I've been playing the Sims 3 lately because my cousin got the expansion pack for me this Christmas, and I tried to portray my life in the most realistic manner possible, and so far this is what I have.

* My wife is a frugal vegetarian who wants to have a career in business. Though frugal, she wants to donate to charity and likes Art Museums.
* I'm a five-star chef whose boss is a pastry chef.
* Speaking of which, I've developed a so called "romantic interest" with my boss, only to marry someone else later. Yes, I did have the balls to invite her to the wedding, thus making her pissed (as later shown in the boss mood being red under the career section)
* I'm part chef, part relic hunter (it's the adventures expansion pack, and it's the only one they have!). It's fun and thrilling (I still don't want to try Egypt yet. I heard it's got mummies. :P)
* I live in a house called "The Monotone". -> Story of my life.
* I could get so much more done with six hours of sleep.
* I'm proficient at Martial Arts and Photography.

As much as I'm living a good videogame life, it's very monotone unless I spend all my money and just travel around the world frequently being single, living a life similar to Indiana Jones (a less extreme version, of course). I really do want that kind of life though at times since I get promoted in less than five days (but they're Sim days, every minute is like a second in real time), but it's just lacking too much to be actually compared to the real thing.

In the end, even if we take the parts of our lives that we consider lackluster, life would still be the same: We control a lot of it, but we're just restrained.

Culinary Setbacks.

Tonight, I went to Truxton's with my cousin because he wanted French Onion Soup. I of course obliged because, well, why would you turn down free food?

Waiter comes and asks us for our order. He knows what he wants, and I'm flipping through the menu two or three times trying to be adventurous in discovering new flavors and whatnot.

I settled for the Mac and Cheese.

It was good.

I wouldn't necessarily say that this is a setback, rather a red light. I haven't even stepped foot in CIA yet, and here I am trying to plan my future like no one's business and no tomorrow.

It's true that I have my three restaurants in mind. I won't put it here because people might steal my ideas, and stealing is not cool in my book. But the concepts of these restaurants are so unlimited to me because I have a vast imagination (despite popular belief), and what I have currently put down would be considered on what I solely know, thus my imagination being limited which results in instant failure for lacking versatility.

What also frustrates me is that I can't sharpen a knife on that damned automatic sharpeners. It claims that it can make the sharpest edge ever, but when I tried to make onion rings today, it didn't even fly. This is probably why I should read manuals or else I'd ruin my knife.

This just goes to show that simplicity is the key to life. So is reading manuals.

As much as I'm sick of running a simple and honest life, I'm not going to stray away from it. It has too many schematics and gimmicks lurking around it, and I'm not a guy who wants to put up with one or the other or even both.

On Christmas Day, no less, I'm proud to say that I have no respect left for my family, and I'll be damned if those words were empty.

I'm really sick and tired of people not seeing me eye to eye because they've had more years under their belt. I really hate those kinds of people who thinks they know everything, and does not care to listen. Even if they do, their opinion goes, which makes it pointless to even talk, or respect to them. I really could not care if they commanded a million angels in their dreams or God found them at their certain point at their life, but if people can't see me eye to eye, well, fuck them. I'll easily cut them off my life in a snap.

I also don't care for liars. As I've said before, I'm a bad liar and I hate schematics and gimmicks outside of sports and cooking. Lie to me once, shame on me. Lie to me twice, and I'll cut you out of my life like my boss did to our former dishwasher who dropped the duxelle on the floor and picked it back up like nothing happened.

I'm a very forgiving person, but don't ever try my limitations as a person. Every single person on earth has a limitation, and going outside simplicity and honesty is mine.

If you don't like it, then fuck you.

Worst holidays ever.

Fuck holidays.

I can't wait to go to the East Coast and start all over again.

I'm over it.

A couple days back, I discovered why Nick Twisp likes Frank Sinatra so much. It's catchy, in an oldie kind of way and I guess I'm finally starting to find my taste in music... kind of.

One of the songs that I've been listening from Sinatra is "New York, New York", and I can't help but want to be there faster...

In other departments, I don't know why I'm pissed at this holiday season. My work hours are longer, my paycheck is less than what it seems, red lights every stop light, the person who's in front of me is slower, I don't have a social life. It's like problems are handed to me one by one, as if the test of time and trial is trying to score one on me, but I'm just persistent and won't let it.

I really do think that the East Coast is the solution to all my problems. Not really the East Coast, rather than a huge distance away from my family and old friends. It feels like I've done everything that I wanted to do at that stage, and I have nothing else left to do, which in turn makes my life boring and impossible to liven up...

In all seriousness, I'm tired of waiting. It's not that I want instant gratification, but I just want my results to be commensurate with my good effort for withstanding patience, crap and the other whatnots that are factoring in my currently boring life now. Bah.

I feel like Scrooge. I thought Rice-A-Roni and a movie would help me overcome this problem of grumpiness, but apparently it has done the opposite. I really, really, really, don't know why.

I feel like I'm not doing anything right.

I'm talking to a fellow Intern (Youth and Government), and I think it's the first time I've verbally put out there that I'm tired from working a week straight with no breaks.

(Writer's note: Actually not the first time, I made it my facebook status, but I have not had any further discussion of it at the time)

Not to disrespect where I currently work today, but if I'm only on my trial period now, how would I even have a chance at the real world?

Something has to change, and I don't even know where to start.

There are so many flaws in me, it's ridiculous. It's like remodeling the worst football team on the planet, and there's a lot of good players in free agency that could fix your flaws, but a salary cap is there to obviously cap what you can only get.

It's true that I'm creating excuses for myself, but I also do know the fact that I can only take one or two changes at a time (three, if I do it gradually). If I start taking them all in, my focus goes somewhere else, dwindles, and I'm starting from square one.

It sucks.

If there's anything else I need to learn, it's how to put a conclusion in these blogs. I suck at coming up with them. Maybe that's why I failed most of my AP exams.

