Combine milk and butter, scald.  Crumble yesterday's cornbread into the scalded milk mixture until it reaches desired consistency of mush.  Drizzle on some buttermilk (approx ¼ cup) and maple syrup to taste.  Eat.  Yum.

This would probably be better cooked in a pan that had just fried bacon. If you ate bacon, that is... which I don't.    *Sob*

And so the sisters shopped - for clothes, for shoes, for bags (I was not successful in finding a bag that called out to me), for gadgets.  Lord, help me - I want to buy a Mac, its cheaper here and I can here it calling my name.

I also got to stay with my sister at her flat.  She was so proud showing me around her flat and her little world that I can't help but be proud of how independent she has become.  She and her roommates have a clean and spare flat.  She has made friends with her neighbors already and she looks to have adjusted well.  Sometimes, she would say that while everything looks ok, there were times that she felt homesick and lonely.  It was heartbreak for me, I tell you.  But its good to know that she can stand on her own.  It was a concern for me because she was always the one that was so close to my mom and dad.  I felt that she would have a tough time living so far away.  I was right but she's coping real well.

I did get to taste what her life was like - I rode the bus, the MRT, shopped for groceries, threw her garbage, went to Mass.  For me, it was part of making sure that she's ok.  If I learned some of her routines, then I know that she can handle stuff.

I'm meeting up with her again this weekend.  Because she was working nights and I had work in the mornigns, it wasn't really possible for us to spend much time during the week.  Plus I had a full load of work plus the workshop stuff so I really have to concentrate.

More about my Singapore trip soon.  I'll tell you if the Mac called my name so loud, that I just had to listen to it.  :)

So today I'm gonna read on the spiritual side, maybe write some poetry, do some relaxing of the cogs and wheels.  Nuff said.

Peace,

My long overdue spring cleaning had revealed heaps of junk and some extra-gooey mushiness on the side

So, welcome to my room!

Super cluttered and unwomanly, i know

More (yuuucky) detail shots

But I have great plans for my tiny hub!

I shall keep you posted on the developments. Until then, I wheel out, now!

I worry about being given the chance to go back the times I wasted and yet do the same stuff all over again.

I worry about having too much power thus make me forget how much I need my Redeemer.

I worry about procrastinating too much (as usual) and end up the same person that I had along yesterday and the days before that.

I worry about 'me' driving way too fast forgetting that I'm defenseless because I don't have a license yet.

I worry about not being able to touch my loved ones anymore.

I worry about my food intake today.

I worry about worrying too much and keeping my eyes off Jesus.

William Wordsworth, the English poet, wrote, "The child is the father of the man." Events of your childhood shape your destiny and future as an adult.

We are the product of our genes and chromosomes, our heredity, and our environment. But the question is: "Must our future be determined by our past?"

Long ago Paul wrote, "Forgetting what is behind..." (Philippians 3:13). Paul knew we would be thinking of that. "Let s fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12:2). It's the upward look, not the backward glance that gives us hope for tomorrow.

It was my lola's birthday also that day and I really called on her to help me (from above) to make the day ok.  When I was saying my prayers that day, I actually cried.  I remembered her lang and it made me sad.

---0---0---0---0---0---0---

"Don't dwell on it so much, just say what's in your heart. You'll soon find the truth that was hidden there all along."

"As much as I love him, his heart belongs to someone else. And whatever I do, however I try, nothing can ever change that. All I can do is smile and do my best to try and make him happy."

"Good night my muse, sweet dreams.
Let calm sleep ship you to peaceful dreamland.
Where I'll be waiting throughout the night,
Until wonderful morning light claims you."

"The sunlight shines on my face
Morning has come again
Stealing me from wonderful slumber
And sweet fantasies of you."

"I don't think you see me
But I'm here watching you
You are my muse, my inspiration
The center of my romantic dreams

And so here I am writing
Another love-filled ode to you
The only thing I can really do
To let out all my love for you."

