The Market Basket

I know, I know. I'm sooo sorry for having a follow-up blog this late. It's just that I seem to have ran out of brain cells to elaborate about ideas I believe in which I can actually summarize in three sentences. Three sentences ain't a blog, and it's too long to be a tweet or a status message. So I've finally given in to my comfort zone and one of my major fields of interest, which is incidentally yours too -- food.

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I've been professionally cooking for only two years now, but I've been an amateur garage-band type of cook since I was a young lad. You see, in the culinary world, there is a term called the market basket. It began somewhere in time when people went to the market every single morning to decide on the menu of the day. What ever is offered in the market today shall be what is on the menu later. It's a pretty challenging task for a chef to come up with different dishes everyday and also takes a set of highly skilled cooks to execute to the chef's standards a different dish each day. Not many restaurants or eateries are blessed with such a crew. The market basket is so challenging that it has evolved and established itself as a format for competitions in the culinary world, even used in reality shows like Top Chef.

The previous paragraph just shows how cluttered my thoughts are as a writer; starting with being a young lad and cutting to the market basket concept. So where does my ladhood go in the picture of this thing called the market basket? Here: I have been doing it since I was 6. As a child, my parents both worked the 8-hour jobs. When I got home from school for lunch, nobody would be there. My sister comes home in the late afternoon, and my mom & dad came home late at night. So for lunch, it was just me, the fridge (my market), the stove, and the TV; and for dinner, it was just me, the fridge, the stove, the TV, and my sister. You can guess what I did with these things. And you obviously know how I was (and still am) when I was a kid -- I was fat. In the Philippines, there is a term people use to joke about fat kids, "napabayaan sa kusina" roughly translated as "left alone in the kitchen". In my case, the joke was not half meant; it was entirely true! Thank God I never burnt our house down. My mom swears by this story (although I think I do remember parts of it), that once she and my dad were away for a seminar out of town for a few days. One morning, she calls home and I answer the phone, "Hello, mama?" Like I knew it was her who was calling. "How are you, my baby?" she says. "I'm awake." "Where's your sister?" "In bed. Asleep." "What about you? What are you doing?" "Cooking breakfast..."

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In the Philippines, traditional folk don't usually have toast nor pancakes nor bacon nor cereals and milk as proper breakfast. We have garlic fried rice, an assortment of scrambled eggs, omelet, and/or perfectly sunny over easy eggs, fried dried fish and/or smoked fish and/or beef/pork/chicken tapa/tocino and/or sweet sausages (called longganisa) that spit and spatter when you fry... plus an assortment of dips (called sawsawan, i.e., ketchup, fish sauce, spicy vinegar, bagoong) and tomato & leafy top salads with salted duck eggs. Sounds like a feast eh. Now, imagine a 6-year-old preparing such a table as this... for two -- me and my sleepy sister.

I don't mean to brag or toot my own horn. All I wanted to do was finally share one of the things I'm most fascinated about. Besides, any 6-year-old kid can do (probably even more than) what I did when I was a kid. Hello? Junior Master Chefs? If there's one thing I'm proud of though, it's that God gave me a set of parents who raised me well into being smart and independent as young as I was, even in the aspect of food preparation.

The Thing I'm Good at Saying Out Loud

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In line with my last post, I had to ponder about this boy-girl relationship thing. I've been often told to seek and contemplate for the right person to spend my life with. I've always been pursued by this word: pursue. But then I ask myself, "why does it have to take such a long process of searching and enduring? Why can't I just be with whom I feel like loving now?" I cannot help but wonder how it was when this boy-girl thing happened in the first place. People, (especially y'all single ones out there) let us take a look at Adam... and Eve... but mostly Adam. Did Adam have it easy?

As far as I remember Adam didn't even ask for it. I was thinking he was slouching bored, sad and lonely on a tree branch, busily pointing at a random creature and naming it which he did not even get to finish (because his descendants are still up to it even today). He was the only creation of his kind. I wasn't sure if he knew that, which was probably a good reason for being sad and lonely, but even if in case he didn't notice, he must have felt it in his heart. And who knew his heart better than his Crafter? So God said, would you like another of your kind? I can just imagine Adam's face lighing up and nodding furiously, which probably made him dizzy, lose his balance, fall off the tree and into a deep sleep (LOL! Kidding). And so, Eve was created. The point is, it seemed like Adam did not have to search... or did he?

Genesis 2:18-20

18 The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” 19 Now the LORD God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. 20 So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals. 

But for Adam no suitable helper was found.