I have to start sleeping earlier.

This holiday season, I've been given a sporadic working schedule. It's sporadic enough to say that I was laughing at ESPN for showing Monday Night Football because I thought it was Tuesday (my work day usually starts on a Tuesday).

After that though, I get a four day weekend, a three day week, and then another four day weekend.

Holy crap.

But to say the least, this day has been draining both physically and mentally. Two dogs are crying, one puked on my bed (It's on the corner, and I don't have enough energy mustered up to even clean it up. However, I did just tuck in the puked corner hoping that I don't roll on it and have a whole chain reaction of pissed off after doing so.

About that sleep thing. Yeah. I might just do that now.

When cooks say that eggs were used as a binder, they weren't kidding.

Today, I worked on the omelet station for a brunch.

There's two things you need to know before I go on with this story:

1. When I did C-CAP, I had to deal with omelets. After the competition and getting my scholarship, I swore to myself that I would not wear a toque, nor make another omelet again. But this plays on later.

2. I've never worked a brunch before, and as a Garde Manger (salad station), I've NEVER worked professionally near a stove in a kitchen shift. Major disadvantage.

Day starts off with me coming, and doing my normal Garde Manger stuff: Cutting romaine, putting them in containers and stuff. After that, my boss tells me that he promotes me to the omelet station, and pun unintended, I said to him that "I don't want to count my eggs, but I did omelets when I competed."

Oh lord.

This is when the second part of the facts come in. I have not made an omelet in a long time, nor I haven't worked on a stove at work. But I figured that it would be the same.

It wasn't.

To be honest with you, I had my coworker flip my omelets for me, and I did the charming. I think it's good compensation for a temporary lack of talent.

Then, my boss kept egging (I probably won't stop with wordplay, just a warning) me to flip the omelets, but I refused, stating that I wouldn't want to screw with discovery, especially in front of customers. D'oh.

At the end of the day, I got to flipping omelets, because they were employee meals. I stopped caring, since they're employees. We could eat deep fried, chocolate covered bugs and not give a shit about it. I care about employees enough though to cook my stuff right, so I don't want any negativity forthcoming for my previous I-don't-give-a-shit comment.

Back to the very sentence that I begun with.

Eggs, or food in general is a common necessity for everyone. It creates a certain chemistry, whether it is salt melting in your food giving it a salty taste, or a minute or two conversation while waiting for their eggs to cook. Ironically, this concept of need brings us together and produces joy.

To sum it up, it's basically one of the million reasons why I really want to do this.

I went to war without proper ammunition.

It's traumatizing.

Before going on, however, I would like to put out the fact that no real weapons were used today. Except for knives.

Basically, I experienced a real kitchen rush, as in I was busy for a good hour and a half running back and forth, not having time to recover because tickets kept coming in, coming in, and coming in. Seriously uncanny.

I really do like that feeling of busy-ness, except when I run out of supplies.

This is where the metaphor comes in.

Running out of ammunition sucks, especially when ticket after ticket comes. You basically stop dead on your tracks, get more stuff, prep them then keep going. It holds up tickets, and soon enough people are yelling at my name because I'm either incompetent with speed, or I'm not paying attention at all.

Hm, weird. I just ran out of words.

99th Percentile

It's good to feel fatigue, as it has an ironic placebo effect that puts me into mental stability. It practically makes me feel heartless, as I feel no emotion whatsoever, but I can keep up with a decent and civil conversation.

If I'm keeping track (which I am), I've only told two girls that I like then way past a platonic relationship. One four years ago, and one today.

The difference between the two besides the obvious matter of time is the manner of how I did it. And I'm telling this in a long-story-short manner.

Freshman year in High School, I was too straightforward spending my five bucks on heart box shaped chocolates and a card, only to be told "Uh, no", to be followed with an "I only like you as a friend". As for the aftermath of this fiasco, I didn't talk to this person after two years, but we're friends now. Or so, I would like to think.

Compared to today, I told this person that I liked them through facebook chat.

Yes, I know a lot of people would be major raging right now, and might have these thoughts:

1. DOOD!
2. WHAT THE FUCK!
3. Pussy.
4. Insert your own thought here.

Thus, the fatigue-iron-man-causing effect.

While the conversation itself had the same ending of "I only like you as a friend", it went more casually, I handled it more maturely stating that this can't fly, nor this can happen, and all the blah blah that follows it. (Yes, I said blah blah)

After that conversation, I feel like I can sleep better and maybe work more efficiently tomorrow (I seriously hope I don't wake up all alert, then the thought reappears in my head and starts bugging me).

While I would like to analyze all my flaws, I really don't want to do it, but I would like to point out a couple of things.

1. A friend told me that some people don't mind being told that they are liked beyond a friendship online. I told her that the percentage of said "some" people are the 99th percentile of the women in this world, if not this country. Let me just say that this was flaw number one, and I really don't think that the result would be any different if I did it another way around.

2. It feels freakin' good to be rejected while being tired. Not saying I'm going to it often in the same manner, but it kind of gives me something to laugh about. I know, classic ass move, but life's not really fair. So, if life doesn't want to be fair and wants to laugh at me, I kind of have a right to make an ass out of it too, in some way.

3. This reminds me to read Tucker Max and buy his book, but there are only three players to hit the 700 homerun mark in all of baseball, and they did so because they took their chances and never held back. One might have an asterisk, but seriously. I don't think you could do the same thing to another person and have them hit the same number. But that's a whole different discussion.

Anyways, off to sleep and I don't know how to celebrate my freedom. Probably more tasks, because I'm meant to be kept busy anyway.

Funny how I complain on how I lack sleep, and every minute is an opportunity passing by, but I'm just wasting it.

Nonetheless, I am officially done with El Camino, and if I did my calculations right, I should be getting a 93. Maybe. It's not a real calculation, but it's one of those where I assume that my grade is crap (which it is, I didn't even know half the material - yikes), but I'm pretty sure that I put myself in a position where I could still get the grade that I want, despite the circumstances.