" 'They say that if you look into someone's eyes, you'll see the person they love, the one they fix their gaze upon.'

I laughed and joked, 'So, who will I see in your eyes?'

'Why don't you look for yourself?' he challenged, his tone more serious than playful.

With great hesitation and a blush tinting my cheeks, I shyly looked into his bright smiling eyes. I gasped and choked out, "I see me. No one else but me.' "

"With a small sigh, I let out all the disappointment in me, and forced a smile on my face to hide all the sorrow in my heart."

"And as he walked away
The smile faded from my face
No need to keep pretending
I was happy and content

I didn't mean to fall in love
So I keep on smiling for him
But seeing him makes my heart ache
Because I know he'll never love me."

---0---0---0---0---0---0---

And there's my mushy romantic-slash-angsty pieces. I know they're not much but I loved them. ^_^

By the way, here's something I just learned. Apparently, I'm quite good at guessing things. Steel really does like Armé. I only thought that they'd be perfect in Dreams but...

...too bad Skye likes Steel a lot.

Anyway, I'm gonna go again. I'll see you later. Au revior. ^_^

♥ Eceined

I wanted to blog about the Tagaytay road trip I had with my high school buddies and my first visit to Caleruega and the Pink Sisters.  I remember making a mental note of making sure I have a garden when I get a family.  Because seeing all the beautiful plants and flowers in Caleruega made me want to start my own garden.  I also told myself I would blog about how a restless mind and a noisy afternoon can calm instantly the minute you step into a church and hear Mass.

I went back to Tagaytay the week after that road trip with my HS buddies.  This time, to celebrate my mom and dad's anniversary.  We've had roadtrips to Tagaytay before but my mom and dad haven't been to Caleruega before, so we basically did the road trip I had the week before all over again.  My mom stopped crying over the fact that my sister weren't with us when she saw the lovely foliage at Caleruega.  She also filled the trunk of my car with plants.  That was when I thought that people who worked with plants must be very happy.  I mean, how can you not be happy when you see flowers everyday, right?  Btw, the pic of me and my mom was taken during that Tagaytay trip.  We had lunch at Buon Giorno at Cliff House.

And then yesterday, I wanted to blog about a work colleage from the Netherlands who I had a very interesting conversation about Europe, America and Asia.  It was his first trip to Asia and he was impressed by Manila's size.  He said that they always know of the big cities of the West - London, Berlin, Barcelona, New York, California, etc. - but they never knew that Manila was this huge.  Ok, so I never thought that Manila was that huge, but I guess seeing Manila for the first time would give you that perspective.  We talked about politics, history, how the rest of the world perceives America, food.  It was an interesting dinner we had.  In the morning, I showed him around our office, since he wanted to see the view of Manila that I kept bragging about (we were at the 48th floor, after all).  Then he wanted to see Makati and he went from mall to mall - Greenbelt (from 1-5), Landmark, Glorietta.  He walked and walked and never took a break.  So when I met him at 6pm, he was ready to sit and just relax.  It was an interesting dinner with interesting conversation.

Well, that were some of the things I wanted to blog about but didn't find the time to do so.  :)

Today's Mother's Day was different.  We didn't have my sister around, so it just wasn't the same.  My mom didn't cry because my sister wasn't here but then she was sniffling because of a cold, so I'm not really sure.  We just stayed at home all day since we attended a neighborhood party until midnight and the oldies were tired.  Then we just had food delivered for dinner.

And so, my mom.  If someone asked me about my mom, what would I say?  Would I tell about how we grew up believing all mommies can bake cakes and make bread and have fun cooking, all because she whipped up cakes and bread every weekend?  Would I tell them how my mom believed in eating in rather than spending in restos?

But that's just cooking and making sure we were all well-fed.  Should I harp about her habit of packing everything up so that if she hid something, its sure not to be found?  Or maybe how she refused to go out without curling her her in rollers?  Or how she felt frustrated when I would leave the house with hair still wet and no powder?