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With that, I think he did search...amongst the livestock. He went "Dog. Cat. Cow. Chicken. Pig. Duck. Duckling. Goat. Aww... sheep. But no. Lizard. Frog..." and so, no suitable helper was found. Hence, Eve.

So young people, the waiting, contemplating, and pursuing has been done since this boy-girl thing was invented. Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, nobody said it was easy. However, everyone else who has been through that waiting and searching phase had said it was worth everything. And if you ever find your self in the midst of a frenzy of hogs, cows, chickens, and other forms of barn yard creatures, no matter how cute they may be, do not settle. Take heart. The Lord knows your needs more than you do. ;)

The Thing I'm Not Good at Saying Out Loud

Thank God it's SEPTEMBER!! 'Tis the season when my favorite Hollywood TV series resume their shows in a brand new season. The excerpt below is from one of the episodes of one of my favorite TV shows, How I Met Your Mother. The show revolves around the lives of five friends, but mainly on how one of them, Ted Mosby, goes about his life with friends (and women) until he meets his wife. On this particular episode, Ted helps one of his ex-girlfriends to actually save her marriage with another man. In the process, he realizes things and just goes on and says it.

Ted: ...I’m gonna say something out loud that I've been doing a pretty good job of not saying out loud lately. What you and Tony have, what I thought for a second you and I had, what I know that Marshall and Lilly have, I want that. I do. I keep waiting for it to happen and... I guess I’m just... I’m tired of waiting. And that is all I’m going to say on that subject.

Stella: ...I know that you’re tired of waiting and you may have to wait a little while more but... she’s on her way, Ted. And she’s getting here as fast as she can.”

Ted and Stella, How I Met Your Mother, Season 4 Episode 23.

The guy pretty much said out loud what a lot of us single men aren't good at saying out loud. I know it's usually the girl who waits and all that, but guys do wait too. While we search and search, we wait for the right time as well. I once heard of the saying "right person, wrong time, still not right" and I agree with that. And sometimes, there just comes a point when a guy feels exactly like Ted did. I did.

Yes, I did. In the past. No longer do. No longer feel tired of waiting, and now willing to wait... again. Still, in the words of Ted Mosby, "And that is all I’m going to say on that subject." Thank God it's September.

The Three-day Hump

Has anyone heard of it? The three day hump? I first heard about it back in college. I had to fast for seven days and to not eat for just a day was torture. Someone then told me that I just had to get over the first three days without giving in and I'd make it through the rest of it. I don't actually remember if it worked as that person said, but I sure hope it works this time.

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No, I'm not on a fast nor on a diet (I think I have to do one ASAP though). I need to get over the three-post hump. That is, keep up with blogging. As I've previously said, it even took me some time to begin a blog. I just realized, it would take much more to maintain one. Don't get me wrong. I'm not forcing my self to do this. I do want to do this. It's just that I seem to find excuses to postpone. There I go again, making an excuse by starting a sentence with "It's just that..." :p Maybe that's exactly the hump which I need to get over: the excuses hump. No more excuses for three succeeding posts (and beyond), although I really don't have exact days of when I will post a blog... How about I make sure to post at least three a week? I think that sounds like a plan. This being my second post for the week, I just have to post another to meet my quota... or maybe another after the next. We shall see. How about number of words? Do word counts... well... count? Such a newbie.

The Beginning

I live in a world of epic proportions of dynamism. I wake up to the sound of a city -- a tune, rain, wind, machine, voices, a song. I open my eyes to the past's vision, now in the flesh -- color, light, form, movement, technology, life. I get up to a life and decide to live for whom I owe it to -- the God, family, friends, acquaintances, and the rest who have life. It is a sin not to write about this.

How did I do? That first paragraph might have taken longer to think about and write than the rest of this entry. As this blog's subtitle says, this is an attempt to get into the blogging sphere as a newbie and a late bloomer.

I am Conan. I'm a 25-year-old communication graduate from the University of the Philippines. For someone who's been pretty much around people who read and write a lot (and again with a communication degree), I would think of myself as one who has more likely kept a blog or done something to keep the writing skill sharp and cutting through words and ideas. Unfortunately, after that very long sentence of cluttered ideas, it shows how rusty I am... and at this age. Ugh.

On this (really really late) night, the 11th of September 2011, let this be a manifesto for me to start a blog as a creative outlet of thoughts that hopefully make sense and do not offend; thoughts that do not corrupt; thoughts that uplift and do not destroy; thoughts that may rant at times but rant for betterment's sake; thoughts that hopefully go beyond my lifetime and probably even this world's. These thoughts, I put into words in the name of writing, so help me, God.

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