Overcooked Peas

For lunch, I tried my hand at cooking one of my improvised recipes. Pork Barbeque. Without the grill. It's more of like a stew actually.

I marinated my pork in my barbeque marinate for about 15-20 minutes then sauteed it in oil. Afterwhich, I dropped in the marinate with cornstarch for it to have a thicker consistency and a cup of frozen green peas. I let the mixture simmer for a few minutes then took it off the stove.

My mom, a seasoned cook herself, gifted with an unbelievable cooking prowess without even setting foot in a culinary school, started criticizing my dish.

"Too salty. Too thick. The meat is not tender enough."

Uh-oh.

The meat is not tender enough.

The first cardinal rule in Angie's (my mom) kitchen (and in any kitchen for that matter) is that the meat must be tender enough. If not, even if it tastes really good, the dish will be dumped.

So my pork barbeque made its way back to the stove. I added a cup of water and let it boil for ten minutes.

Within that ten minutes, I picked up my cell phone (i don't use my cell phone in the kitchen). I had two messages received. One saying thank you for the birthday card I sent and the other asking for an appointment at two to four in the afternoon. I only have to give a lecture at four so I said 2-4 is fine. Feliz, my cousin started dancing and running around the living room while singing (in words I cannot understand) Defying Gravity with Elphaba and Glinda. I can hear my mom cooking in the kitchen.

I went out to check on my pork dish and just as I thought, the peas were overcooked.

I took a small pork chunk to test how tender it is. No. Not tender enough for my mom.

My mom started her meat tenderness lecture (again) while chopping vegetables.

"Alam mo namang gaano man kasarap ang luto mo, pag hindi labog ang karne, itatapon yan"

"Takpan mo. Kaya naman pala hindi lumalambot"

"Masyadong maraming sauce!"

"Paano ka magtatayo ng restaurant niyan?"

And her ranting goes on and on and on.

I didn't argue. She was right anyway. I should have cooked the meat longer. No, I shouldn't have used pork casim. The original recipe called for pork loin, not casim. Loin is a lot less tough than casim.

Tough luck, no pun intended.

It only shows that I need more practice. A lot more.

If The Shoe Fits...

This morning, my mom and I went upland to eat in a famous restaurant in Liliw called Arabela. The last time I ate there was almost a year ago when Rochie and I went on a road trip in the upland towns. I told my mom I'll treat her to lunch and maybe we can buy some sandals or slippers since Liliw is also famous for the Tsinelas Street.

Unfortunately, Arabela was closed. It so happened that the resto closes on Mondays as it is their rest day. Too bad. So we decided on just strolling along Tsinelas Street and maybe score a few purchases.

And then I fell in love with a pair of glittering bronze sandals on display in Badong's Footwear. And the price wasn't so bad. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. I asked a salesgirl for my size (39 in Liliw, 8-9 in Manila shoe shops) and after searching the bodega, she dropped the bad news. Size 39 was out of stock. She told me a new batch would be coming in on Wednesday. I don't know if I could come back the next weekend as my calendar's already packed till Sunday.

I cannot believe my luck (or the lack of it) as I searched the store for more, that would have my size. But somehow my feet kept bringing me back to those bronze sandals.

I looked at it again, tried size 8 again, hoping that it'll fit this time but to no avail. My mom paid for her purchases and we walked out into the sunny Tsinelas Street. After that Arabela disappointment and those bronze sandals, I just sighed and hopped into the car. I don't feel like going around and looking for other shoes that I may like. I just wanted to go home.

While on my way down the zigzag road, I thought about those bronze sandals and how a similar thing happened to me a year ago. I won't delve into the details.

For me, buying shoes is like love. Akala kasi ng tao, basta-basta ako pumapatol. Gaya ng sabi ng mom ko, 'anak, parang walang nanliligaw sa'yo. At saka parang hindi ka namba-busted.'

When my mom talks about such things, I just smile and dismiss her. But there was this one time that I got really pissed off. It's time she knew the truth.