As for my major thought today, My boss told me to work this Sunday, but I wasn't put on the schedule for that day, and it definitely puts a thought in my head.

Something tells me to go with the flow and not even ask my boss about it, but on the other hand, he asked me up front if I could work on Sunday. It's like, what?

I'm a nonconfrontational person. I like to do business when I'm the person who's above them, and not the other way around. I'd rather be feared than fear. Blah. It feels awkward to ask for things, since well... it's not my parents and I won't really get fired from my family if I asked for a day off or two...

But yes, I'm pretty stoked about the weeks that are coming up, and I think it's time to actually put some thoughts in action. Shit, I need to make a prep list again.

I am typing this with my eyes sinking faster than the Titanic, and my fingers faster than the fast one in The Incredibles. Gotta love hyperbole.

A good chunk of my thoughts came from working today, and probably a few, however just as equivalent as those of earlier came from tonight while finishing problem sets for math.

1. It's always hard to forget that people have given us chances at life. An admission is a chance. We get chances to these institutions of education because people have faith in our abilities. Sure, while we claim to be very experienced with however many years (knowing most of the people I know, I'll give it a window of 16-20 years) of experience under our belts, We're basically guinea pigs of society where our beliefs and reactions to certain situations are tested. It is there that the "men are separated from the boys", and such.

I came up with this thought because I, for some reason am having some weird ego trip in the kitchen. People try and kind of humble me, and I just want certain things to happen right. I really don't want to screw up, because this is probably the best opportunity that I have in my first twenty years of living. Sometimes, just really, sometimes, I want to tell the food runner to not be an ass about everything because of a flawed system, and I don't want to imply that my coworker that works the grill station to hurry up with the swordfish since the food runner's being an ass.

I personally believe, and I don't care how much people want to contradict it, is that sometimes people have to be an ass to make a point. It really shouldn't piss me off if there's a technical error in my salad (I.E Spinach way out of proportion with other pieces in size), but for some reason it just does and it kind of makes me feel awkward with my boss who's at this point has had it at probably my height in terms of patience, if not two inches away from blowing up and firing me.

Back to what I'm trying to say in the beginning though. The positive way of seeing this is that there are always second or third chances in life. I hate to admit it, but none of us are perfect. Not even the rich, nor the powerful are perfect. These chances are given to us because again, they believe in our ability to not make the same mistake repeatedly (and if not, for a long time).


2. I think I'm devoid of the emotion of love.

I don't know whether it's a short fuse, or whatever happened in my life, but for some reason, I really don't appreciate my family. I'm simply saying that I'm a selfish ingrate.

Maybe it's because I'm so materialistic, and I've felt like all those years, they've shortchanged me in some way or the other (my argument here is very specious) that now I'm getting opportunities left and right and carrying my own weight, I feel kind of invincible and impeccable where dependency on a family unit is no longer necessary.

Maybe it's because I've been pushed to stuff that they force me to do that doesn't relate me. My mom keeps forcing me to go to church when I don't want to. It's a waste of my time, and I could waste it by doing something that I actually like doing.

I don't know, I really haven't come around on the appreciating them stage part because they have either done little or no effect on my life at all. It's as if asking the question "What have you done for me, and what's the reason why I should even give you the time of day?"

Even if they have done something for my life, I, in the words of Russell Peters, "Take it, and go". And come back for more if I ever ran out of blessings (for the lack of a better word). Yet, they have the capacity to forgive even though I did these kind of things.

As for serious consideration, I'm seriously admitting that I'm lacking, if not entirely missing the capacity to love. I admit that it was hard typing the word itself (see, capacity to forgive), and I can't even say the word seriously because it's basically an empty bottle that comes out of my chute of a crappy to decent vocabulary.

It's as if this country changed me as a whole. I've cried at least a total of less than my toes and fingers combined in eight years that I've been here, for the same reasons that I'm doing now: Trying to make sense out of my thoughts and releasing them to the people around me.

If the first step is admitting it, then I have to find out what the other six is.

But I'm too tired, too lazy. I have crappy knees, bad health and a shitty demeanor.

Maybe sleep can change all that.

It feels so weird that this phase is about to end.

I just got my grade for a pass/fail class, and I passed with an A.

Yay.

As for my math class, my professor decided to make our test an open book test along with a notecard for formulas, which I still need to do (and yes, if you read my first blog, that now makes me a hypocrite, and if you read my third it just confirms my commitment problem).

I also need to download Brown Eyed Girl, just because it was so catchy, and I don't think I've ever had an educator sing before. For people who went to Westchester, Mernin partially counts, but my professor can actually sing.

Win.

With all of this, it makes me ecstatic to go to work tomorrow. It's at least 12 days before christmas... and I think that's song's gonna be in my head too. Crud.

Commitment Problems

While I have it in me...

I just posted that some blogs put me to shame because of their longtime commitment to it. I've been blogging for a long time myself, but my commitment is separated into three (or eight, but five have been totally abandoned and totally blank) blogs, with maybe just as much content without the quality of the one blog that I'm talking about.

It takes some serious commitment for monogamy. A lot of us are guilty for lacking that quality, and Tiger Woods is the recent victim to join the club.

Rimshot. Okay, I'm done with the whole Tiger Woods ordeal.

But seriously, separating my commitment to three blogs is whack.

To tell you the truth, dear reader, I've already have visions for three restaurants: One being fine dining, one for a Tapas Bar, and one for a more casual flair of dining.

But I'm not going to share that, because like an unfunded scientist, I only have my thesis but not the experiment itself.

Seriously though, if I'm having a commitment problem with my blogs and restaurant planning or decision making in general, how am I going to fare with a girlfriend?

Oh well, there's always the old mantra to take it "one step at a time"

Speaking of new reading material...