Maybe I should tell you about our relationship as adults.  She has always kept quiet about my relationships, only speaking about it when I opened up.  I remembered the time when I was so frustrated with good friend R that I opened up to my mom and she said that I deserved better and that under no circumstances should I call him again.  She also didn't say anything when she found out that I went out again with him.  They (mom and dad) watched from a distance, trusting that I was making the decisions according to what I thought was right and also trusting that they have raised me up properly and I would know what to do.

I remember telling my mom about the homeboy, about that time when he was supposed to be going to Manila.  She listened patiently with my story and when he didn't show up, my mom kept quiet.  And we never talked about him since.

Then there was a time when a high school batchmate gave me flowers for my birthday and my mom knew that he was married.  All I told them was not to worry and that I wasn't encouraging this guy and that I will take care of it.  (The guy was mistaking my friendship - we were batchmates, after all - and thought I was receptive to his advances).  I told the guy off, in no uncertain terms, and my mom knew I was handling it right.

I've been very vocal about wanting to leave home and live on my own.  She would just keep quiet, knowing that, of all her children, I was the most independent and strong-willed.  And finally that's happening soon and the one thing I did when I saw the development was show my mom.  I had to have her opinion if the place was ok, if it was going to be a good decision.  And when she said yes, I knew I was ready to buy the place.

At a certain point, you would want your relationship with your mother to be more than mother-daughter, with the intangible, inexplainable bond that has been nurtured since before you were born and will continue till you're both old and grey .  You would want her to accept you for the individual that you have become and to respect you for the adult that she has helped you to become.  And I'd like to think that my mom and I have that reached that level, where we can interact as adults.

It was those thick James Michener books when I was around 12.  For the most part, I just wanted to prove to myself (and to my dad) that I can finish a thick book.  Then my dad gave me the John Le Carre spy books, which I still like up to now.  In no time, I was choosing my own books - first from my dad's old (and musty) stock and then with my own money.

I was mostly reading fiction and was interested in those that get nominated for awards (because I wanted to check what the all the attention was about).  I steered away from the commercial authors (I read Grisham but I liked the other legal thrillers, for instance).  I shifted from legal to chickreads and to award winners.

And then I found myself liking non-fiction but mostly biographies of historical figures.  That didn't last long.  Then I recently shifted to management books.  In all these years, I steered myself away from self-help books.  I'm not sure why I didn't like self-help or inspirational books but I'm finding myself that I'm liking inspirational books now.

Why this long winded entry on books?  Well, because I'm finding out that after all these years, after all those books, after everything that I've done in my life, I'm still a seeker.  But now, I'm not seeking what I can and can not do, not trying to get ahead in my career.  I'm just trying to find out more about myself, trying to find out what I can do to be a better person.

So I find myself reading about fellow seekers.  I've just finished Eat, Pray, Love.  I'm staring The Power of Now and when I was just starting this book, I found out why I have steered away from books of this kind.  I find that what they say is something that I have heard before or something I've read before but maybe I just didn't pay attention or just didn't notice.

And now, I'm paying attention.  And now, I'm seeking to understand.  Maybe I have moved into another phase in my life.  Maybe I'm maturing.  Maybe I'm on my way to becoming a better person.  Whatever that means.

The Cardigans are one of those bands that once was, but is no more. That happens a lot. "Lovefool" is that pop-rock type of song that keeps in your mind. Driving up to the mall with my parents with this on the radio always made me gaze outside the car window. After finding this song once again, I still appreciate the up-lifting feel of it. The song itself is fun to sing along to and I'll be trying to learn to play a section of it on my bass when I finally get some real free time. I just love it so much.

This song is by Sixpence None the Richer. The grand song here is called "Kiss Me". The reasoning I love these songs are beyond even me. I can't quite explain as to why, but I am just so inticed by everything in this song. The guitar is just so awesome which has so much to offer if given a chance. It's not so much the lyrics, but the general feel of these past two song's that make it so great.