'Ang totoong rason kung bakit hindi ako namba-busted, Ma, kasi, suplada ang anak mo. Ang totoo niyan, kapag ayoko sa isang tao. Yun na yun. Ayoko na. Hindi ko na binibigyan ng pagkakataong kausapin ako. Kasi ick.'

'At saka, ang alam mo namang antisocial ako eh. Hindi ako sasama kung ayaw ko at bayaran man ako ng milyon, pag ayaw, ayaw. Ala nang ligawang magaganap. Tamo si Glicerio. Katakot-takot na insulto ang nakuha.'

Pero syempre, ang lahat ng bagay, may opposite. Pag naka-gusto ako, gusto talaga. At harangan man ng sanlibong kabayo at sibat, gagawin ang lahat makuha lang yun. Yun nga lang may mga bagay na alam ko kung kailan kailangan nang sumuko.

Parang yung sapatos. Bagay siya sa paa ko, bihira yun. Kaya ko siyang bilhin. Kaso hindi kasya eh. Yun ang pagkukulang ko. Hindi siya para sa paa ko. Iniisip ko pa kung babalikan ko sa isang linggo. Kung worth it ba. Kung pagbalik ko by then eh may kakasya na sa akin.

Pag-iisipan ko pa.

At magaling ang kung sino mang makakabasa at makakaintindi sa post na ito.

Inappropriate yet...

(a letter to a very special person)

In about one hour and 15 minutes, birthday mo na. I picked up my cellphone countless times tonight wondering if I should call or text. But everytime I attempted to dial your number or start composing a text message, I would change my mind and just put the cellphone down. Really, I wanted to call you and greet you personally, but I don't know if that's a good idea. I might not get the response I want and might just feel worse than I do now. So wish to forego. But that does not mean I forgot. I will never forget.

Here's a text message forwarded to me by a friend. I don't know who wrote it but it's exactly what I want to tell you.

Being with you was like being on top of a building. It was finding tranquility in a world of chaos. A sense of being one with nothing. A detachment from the world below me. Satisfies me. But I didn't stay, I didn't even get closer, for I am altophobic. I fear that getting nearer means going to a higher state of happiness, and unable to control myself, I just might let go, fall, and hurt myself again...

Happy Birthday.

La Vie Boheme (The Bohemian Life)

I never really thought of myself as bohemian. I mean, I look very mainstream, actually. Not just mainstream. Preppy, even. But what is the definition of bohemian, anyway?

bohemian – a person (as in writer or artist) living an unconventional life

Am I living an unconventional life? No. At least not before dark. Because once darkness starts creeping in, profession is set aside for passion. After watching Rent (movie), I saw in it many things that I wish I could do, I saw in it principles and ideals that I have, I saw in it a piece of myself.

To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing…

Did there ever come a time when you would think that whatever you’re doing right now isn’t supposed to be what you’re actually doing? It’s a time that the closest people in your life start questioning what’s wrong with you. That often happens to me. Well, often is an understatement. That happens to me all the time. People always ask what’s wrong with me, yet they never ask what’s wrong with them.

The need to explain, to communicate…

I hate explaining. For me, the highest level of trust is trusting without having to understand why. Something I wasn’t given the luxury of. I live in a world where I have to justify everything I do. And there are times I don’t want to justify. Because there’s no justification, and “I just want to” isn’t enough for an explanation.

To starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension…

I don’t need much attention. I thrive well even without continuous supervision. Actually, I perform better when people just leave me alone to do my stuff. I hate to bend into what’s traditional, I want to do things my way. And that’s it.

To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy…

Sometimes I just don’t give a damn as to what’s happening around me. I’ve had enough meddling with other people’s business to last me a lifetime. But there are times that I can’t help it especially if it’s my friends who are involved.

