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.

Little Girl Lost

The last time I logged in I remember I was so bored and almost dying. Now, it's all still the same. Some books still lay unread, DVD's unwatched, places so foreign, people I still hide from, papers and notes blank and so much more. I feel so reckless being just myself and I really don't understand why! But, I'm really trying so hard to get out of this kind of block, whatever it is.

I should start writing again, I told myself. Because all the time I wish I would. It's just that I'm too lazy to pick up a pen and wrestle the paper with my thoughts. You heard about how Stephanie Meyer got started with her Twilight series, right? She got the idea from a dream. A dream! Then, she penned it within 3 months. 3 months! After that, she has no intention, whatsoever, to publish the book until her sister read it and persuaded her to freakin' publish it. And there it was, one helluva novel.

For me, hearing this story turns me into a stupid clam. I was a writer, a blogger, and a storyteller to my little brother when he was 3 years old until he learned about The Boy who cried Wolf and how I was only making up those stories I told him before going to sleep. But I couldn't, just couldn't even finish a single book (which I had been writing for years - I stopped counting).

Everyday I write a book. Hmp, put it in the fire.

Sigh, I go again.

I should stop looking at walls because there is an open space just outside the door that's a lot fancier. I need to go out.

A Letter from the Bottom of my Heart

Dear Reader,


I'm sorry, but I'll be gone soon.

I will be back. I promise.

I just needed time to reset.

It's true, I'm not okay. Everything I could think of right now is about dying. Dying and be nothing more than a mist.

Because it's so hard to be human. It's so hard to live.

It's painful enough to wake up everyday and sleep during the night crying to sleep, mending broken dreams, wishing desperately for collosal hapiness or at least an escape. But then in the end having none of this at all.

I really figured that in order for me to live again I should die a million times. Because it has also been a million times I had my smiles in the past and now I'm bound to frown.

Crying.

Leaving.

Death.

It all sounds so easy but are all the hardest to bare. So in this note I'd like you to know I wouldn't commit the latter in physicality. :D

So, to everyone who has been there for me thru all of these drama, thank you. Thank you for being there for me. Your names need no mentioning (nakakahiya ang cheezy kasi eh hehe). Anyway, at least through all of you I'm leaving with a happy sense of understanding that I have friends who value issues such as what I'm going thru right now, and I won't forget you all for that.

I'll see you all soon.

Peace and Love,
Ayn

Tattoo on my mind

I have to have this. It's called the Shhh tattoo. Everyone's been talking about it in Hollywood and even from some girls in my office. Well, okay I like La Lohan, but not because she has one of these (and Lily Allen too) doesn't mean I wanted to get one myself. I just think it's pretty, and hot. Pretty hot.

Okay well speaking of tattoos I once told myself that I'd ever get myself a tattoo I want it somewhere down the side of my rib cage, near the pelvic bone. I want an ultra hot mermaid to be my very first tattoo because I'm a fan of mermaids, though I know literally seeing them flesh and all meat fishy is a little too scary, either way my idea hasn't changed yet.

I talked to my mother about getting a buddism inspired tattoo when I was about 19. She called me a lunatic and has no self-respect. I talked to her about this shh tattoo a few days ago when she was still mending a broken heart from my father's so very uncalled for philandering issues and she told me that I'm her favorite daughter. I love teasing people. Shhh...

See! I should really get one!

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately and that's my biggest issue right now. I think too much. Some times, I want to quit thinking and just go to sleep. But there are just so many things I want to be answered before I go to sleep or it would be so impossible for me to sleep at all.

Last night it was about Vince again. Vince, was there ever a time I stopped thinking of this guy? Well, taking out my bragging rights, yes, there was. And it was during that time he broke up with me. I went out for weeks not thinking of him or whether he's gonna text me or not. Anyway, I made it then. But now, how come I counldn't stop thinking of him again?

I called his home phone and I was told he was not home for almost 3days. To my utter disbelief I was somehow relieve to know this. I don't know why but a couple of days he stopped texting me I was worried like hell! But now, without batting an eyelash I put down the phone and went back to my room and continued watching How I met your Mother.

Oddly as it may sound this wasn't the best part yet. The best part is the morning after.

I woke up at around seven in the morning feeling so heavy. I was sick beyond knowing. My head hurts like hell and my eyes stings. I wonder what I had done the night before, I told myself. I went into a recollection.

So I recalled the time when I got the text that the man who toured the world in 3days (Vince) has already arrived. I was told not to interfere with this homecoming scene for shortly there will be a meeting between him and the task force about his untold intensions for this quest. I sense a bitter note in that remark and so I took my leave from the exchange of text messages and sent my regards instead. It was still early then so I waited for news. I tried ever so hard to keep myself awake in case the ever so noble Man of the greatest conquest in history is to realize my existence and his longingness for my presence, but sadly there was none. I waited, hours and hours, tears after uncontrollable tears, thoughts after miserables thoughts and so on. To end this, I don't know.

To end this, until now I haven't heard from this man. And so whatever has happened to him in that 3 days I'm not sure I'd still be able to tell you what.