I love it when I get it. As of now, I'm stacking it up before my cookbooks arrive from overstock (like dear God, it feels so good to be paid. All these cookbooks, and dough to do all my experimenting and gaining experience. I think I just witnessed a culinary boner. Dude!)

So far, I'm re-reading Youth and Revolt. I read it my sophomore year, and all I knew before are is the main character who possesses a penis that has a mind of it's own. Either that, or his penis is actually his brain.

I'm also interested in reading the Olympians series. My brother has them on disc sets. He's done with all three. With Top Chef and Glee gone temporarily, and with Greek coming in January, I really have nothing to do, except my routine stuff.

But yay for new reading material. And I'm glad Google Chrome can undo my flakiness.

My friend Patrick would be proud, as for some odd reason he likes the word "balls".

And yes, I'm back to square one. I'm starting an all new blog because I'm very lazy at trying to switch out between ten accounts for blogs, and seeing three ideas for blogs trashed and not yet deleted by the Google people after several days (they said ninety, but I'm not really keeping track.)

There is a saying that goes around that "Great novels are written by those who aren't afraid".

True, but there's a lot of theories that can go against that, but it's what a natural pessimist would do.

Enter, myself. (I'm partially a pessimist. Only if I could get rid of it.)

It sucks writing the same material over and over again, from notes to self or using a blog as an outlet for me because I'm pissed.

I really don't know. I only go to five sites in the internet, seven if you count porn, ten if I'm bored and the number will probably remain stagnant unless I go to twitter and find a link about failblog or something, who knows.

I really have no specific goals or gimmicks for this blog. It's straight up "balls" in every sense of the word itself. If a ball is tossed at you, you either you get it or you don't. If it hits you, it either hurts you or it doesn't. Some people are really interested in balls whether you're straight as a sports fanatic who happens to like a plethora of balls or you're gay for liking what's below a guy.

The truth is that life is a "ball" game, and while you have your own metaphor for it, this one's mine.

I'm actually done with my cold, and I'm digging the new services from google: Chrome, and Wave.

Google Chrome, for a lack of a better comparison, gives it a shaved feeling down there.  My internet browser is so much bigger without any of the extra stuff (the taskbar) impeding my view.

As for wave, I finally got to know what it is because I was invited.  Yay interns.

Speaking of which, I often give myself reminders to not visit the CIA page on facebook until I got my legit start date.  It's because I don't want to jinx myself or anything.  (I'm superstitious - Stevie Wonder, anyone?)

I am not Michael Jordan.

I've been under the impression that I'm living the day Michael Jordan scored sixty on the Utah Jazz to claim one of his many titles as a Chicago Bull.

I would proudly like to say that I am, considering that my week has been MJ-like prior to being sick.

Well, kind of.

For those who don't know, I'm a Garde-Manger at Manhattan Country Club.  Away from the kitchen, the heat.  I'm not dissing it, it's just reality.  But I'm telling you that fact to tell you this next one.

Being away from heat, I open packages near my prep area, or inside the fridge: particularly bread with those zip-top twisty things and whatnot.  Also, I get to serve club sandwiches with toothpicks attached to them, and the ingredients that I use are straight out of cans, etc.

I am going to admit right now that I have served salads with foreign objects on it.  Ziptops and olive pits, and toothpicks.  I'm very fortunate that the runner has got them off before serving them, and I'm very fortunate that my boss has a huge patience for my seemingly dumb ass.

Again, I'm putting my mise-en-place of facts as everything adds up later....

Today, I came in to work, fresh out of the misery that is sickness.

Everything was going well, I made sure everything was in check, everything in my station labeled, extras prepared just in case I run out of stuff.

Life goes on until a rubber band is found on a salad.

I take responsibility for it, since it's my station, and I really am not the type of person or asshole that throws people under the bus.  Know that fact, and you can use it to your advantage one of these days.

To be very honest, I was pissed for a good half hour because I knew that if I prep my stuff these days, nothing would be in it.  I'm not saying I never made mistakes before, because as mentioned above (and yes, I'll probably get canned for it - crossing my fingers) I've made these mistakes in the kitchen, and I've never made the same mistake twice (definitely a lie for most situations). 

Like Kevin, I'm just upset for being upset because this is just a lapse (another partial lie - club might get sued because of this), but it drives me nuts to be skeptical of my own ability.  I hate that.

Again, I'll just let this go and learn from it.  It's the only sensible thing to do.

Love like... Toothpaste?

I remember watching Bruce Almighty and seeing the scene where Jim Carrey's character said to Jennifer Aniston's character:

Love me, love me.

She didn't.

If anyone has actually seen this movie, you get it.  If you don't let me toss you a spoiler:  Carrey's character is given all the power in the world, except the power to make someone love you.  After all, there are some skeptics of religion out there.

Love is like a toothpaste tube:  even though you squeeze everything out of it, there's always that ounce that's stuck around the corner that you can't get to.  And even if you did, what kind of drastic measure would you do to get it?

Analogy aside, I can't get all the toothpaste in the damn tube.  Even if I did cut the tube in half to scrape the rest off, there would still be toothpaste stuck on that tube.  You can't get all of it, even if you want to.

Point is that, there's a lot of toothpaste out there, and if you're only focusing on that one ounce of toothpaste that you're trying to get, then you're missing out.

Limit Break

There is an expression called "Running out of luck".

I feel like I've been having too much luck lately, and mine's about to run out.  Again, who knows?

It seems like that everytime something good happens to me, I have to think about what's next.  It's as if a road ended and I have to start another one.  But I really don't want to put it that way.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

If anything, I'll just remember the advice that I gave to Aubrey earlier:  Do everything I'm supposed to do and everything would fall perfectly.

Placebo Effect

I could not be happier for myself this thanksgiving weekend as I actually had three parties that I planned on going to.

Now, that's college life.  Partially kidding.