No way to make a living, masochism, pain, perfection Muscle spasms, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders

I hate living in a world where everybody judges you by how you dress, how much you weigh and things like that. I specifically hate it during this one time when I had a crush in this boy. I wasn’t expecting much but what hurt me most is that the reason he didn’t want me is because I’m not pretty enough. Not thin enough. I don’t have a high-bridge nose or fair complexion. Well, I thought there’s nothing I can do about that. Later, I figured, there is something I can do. All those superficial things money can buy to make you look a lot better than you really do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against beauty because I, too, am aspiring to be beautiful. But one important lesson I have learned is that beauty comes in different packages. There is no universal criterion for beauty. And those who don’t look beyond the skin, are people who choose to be blind to the things that a person can really offer. Whether that maybe what’s between her ears or her lungs, and not just between her legs.

Film!

One of my frustrations is becoming a scriptwriter for film or a maybe even a playwright. Ever since I was a little brat, I’ve been imagining story plots while looking out of my bedroom window. And up to now, one of the goals in my young adult life is to complete a script which I can submit in any scriptwriting contest. I even took film units in college just to quench my thirst for knowledge in that field.

Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, Dark rooms, perfect faces, egos, money, Hollywood and sleaze

Yes, I dreamt of making films. But from the shallow love stories with unbelievable happy endings, my storylines have changed over time. It has progressed into somehow relevant stories about families, societies and social classes in struggle.

Music!

I wouldn’t fall in love with musicals if I didn’t like music in the first place. When asked what my favorite genre is, I cannot give a definite answer. I like pop, alternative, new wave, retro, even non-secular. But what I love most is musicals because from all the genres I mentioned, songs from musicals are more emotional. After all these songs are actual conversations between people or an expression of how the character truly feels. Nothing is stronger than that.

Food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, Rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition

During my grade school days, one of my teachers asked us to bring a handkerchief big enough to be able to cover our eyes with. And with that, she told us to blindfold each other and start feeling the things around us, without seeing them. It was a wonderful feeling. I learned that sometimes, it’s better to see with your eyes closed, sounds are louder if you choose not to listen, and gut feel is strongest when you don’t feel a thing.

Anarchy!

In Los Banos, Laguna, traffic at around 4:30-5:30 in the afternoon is at its worst. Especially during Fridays. Maybe it’s because of the volume of vehicles trying passing on a very small road. But I don’t blame the vehicles. I blame the traffic enforcement. In the many times that I passed by that intersection, I deduced that if the motorists are left to sort things out themselves, traffic ain’t that bad. But once those yellow boys start implementing their system, be ready for a traffic jam. That’s when I realized that there are times that a society thrives better if there’s no organization governing it. Like DLRC. We have rules but there’s no government. Everybody has an equal voice, whether new or old. And we get by with it.

Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions, Forcing changes, risk, and danger Making noise and making pleas

Just a few days ago, I experienced red tape at its finest. Ask me where. The Land Transportation Office. Standing in line with countless sweaty males waiting for my turn in the photo booth, it’s not hard to imagine why our country is going nowhere. You have to hand it to the people in government. Earlier, when I was still lining up in front of the evaluator’s window, I was confident because I was first in line. But that confidence evaporated when I saw that the evaluator put my paper at the very last because it’s not folded, meaning there is no money inside. My driver told me what to do. I refused at first but seeing that my paper will not be going anywhere in the next hour or so if I don’t go with the flow, I hesitantly gave my driver a few bills to my papers move. From being number one in line, I became number 60. Pathetic.

To faggots, lezzies, dykes, cross dressers too

In my office, they cannot believe that most of my friends are either homo or bisexuals. I always tell them that I don’t really mind. Which is true. I’m not after a person’s gender. Being gay doesn’t make a person any less human.

To me! To you!

This world is a world of individuals. I believe that no two persons are the same. Not even identical twins. And with that, we can’t really box people into their classifications. Everyone always has a twist. Not because we dress alike, or talk alike or even look alike means we think alike and even if we do think alike there will always be one thing that will distinguish our individuality.