No Doubt is one of my favourite bands ever. So many glorious songs, but this really is their best. "Don't Speak" is one of those songs that I remember listening to when the sun began to set. The casual sunday drive would always have this song playing along with sundown. I just love the song to death because of its beautiful vocals and the sync of the entire band...just to put it out there, Gwen's solo bit hasn't really proved all that successful in my opinion and was better off in No Doubt.

These next two are the only 90's videos I actually remember seeing as I grew up. This is Soundgarden playing "Black Hole Sun". In my opinion, it is one of the BEST rock songs ever to grace the earth. The video is kinda of wierd, with all the strange folk. But once you get past all of that, the video is just so immersive. The whole lighting effects make it one of the best videos out there despite its age. There is nothing you can change about this song to make it better. Just about perfect....almost

People always claim to have a favourite song of all time, but then 3 months down the road it's some other song. "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve is not only the best 90's song, but the best song there has ever been. It is beyond all other songs that I listen to. Above Kanye's, Pearl Jam's, and Boston's songs rolled into one (molded together to something good, not a pile of mush...heh, mush). Not only is it the BEST song ever, but the BEST video ever made. A simple concept of a guy walking down a street, only they made it so compelling, profound, and resilliant that it just sticks in my mind to this date. I love this song to death for everything in it. The drums, the violins, guitar, vocals. The lyrics are some of the best of any song. I can relate to it so much and find myself singing it everytime I hear it. I loved it as a child and I'll still love it 30 yrs. from now.

Surprisingly, or rather incredibly, I did not have to blame myself this morning for wetting my bed - it just happened. Naturally, the consequences were always relevant. However, incoherent ignorance kept itself in-play for long enough to allow my conscious to regain temporary control and, once all of this sustenance shenanigan took flight - into God knows what dimension - I got my slippers and went to the washroom.

On my way to the release, I noticed something uncomfortable about my left arm. It wasn't that I have never seen this appendage before, but just that it stuck out like a monster peeking from under my bed. On purpose, I forgot all about this nonsense and continued my journey. I had to get a smaller apartment, I reminded myself, while shuffling my feet without realizing it. Soon, I got tired and did not feel like visiting that repository of sad memories. I turned around. Was it really already noon? It really is incredible how life ticks and tacks and all I have to show for it is a careless shuffle that, if you were to ask me yesterday, is really nothing but an attempt at recuperating what has already been done. And now, I remembered the soiled sheets and the impossibly far walk back to my room.

Thirty minutes later, I find myself standing in front of my dilapidated single mattress, absorbing the ammonia that had begun to befriend the friendlier of the more contemporary air molecules. It was uncomfortable, a decision to continue felt like a move towards embarking on a belligerent journey without any remorse or mercy. Adding to the list of faux-pas ingredients, the cancerous and blatant reality that stood erect before me, had already acquired a sort of look on its face that only sterile commercialists would have been able to understand. I took the entire transaction as a patronizing exercise in playing dumb... the imminence of a future purchase being, for the most part, a determinist component of my free-agent existence, all bundled up in gift-wrapping and ready for shipment. It is not that I was shy or that I had retraced my steps so as to reconsider. That I certainly did not.

I jumped, eyes closed, straight into the deep end. Warmth was to be expected. The whole experience, from tail to head, was nothing but uncompromising. My tired set of deprived follicles, fortified by the loosely hung smug-like smile on my face, provided the entertainment the entire time - depression was circumvented and the closing ceremony promised salutations of a high enough degree to justify torture. I also have to add that it did, however, feel surreal... like I had just gained forty-three pounds in one sitting and didn't even bother to make a genuine note of what had transpired in my telephone book. Either way, while suspended in mud, crawling uphill, screaming, kicking, discouraging profanity but really failing heroically, it all ended. It all ended. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my suspicious right forearm and made myself proud by piling the remains in the corner for 'another time' - same genome, different species - to concern itself with what would happen next.