While it's very superficial to say that college life is all about parties, and not academics (see, Van Wilder), It's very false.  If you don't go to school, you fail, and if you fail, then you are expelled or out from the campus.  So basically, I'd give it a 60:40 ratio, Academics-Party.  That's if you do care.  And if you have a greater Academics-Party Ratio, then more power to you.

While the common theme in parties is fun, there is another common theme that exists in these places that could either be very lucid to the naked eye, or the opposite if you're too oblivious to see if you're having too much fun:

Shyness.

Yup.  Shyness is a detriment to any social event, especially if you don't know the people there, or only know one or two of them.  I would be lying, and not headed for life success if I didn't say that I was a shy person, because I am.  Again, why do you think I've never been in a relationship in my life after 19 years of living?

But this one's different.  It's so different that you could actually differentiate it when you're given two samples of it, kind of like blue.  There's navy blue, there's baby blue.  It's easy to spot.

The navy blue kind of shyness is social, as in you're shy in meeting new people because you don't share the same interests as them.  People should have different personalities, because as much as I love myself, I wouldn't want a billion of myself around.  One, it's too boring, two, the world would be grumpy, and three it's definitely a gay population (because it's all males).

The baby blue kind of shyness is more of a puppy love one.  For instance, you're crushing on someone, you want to tell them, sing them the corniest song that comes first to your mind, but you can't because...

1. No balls to do it
2. A ton of excuses to provide
(Thanks to Hassan Abdulla for this list)

The solution to this is basically the term "taking the plunge" - As in, just doing it without having a care in the world and having fun.  I don't know, be like a drunk Tucker Max - all happy and stuff, just don't drink off his CamelBak, or else.

I personally believe that this concept of the plunge is much easier to take in a friend-making scenario, because you really have nothing to lose except another person to talk to.  On the other hand, if you do, do (yes doo-doo, name your joke) take the plunge romantically, the possibility of losing a friendship is there,or actually strengthening it, because you actually had the balls to say it -> Eminem rhyme.  (Sue me.) 

A placebo is described as a fake medication.  Researchers use it to see how people react to the medicine.  Sometimes, people get better because they think the medicine did it. 

Shyness is just like a placebo effect, except the opposite.  It is the power of the mind that drives us this way, and sometimes it's the possible negative thoughts of people that drive us this way. 

Basically, let me sum it up with my own version of a Tucker Max quote:

If you don't like me, then... you know the rest.

Decisions, squared.

Before I start, today's math class was ridiculous.  In my Intermediate Algebra class, my professor taught about the 30-60-90 and the 45-45-90 triangles and what radicals belong to them.  He just made it more complicated, and thank God I have my trig notebook lying around somewhere for those pieces of information.

But during that time, I was asking myself as to whether or not I should go to Westchester's Academic Night.  One of my solutions into making this decision was to flip a coin.  Heads, I go and vice versa.  The other one was more of a self reassuring quote, but failed to no avail.  And the third idea, was to get a facebook poll, and by popular vote, I went, and needless to say it was worth my time catching up with my people even though it was only for a couple of minutes.

I decided to do these ridiculous methods of decision making, because I'm really bad at it. Flipping a coin is a fair method of doing it, despite facts learned from statistics class that it isn't really a fifty fifty chance.  There's no bias involved in a coin flip, and I was willing to do what the coin told me to. 

On the other hand, the quote that I wrote in my notebook was "Don't let anyone become a priority if they saw you as an option".  While I believe that I will rarely, if never be a priority to my friends, I'm pretty sure that those words will hurt them because while without sounding narcissistic or egotistical, there's a speck within them that cares about me, and others as well (but they have their own specks.)

In the end, I decided to go and watch, since I went through all the trouble of getting the car for the night, and it would totally be worthless if my efforts went to waste.  I gave everyone my congratulations and a hug, and caught up with my friends, and a couple of my friends' parents and a teacher. 

It was time well spent, and as always, a lesson learned.

Always trust your instincts.

There was once upon a time where I liked playing chess, and I didn't care if I sucked at it.  Not that I did, but I felt like I was adequate at it.

The concept of Chess is to get the king into a checkmate.  To do so, one has to scheme and plan each piece (pieces have a different purpose and move in various ways) so that it can do so.

Irony is, I love predicting the future, but there are so many things that could possibly happen, and while it is true that some of my hunches might be right, the chances of them happening are slim to none, since there might be that other scenario that I just never thought about, which totally changes the game.

For some reason unknown, I always think about the future or the past rather than the present.

A good example for this is that when I talk to most of my friends, I could not help but rehash old memories, because I have nothing else to think or talk about.  It makes me feel like I'm a bad friend because I'm only sticking to the past, and not looking to build up something new.  My basic thought on this is that I hope it doesn't take a jigsaw (referring to Saw, the fourth one?) game where my past has to be burnt, or something.

As for the future, I'm always concerned on the "what would", how could, and anything else that can fall between those lines.  For example, I'm thinking about the possibility of me getting behind at Camp Roberts because Mario forgot about me, or something else in general.

I think that if I had a chance for three wishes, one of them would be removing my habit of thinking too much.

Mash-up

Why is it that people believe in prayer if nothing ever goes right for them? Do people believe that it's their saving grace? I mean, even atheists or other religions do it (and sometimes to the wrong god.)

I always had this faith that everything would fall in place if I did everying right, especially when it counted. As of now, I'm very concerned about my ride to camp roberts for this friday. It seems like a long time coming, but for me it isn't, as time is ticking down and I can only wait until a certain time to wait for my next move.

It's wack.

Speaking of wack, a friend has jokingly (so I hope) speculating on my sexuality, thinking that I'm gay.

What.

I have nothing against gays. In fact, I support the fact that they are just as free as straights. But that's another issue.