To people living with, not dying from, disease

Disease is not just physical. It’s also mental, emotional and spiritual. Sometimes, when we get hurt by people we love, it’s like a slow, painful death. But we always have choice. Let it control our lives and kill us or live with it and eventually get over it.

Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn!

What really pisses me off is when people criticize me with the things I do. And if I screw up, they always make it a point to push me buttons. There’s this person who always criticizes us in everything that we do, as if he’s the only person capable of doing the right thing. But the real deal is, even he is not in the position to say such things to us. Who wants his twisted principles anyway? And how dare he lecture us on what to do when he can’t even look us in the eye and tell us that he’s happy.

Anyone out of the mainstream? Is anyone in the mainstream?

Mainstream? What is the mainstream anyway? What does our culture dictate as mainstream?

Anyone alive with a sex drive?

Oh c’mon, we’re all adults here.

Tear down the wall. Aren't we all?

That’s right. We all are.

The opposite of war isn't peace. It's creation.

What does peace mean anyway? Not because it’s peaceful means that war’s over. Ceasefire doesn’t mean that war is over. For as long as there is no progress and people can’t live in harmony, may it be due to religion, caste, or politics, war isn’t over. And not because we are divided means that war is still on.

After all, everything is relative.

Now, can you blame me if I am so hooked to Rent? I’ll end this post with four words.

Viva! La Vie Boheme!

Rent (musical) written and composed by Jonathan Larson
Rent (movie) directed by Chris Columbus under Revolution Studios and Paramount Pictures.
Stills downloaded from ropesofsilicon.com

Unmasking Venice

What's the difference between a function and a relation?

Well, that depends on who you're asking. Because for me functions can lead to relations.

No. No. No.

This has nothing to do with functions and relations in mathematics. I can't even differentiate the two.

This is about a different kind of function. Which can later on lead to good relations.

August 26, 2006

I've been waiting for this day for so long. Well, since Rodena mentioned it a month earlier. It was her first big function. An Italian function, no less. And she's the dining manager. I knew I had to go. So I went.

function n. a formal ceremony or social affair

relation n. the state of being mutually interested or involved

Kannika and Noah waiting in line to unmask Venice

My original date stood me up (again). Good thing I asked Kannika to accompany us beforehand so I didn't have a problem. We met Len and her friend Bianca near the venue so that we can sit together.

UNMASKING VENICE

There she was, dining manager Rodena, in a three-piece suit and high heels. All made up and looking very sharp.

Sangria Italia

Rodena warned me that the punch they will be serving is spiked. No kidding. The moment it touched my lips, I tasted the fusion of brandy and red wine concealed in that glass of pink lemonade. I have an unbelievingly low tolerance for alcohol so I prayed that I can tolerate it lo ng enough for me to go home afterwards.
Being the function that it was, Len and I started looking around and criticizing everything. From the walls to the Carpenters' song that was on loop in their sound system.

Insalata Italiana

Now this is one dish I didn't prepare for. You see, I'm carnivorous. Simply put, I don't eat veggies that much. More so if it's in a salad. And insalata = salad. Darn it.

Pollo Cotto e Pasta in Pesto

When I read it, it sounded like a disease. But when I saw it, I didn't look half as bad as I thought. But I had second thoughts before my knife pierced into the chicken's flesh. Why? Because earlier, Kannika and I saw a chafing-dishful of chicken plunge into the garden between NIML and Alonzo Hall. The chicken on my plate can be one of them. But what the heck.

Noce Budino del Cioccolato

Too bad they gave us a tiny teeny piece of this cholocate-walnut sensation. It was amazing.

Rodena doing the thing she does best!

The afternoon went well. I got to meet Rodena's mom. brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law (actually, I've know Liz since freshman year). And I got to spend time with Len and Kannika, keep up with each other's lives.

Lorelyn and Noah posing in the comfort room after the function

The next function will be Len's on September 8. Dinner, French. I want to go, that depends if I play my cards well this week. But till then...

The three of us goofing around (as always) with the Headless Hunt.