And then the phone rang. It did sound like the voice of a man who was liked, but certainly not by many. Maybe. This incredible tempest of pent-up-ness, came through with so much assertion and certainty, that I felt comfortable enough with my own demeanor to continue the conversation. He asked why I was naked. It all felt strange. In anger, I addressed my trespasser with an even more unlikely answer. "My washer is broken and I have nothing to wear." This apparently concerned me more than the man on the other side of the temporary but dyslexic chaos. After silence was interrupted by a slight inconvenienced sigh, I became so disengaged with what this creature of promises had to say that I simply lowered the item into which I was previously speaking onto the table on which it was geographically located and walked out of the room in which my person was previously compelled to enter into.

Clothes. Where was I going to find clothes for today's adventure? The floor provided a wide array of options, choices and half-stale alternatives that really didn't hydrate my palate to such an extent so as to convince me to make exceptions. I was adamant by now that the only possible items of clothing that I felt even slightly ambivalent about wearing today were going to be the ones that I was going to purchase in the immediate future (perhaps a future more immediate than distant), right after I showered and ate a small but no less nutritious breakfast. The thought of where I was keeping the fridge aside, what made this decision even more salient and perhaps solidified my desire to distance myself from this excruciatingly warm establishment I called 'my home,' was the obvious reality that I now had to enrich others for my own mistakes. On the one hand, the necessity for new sheets made sense, they were not going to be reused, especially not while my washer was hopelessly out of order for a time undefined. But the clothes? Why the clothes? They were an unnecessary added extra, an unfortunate and spontaneous irrelevancy that left the conundrum unresolved, for I had yet to shower, breakfast-up, find a solution to my mad intransigency and also take my life off hold. Or, possibly and with little shame, confront the famous philanthropist that just rang, with the sort of unfettered desire that even married nuns have difficulties with.

[TO BE CONTINUED?]

LIVER MUSH

• 1 hog liver, cut up, washed and picked clean of the membranes
• 3/4 cups of coarse ground cornmeal
• Salt & black pepper
• 1 Tbsp thyme
• 1 Tbsp sage
• 1 tsp flake red pepper

Cook liver in salted water until tender. Drain and mash to a paste. Make a sluice of the liver and one cup of the liver juice. Put in a pot and bring up to a boil while adding the cornmeal, till it gits (sic) good and thick. Add seasonings. Scrape into a mold of some kind and let it get cold. Remove and slice. It's a meal in one.

Comments: Sick. When I was a kid, my mom used to boil liver for the cat, and I can personally vouch for the fact that it stinks.

HOG LIGHTS STEW
("lights" are the lungs and the liver of a pig, cooked together)

• 1 set of hog lights
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 2 toes garlic, chopped
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• Flour

Chop your lights up into bite-size pieces. Fry down in a heavy pot with the onion and garlic till it is brown. Add water to cover, salt and pepper, and stew till tender. If it's not thick enough for you, use a little flour to make it thicker. Spoon that over rice and some Scratch Backs* on the side, and you're fixed.

* Scratch backs are pig skin and attached fat, salted, rolled in cornmeal, and fried. They turn out very crunchy, thus the name "Scratch Backs" - they "scratch your back" going down.

Saturday night is when we went shopping.  Sunday afternoon is when the Watermelon disaster occured. 

Since I'm on a healthy kick I decided to purchase a lovely watermelon.  Watermelon is a healthy fruit.  It's full of water and delicious fleshy goodness.  Mmm...sounds yummy.  I didn't really take too much time picking out a watermelon.  I grabbed one that I thought looked good and tossed it in the cart.  It was one of those mini watermelons that look like a bouncy ball. 