While I'm a guy that has a tv schedule half suited for chicks (top model, greek, glee), I'm just the unfortunate victim of social awkwardness and low self esteem, and perhaps trauma. (Ask me about the last part, if you wish)

So really, In quoting young mc, I'm a straight man who doesn't want to hang myself on a celibate rope, nor do I want to become a monk abd leave the situation.

Tuesday tomorrow, and that could only mean a massive prep day for me tomorrow.

Gotta love tuesdays.

Regret and Rebirth

BOB I is coming up, and I just can't help but have this thought of me taking things for granted.

I knew last year was my last with my delegation.  I knew that was it, and after that there was no turning back.  BOB I went by, BOB 2 went by, Sacramento came by, and when it came to the friendship service, I gave two speeches - one I partially rehearsed and wrote so many versions of while chairing sessions, and a second one that came from the heart.

The bad thing is that though it had genuine intentions, none of them felt that way. 

I left the room with no tears in my eyes.  I wasn't crying.  In fact, I was smiling and saying "I'll see you later", "I'll miss you", and all these other things, and I knew it was genuine then, but looking back now, it seems that it wasn't.

I don't know, maybe it's a trail of tears, whether it be from joy or sadness that binds people together, some bind of emotion that links between them... some chain of genuine emotion and passion that I never got to experience because I was too macho to let it out, and a possible belief that I look ugly when I cry.

When I look at Scott's photos now for the lack of a better metaphor, it's like watching porn and I'm trying to hide it from people, and I don't ever want them to find out that I miss the experience, the people, because I was once there, and I'm just simply wondering if they're having the time of their lives their as they should, considering that they're paying a thousand plus dollars for it.

Then, I did the Intern Program on a whim, as it miraculously fit my schedule, and kept me busy.  Selfish as I may sound, I genuinely wanted to do this from the beginning because I knew what was expected, and what was going to happen (very partially.)

If this really is my second family, then I see this as my second chance.  No what-ifs, no regrets. 

It's like senior year all over again.

A commercial hit me square in my thoughts, as it said:

"If you have the passion, why not dream?"

Good things happen when my facebook page is unavailable:  I sleep earlier, I do my homework, and I google search too many things.

One of my google searches today was the Culinary Institute of America.  Yup, it's the most wonderful time of the year.  I sent in my application on Friday and it's about to be processed and I'm pretty stoked.  Because of that, I decided to go to the site and just read up.

Bad Idea.

Reading up on these articles or visiting the site itself drives me nuts.  I know that I earned my keep, I know that I'll get it, but it drives me crazy how far it is before I get there: I start to think about how many more quizzes, days in El Camino I have left, and I'm starting to visualize how I'm going to leave.

I really don't want to look too far ahead, but it excites me.  And because of any excitement or anxiety of sort, I have the propensity to run a controlled chaos in my station:  I get the order, I get some right, and some I purely screw up and throw in the trash.  Totally against my morals, but I have to do what I need to do...

For now, I'll follow Pratt's advice and smell the coffee, take my time and enjoy life as it goes.

I will always remember that day when Mario told me in his own way to "get a life".  Slowly but surely, I'm integrating myself into this new one while keeping some old friendships intact.

I feel like these days, my life has been so routine that it's like my mise-en-place, that I know where I put everything, what to do in case I "get in the weeds".

I don't even know how to describe this feeling.  Maybe, if I had to put it into words or comparison, that I would say that I would be a tennis player who's making a Federer-esque comeback to beat Roddick after five sets (yes, it still drives me crazy and bitter to say that).  I'm hitting my stride to the point that rarely some things frazzle me despite a lack of sleep, I know what I'm doing and I'm confident that I'm doing all the right things.

Funny how I'm writing this blog near midnight with work tomorrow on an early shift after taking my mom to the airport for her mission trip that will last for a week.  Should be interesting tomorrow considering the fact that I've been lacking in sleep, or sleeping late these days that I should sleep super early tomorrow as well on Thursday to compensate for it.

That's what the gym's for.  I'm starting to feel fat, and it's not a good feeling at all.

One of the nicknames that Hassan gave me in high school was starting to finally make sense.

I remember being called "Toast" in high school because I was often wrong when I had a point to say, and apparently my peers are better than me in certain things.

But the context of "toast" with my current state of condition is that I'm tired, I'm burnt, and possibly stale.

I started work at seven thirty and besides a breakfast of a chocolate chip cookie, cheese bread and water, I literally moved from point to point non-stop for four hours (partially lying here, but I was in motion all day long). 

I was so tired at that point that I was still behind on my prep - two or three tasks behind, and I was resorted to eating in a very rapid pace where I prep where I was told to eat at the dining room, and enjoy myself, or so said my boss.

I really couldn't enjoy the meal despite its' appeal to my rumbling stomach.  But really, I just had to rock it out, I suppose.

My continuous movement continued as there were tickets all day long, at least for a good hour and a half.  I'm loving it really, but I hate it when I get tickets wrong especially if I have five more to make after that, and then the ticket machine just keeps cranking out more.  Not my routine, but I ironically like it for some wack reason...

My whole point is ever since I started "applying" to the CIA, I've been reduced to the equivalent of my twitching friend who has over loaded on caffiene where  my hands haven't stopped moving from chopping, slicing and consistently losing on Madden (I swear, the Chiefs have a bad offensive line and quarterback, and I'll figure out their offense one way or the other) along my eyes are twitching back and forth to check my account whether or not El Camino took my money yet or when my mom's three hundred dollars would come through so I could see how fiscally crippled I am at this hopefully temporary moment of time.

If chefs aren't allowed to have a bad day in the kitchen, then why are they allowed to have a bad day in their lives? 

I'm just asking.

Wednesday is officially my favorite day... that's tentative of course.

The feeling of this specific Wednesday was not an average day.  In fact, I felt so confident that after watching Glee, I felt like it was the zenith of my life where I could do everything, except belting out ridiculous notes (reality gave me a check on that one).

