home, alone and was told to cook rice and then prepare the table because they'll be the one to buy roasted chicken outside to go with the rice (very pinoy). So I did what I was told. I washed the rice grains on the casserole and put water up to the level that's just exactly right to cook the rice and then put it on the stove. I placed it carefully and graciously on the stove. After that, since I found that very easy to do I roamed around the house a little bit just to make sure everything is in order and just when everything is all good I went back to my place in the sofa and continued watching TV.
A couple of minutes more my entire family arrived - my sister Iris looking very grumpy, the youngest Nico almost falling on the floor, very tired from the trip (I forgot where they came from) and then Mama and Papa with some hefty bags. I helped them in, looking graciously normal and of service. Now here goes the horrifying moment. Iris asked, "Have you cooked rice already? I'm so hungry." At the moment I nearly peed my lifetime supply of pee in my youngster shorts.
From the time I placed the casserole on the stove until that very moment in time I stood holding the door ajar I have never thought of what happened to the rice I was cooking. The rice! The rice! The rice! What in the name of Elvis Presley happened to it anyway? But as I began to wonder whatever happened to that stupid rice for dinner my heart sank 300 feet under. Mama opened the casserole and found out that the poor rice grains were never even cooked at all. All this time it was soaked in water inside that casserole and I forgot to put the fire on! I forgot to put the goddamn fire on!
Well, that's the end of it. Mind you, it was just one story I told you. You haven't heard of my stupidity over frying fish. Nah.
Anyway, I go back to this first time with Adobo. Well, this time it's different. Why is it different? I don't know. It felt different! This time I think know what I'm doing. Oh well I'm not entirely sure I was decided to know what I was doing. At least I know I'm not missing out on something. Yes, I put the fire on this time. But yet something more was different. While I was cooking, I wasn't exactly minding what I was doing. I was cooking, alright, but also I was pretty much doing it like I had been doing it for the longest time! It also felt like someone was telling me to dice the garlic, cut the chicken, put just a little bit of oil and blah blah blah, and I didn't mind. As I can recall it perfectly, my mind was like flying away from the kitchen window. I remember I was even telling a story to my self about a group of friends working on an out of town charity event for the less fortunates to learn how to skate and participate in a longboarding festival! Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking that time and it felt great! A little more imagination flaring here and there and after a few more minutes my Adobo is cooked. Voila!
It was as perfect as I had imagined it, not until my younger siblings came and insulted my cooking. Oh but still, it was a great experience! For the entire time I was in the kitchen I totally forgot all about my fear of cooking and my disastrous moments doing what I had just done. It was simply the best.
This episode of my life - cooking - is finally stepping in to my horizon. It was used to be shaded in gray like an old photograph I dared not to look at, but now it meddles in with the rest of my colors - blue, white, pink, yellow and green. It's all because we have to think positive and that changes doesn't always have to be shoved in your face, it can happen even by just letting your imagination flow.
You see, one thing I learned so much about my self when I was with Vince is that there is an inner cook in me. Because I seriously LOVE food! And I don't just love eating them, I also love to know how they are prepared. I love to eat and I think so does everybody else. But later on I realized something was seriously wrong about me on this. Everyone I know knows how to cook (if not almost)! That kind of freaked me out a bit. It is because I have some kind of fear about cooking since I was in high school and since then every time I get near the stove I'd freeze that my eyes bulge out of its socket and my skin starts to prick.
I have so many horrifying moments in the kitchen that if you're a member of my family you'd know that I'll be a disaster once you let me go in there. One of the best (and yet horrific) moments of my kitchen life was when I was left home alone by my entire family in our house in Antipolo. Disclaimer: This is stupid. This is so stupid I tell you, this is going to kill my credibility. So, if you're a close friend of mine, I have to say this to you, I don't mind the distance okay, as long as you still text me or call me every now and then.
Going back to the story. I was left at home, alone and was told to cook rice and then prepare the table because they'll be the one to buy roasted chicken outside to go with the rice (very pinoy). So I did what I was told. I washed the rice grains on the casserole and put water up to the level that's just exactly right to cook the rice and then put it on the stove. I placed it carefully and graciously on the stove. After that, since I found that very easy to do I roamed around the house a little bit just to make sure everything is in order and just when everything is all good I went back to my place in the sofa and continued watching TV.
A couple of minutes more my entire family arrived - my sister Iris looking very grumpy, the youngest Nico almost falling on the floor, very tired from the trip (I forgot where they came from) and then Mama and Papa with some hefty bags. I helped them in, looking graciously normal and of service. Now here goes the horrifying moment. Iris asked, "Have you cooked rice already? I'm so hungry." At the moment I nearly peed my lifetime supply of pee in my youngster shorts.
From the time I placed the casserole on the stove until that very moment in time I stood holding the door ajar I have never thought of what happened to the rice I was cooking. The rice! The rice! The rice! What in the name of Elvis Presley happened to it anyway? But as I began to wonder whatever happened to that stupid rice for dinner my heart sank 300 feet under. Mama opened the casserole and found out that the poor rice grains were never even cooked at all. All this time it was soaked in water inside that casserole and I forgot to put the fire on! I forgot to put the goddamn fire on!
Well, that's the end of it. Mind you, it was just one story I told you. You haven't heard of my stupidity over frying fish. Nah.
Anyway, I go back to this first time with Adobo. Well, this time it's different. Why is it different? I don't know. It felt different! This time I think know what I'm doing. Oh well I'm not entirely sure I was decided to know what I was doing. At least I know I'm not missing out on something. Yes, I put the fire on this time. But yet something more was different. While I was cooking, I wasn't exactly minding what I was doing. I was cooking, alright, but also I was pretty much doing it like I had been doing it for the longest time! It also felt like someone was telling me to dice the garlic, cut the chicken, put just a little bit of oil and blah blah blah, and I didn't mind. As I can recall it perfectly, my mind was like flying away from the kitchen window. I remember I was even telling a story to my self about a group of friends working on an out of town charity event for the less fortunates to learn how to skate and participate in a longboarding festival! Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking that time and it felt great! A little more imagination flaring here and there and after a few more minutes my Adobo is cooked. Voila!
It was as perfect as I had imagined it, not until my younger siblings came and insulted my cooking. Oh but still, it was a great experience! For the entire time I was in the kitchen I totally forgot all about my fear of cooking and my disastrous moments doing what I had just done. It was simply the best.
This episode of my life - cooking - is finally stepping in to my horizon. It was used to be shaded in gray like an old photograph I dared not to look at, but now it meddles in with the rest of my colors - blue, white, pink, yellow and green. It's all because we have to think positive and that changes doesn't always have to be shoved in your face, it can happen even by just letting your imagination flow.
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