Sunday afternoon I was getting ready to clean off the counter.  The watermelon was sitting on the counter and therefore was in my way.  I started to pick it up and watermelon water started gushing out of the bottom of it!  It spewed water everywhere.  I screamed like a girl.  I tried to pick it up again and this time a bunch more water came out.  The water also contained red, mushy, flesh.  What seemed like ten gallons of crap spewed all over the countertop.  And then it hit me.  The smell.  It wreaked!!!  It made our whole apartment smell nasty.  I was seriously gagging from the smell.  I eventually got the rotten melon into a garbage bag and got the mess cleaned up. 

I seriously couldn't believe that this melon was rotten, nevermind the fact that it leaked it's rotten juice all over my kitchen!  It was sick.  I thought that maybe there was a bug or giant worm inside that had created a nest of bugs that were going to infest our apartment.  I had to inspect the remains of the melon. 

I took it outside to the dumpster and dumped it out on the ground.  Check this out:

That is a view of the melon from the top.  I poked the thin skin and ripped it open.  There was still mush flowing out of it.  You can see how thin the skin was.  The entire melon was mush!  Gross. 

Here is a shot of the melon on it's side.  Well-technically perfectly round items such as this don't really have sides, do they?  You get the point.  The melon was pink mush.  No bugs or deadly worms inside though.  Thank god. 

Did I mention it smelled terrible? 

Next time, I plan on buying a watermelon I will fo sho spend a couple minutes picking it out.  I think shaking this melon would tipped me off to it being rotten.  I'm guessing that it would have sounded something like the ocean.  And sounding like the ocean is never a good thing when it comes to fruit.  Only seashells. 

I will be buying a mid-rise condo unit very near the Fort's Global City.  The price is reasonable, the amenities are great, the developer is reliable and my real estate agent is a friend.  I signed off on a unit on the fifth floor (top most) but its not fronting the community's ammenities so I asked my friend, the real estate agent to let me know how much the a 3-bedroom unit fronting amenities will be on the new building that's just going to be open for pre-selling.

I will be gathering all the necessary documents on Monday and then everything will be on its way.  Money will be a bit tight until May 2009 but I think (I hope) I can manage it.  So no more giving in to temptations that shoes and bags and clothes.  No more giving in to temptations on office supplies too.  Yes, I get tempted to stock up on post-its, pens, folders, etc.  Yes, a trip to the office supply store can be tempting to me.  I feel the need to have office supplies in abundance, even if I do get my fill of office supplies (for my use in the office) from the office supply.  Ewan ko ba - addiction na yata 'to.

Speaking of pens, I have this feeling that sometimes when I'm trying to get a grip on the many things going on in the office, I feel the need to get a new pen.  Mostly Parker pens, gel ink.  I dunno if you can call it an addiction already but I think its just a way my mind thinks will help me cope.  I don't give in to it all the time but sometimes... well, the pens do look nice and I'm still looking for my perfect pen (I have a little pen thing going on).  I do think its just a coping mechanism for me... like having a good pen makes me look in control (I don't know if this makes sense, the psych major in me is going into overdrive).

So anyway, I AM GOING TO HAVE MY OWN PLACE! Woohooooooo!!!

I'm not going to think of how I'm going to decorate it yet, not just yet.  I'm going to do the numbers again just to make sure that I don't surprise myself with the bills.   But wooohooooo!!!!

I'm once again contemplating starting a MUSH/MUD and developing something that makes sense...

A spur of the momment led us all to all star wings one late night. We ordered 50 oily-flavoured wings and was too disgusted to finish them that night. We then proceeded to the nearest Tim Hortons, which happened to be about 300 metres away from the wing shop, and loafted there for half an hour before ending the day with a few games of ping pong and billiards at a house in mississauga.

Tape,Sticky Tack + Posters in my possession are cursed. They NEVER stay up and have ruined many of my posters, im gonna start pinning them up from now on if im in an unimportant room.

Remember to read the comments on every post if they exist! Great stuff =D

Ness-Lucas!