I'm starting to like Wednesdays because of the perfect balance of a brain rotting opportunity while getting my supposedly sufficient amount of education, as I have class for at least five hours, and then an amazing TV lineup, at least to my standards, of Jeopardy, America's Next Top Model, and Glee.

Also, for some reason, this TV lineup makes me very maudlin.

For instance, I feel very smart playing Jeopardy, I'm overly excited when Brittany wins elimination challenges, I feel like singing "Alone" (which I love, by the way), and a mixture of those emotions (sans singing) when watching Top Chef.

Overall, as much as I hate to begin my shifts at 7 in the morning with four hours of prep (four! too much!), it's definitely a great way to end a day knowing that my eyes are about to sink faster than the Titanic, and yes once again, that odd confidence that I can belt out "Alone" to that one girl.

Ahem, ahem.

Usually, holy shit moments are life changing and all that.  Some, however are like hidden gems, except it's of the opposite effect where you say Holy Shit because something holyshitty bad just happened to you. 

A perfect example of a good "Holy Shit" moment is when Ashley Merriman, Top Chef competitor is cooking for Joel Robuchon.  I don't blame her for it since the man is the Chef of the Century after all, and that he's eating her food.

On the other hand, my holy shit moments are nothing equivalent to meeting Robuchon, or even close to a Top Chef competitor.  For instance, I just realized that the hundred dollars haven't gone yet from my bank account for my Intern payment.  This HS moment now puts me in a very unbalanced position between sleepy, motivated to do homework, cranky, worried and all of those other emotions in between.

It's only 10 in the evening, and I'm freaking tired from everything, then all of a sudden one of my friends tells me that she should be studying for her math midterm and "toodles".  Reminds me of my first math test this friday to which I still have to finish the homework for, but have no motivation for it - Great, another holy shit moment.

Anyways, I'm going to end this blog on this note and follow Phil Hellmuth's new poker game advice:  Go with my gut instinct, and go for everything hard.  Sleeping would be a paradoxical way to do it, but it should get me more buzzed than the energizer bunny by tomorrow.

Why do hotdogs come in packages of ten, while hotdog buns come in packages of eight?

This question comes to mind when it comes to today/tonight.

Today, I had my birthday bonfire and I started the day off by waking up at 7:35 in the morning, getting ready.  I woke up, took a shower and when I started packing up stuff in the truck, I slipped in fell in the nasty gunk that was on the stairs from the day before.  My ass hurt, put the first stuff in the truck, and punched my bag in pure frustration.  I solved my problem by getting the gate remote off my mom's car and that solved the problem.

After packing up, my cousin/brother and I went to Carls Jr.  Shades of Youth and Government trips are here when I'd go  to Carl's Jr. and get my usual: Chicken Sandwich, Curly Fries and Onion rings, plus a breakfast sandwich for him.  We stuffed ourselves and on the way to Dockweiler, I had no umbrella.  But when we got there, a guy was selling umbrellas and I gladly took one despite it's flimsiness during the windy period for a least three hours where I had to barricade it with firewood, cooler and a 24-case of water.

For at least six hours, I managed to finish Kitchen Confidential (a book I'm reading for English class for "Pleasure reading" - as my professor says) and get food in return for a few packets of salt.  I guess that a few acts of kindness goes a long way, and it's one of the many reasons why I want to be in the industry, but then that's another blog and another different story.

Some people then came, we talked, had a great time, and another party of too many to count came over, whose father asked if I could share a pit with them in return for firewood (which I needed, because I was foolish enough to think that I would last the whole night with only three bags of wood).  I accepted, and once again I got something back for this random act of kindness:  My successor (D-Man Jr., as I now call him) finally experienced the thrill of setting marshmallows for the first time over an open flame, and to see his culinary boner form was just a sight to behold (Again, no homo.).  Another reward I, or we got for this was dinner theatre:  a seemingly schizophrenic chick who refuses to drink water because she claims that her mother will pick her up and she'll find out that this schizo chick is drunk and that she'll never get to college.  Also in this dinner theatre was another drunk chick who you would say to "You should have seen yourself last night" for plopping on the floor after a simple nudge, and hanging on to people by hugging them so that she wouldn't fall in the sand repeatedly.  As for the final piece of this theatre, there was this one girl who I don't know whether she was drunk or not, but she walked around with her bra on.  To be completely honest as a human being, I would have loved to see someone strip the bra off of her to give the dinner theatre more value than it should.  After all, getting wood wasn't good enough.  It just wasn't.

Two more people came at the near end of the night, and the hour just passed by too quickly as we swapped stories about Westchester and the trash that happened around it, and the scum that stayed there.  Needless to say, as much as I enjoyed their company, I enjoyed their gifts as well.  Though I have yet to remind myself to find about a book about aphrodisiacs.  I guess that's as close to an erotic chef's book as you can get.

The classic answer to the hotdog question above is that "No matter what happens, you always get a hotdog".  Think about it, Ladies and Gents.  I would rather much eat a hotdog rather than a hotdog bun since it is more savory, and I'll be damned if a bum ever preferred to eat a hotdog bun rather than a hotdog.  My point of this message is that I'm thankful for the people who came and made this a good, if not a great night and thatI'm fine with my friends who couldn't go because of certain reasons, which I totally understand.  I have nothing against these people, and I am assuring you, dear reader, that our friendship is still in tact and you're still on the VIP list for Eversoul one of these days. 

And just for a note about hotdogs: Always get Hebrew National.  They didn't pay me to endorse them, but I trust these Hebrew National people despite Hassan telling me to not trust the Jews, that their hotdogs are 100 percent kosher beef.  Put it in a skewer over a fire, on a bun and some good Dijon mustard (I mean, some quality brand Dijon mustard) and some relish and have a meal that should satisfy you for two, if not four hours.

To end this whole thing, note to self: Put Hotdogs on Fridge.

I always felt that there's nothing secure in life.

It feels great to acquire something that's great - in my case, fifty thousand dollars to go to New York in the best, and I emphasize once again, THE BEST culinary school out there.  However, since it is of great value, the cost of its protection or maintenance is really high as well, as I can't screw up in school (3.0 or higher), and deal with an internship here.

As much as I hate to admit it, I've always lived the life of an athlete -  fine, I'm a big guy who's played three sports and somewhat adept at them that I have the ability to name some, if not all teams in any sport of your choice. (minus rugby, soccer, or "football").  I also have the ability to coach in these sports, and play at least three or four of them if I was given the position that I desired.

I've always read these stories of how they became great success stories where some came out of poverty, overcoming adversity, resilience, and for overcoming that kind of struggle, they were rewarded greatly for hard work, perspiration and passion.

But there's always another side to the story:  There are athletes who are out there and take their talent for granted, and it goes to waste, because they don't have what those "success stories" had.  There is some speculation that the people in these side are those rich folks where daddy taught them basketball and sent them to basketball camps and suddenly became great. 

To be completely honest, being a non-believer in a solid reason has hindered me from doing things that I really want to do.

For instance, to be really honest, I really couldn't find any words to say when the CIA essay asked me for what got me in the food industry.  If I said that I watched Top Chef's series premiere on a bored night as an underachieving high school sophomore, it doesn't put off a great impression as these people in the CIA would kill for those who are more passionate than I am.

It's as if that day, I was questioning who I really am and what I could have done now.  My friends are gone to UC's, out of state colleges, struggling in physics or paying for bullshit classes or seminars like Oceanology, and reality's starting to hit me only in this moment (since I know this feeling would be gone after I purge everything out).

At the end of the day, I really don't want my life to change.  I've met good people along the way, and as much as I don't have the Anthony Bourdain material (which I happen to love reading) for the CIA to read, there's a rhyme for every reason.  At the end of the day, as far as my friends are ahead of their college expereinces, I'll catch up to them.

"Describing Degrassi"

I love imagining how things would happen.

I remember blogging about imagining myself on of my dream nights, just eating cheetos and drinking coke while enjoying the ocean breeze until 10 at Dockweiler, since that's when the party ends, I suppose.

This recent thought will be somewhere along the lines of "describing Degrassi" according to Brandon.  Definitely not my intention to piss him off, but it's just a good, if not perfect way to describe it.

I always think about me and the person I like just walking down a straight line, whether it be a forest trail, down by the beach, a grass knoll, or somewhere silent and beautiful that we can talk in a whisper and it still would sound as if we were talking on our normal speaking voice (Youth and Governmentish much?).

I'm imagining that this person and I are just walking and having a good conversation around this silent and beautiful place, and suddenly, I just tell her that I like her, hoping it doesn't turn awkward. 

I don't really know how this thought of an episode ends as to whether or not it goes in the right direction.  There's three ways I could see this ending:  One, she feels the same way about me and we feel good about it.  Two, I feel good about telling her, but she doesn't feel the same way, but I still feel good for knowing it, or three, it goes sour to the point where the friendship rips apart and everything else is gone out into thin air and out of nowhere.  And if there was anything else, then I wouldn't be surprised by it either.

These past few days have been emotionally draining for me.

Yesterday was probably my worst service yet. 

There were super weird tickets, where the runner (who's slowly gradually becoming a good buddy of mine) reads a ticket wrong, a waiter goes in my station, and the lack of communication.  The lack of communication part really frustrates me, since I've already accepted the fact that most of them speak Spanish and I'm very inept at it.  Although I am very frustrated about it, I don't really care if you have a problem and disguise it with something else, but if it concerns me and my station, I don't want asking anyone for a translation of what just happened.  That ruins me, and if I really don't know what's going on then my progress is either stunted or will start going on a downward trend.

I also had thoughts that day that I was God's laughingstock and the reason of him keeping me alive after my accident three days before was that he didn't want people to live my example: An underachiever who almost died getting steamed buns from Carson.

I probably blame my only food intake then either being overstuffed by two wraps and a plate of fries, or the three cookies while I had during service....

This is probably why I wanted to go to the gym in the first place:  I felt good then, and whenever I went back to work, I felt like I could do anything.  Well, almost anything.

I guess this is what happens when I'm waiting for sheets to get done, I start to rant and then everything else doesn't piece together well...

But yes, USC lost today and UCLA won, woohoo!

I am not myself lately, and I think I know why.

I was in an accident yesterday, and I still can't get over it.  It's as if every car moves to the right, I can't help but cringe, brake slowly and go way below the speed limit.

It's almost as if my confidence was shattered in half, and I don't even know if I'm going to get it back.

There's so many thoughts on my head right now from that one day, from the point of impact to my drive home on a car with really bad wheel alignment and screeching wheels from Long Beach to Gardena.

I don't even know to where to start, but I'll fire away.

1.  I've "complained" about a routine life, and I needed something to spice it up.  This was not the way I wanted to do it, especially with my birthday coming up, and all.

2.  My mom keeps reitirating the point that God saved my life.  My aunt died the same way, except I didn't get hit while spinning two lanes into a hazard lane into the grass.

3.  This whole ordeal is affecting me.  My shoulders are always up, I don't know why, but I feel stiff and icy.  I'm still comfortable driving, but again my confidence is just shattered, and I'm still livid from that bastard who bumped me in the side.  As much as I hate to say it, this is how I really feel and nothing can change that, even though my parents have easily forgiven me for it.

4.  I need to rethink life.  It's as if I've been doing it wrong, and there's some really weird and twisted message in this.  I don't know how to redo it, but for starters, I should just appreciate my so called routine life for now, get a PASS in my english class, and get an A in my math class, then head out for New York, start a whole new life over there.

Despite this whole accident, I am in one piece, blogging late once again, as I've been almost falling asleep in work and my legs are getting more tired by the minute, per hour. 

Also, something that greatly balances this out is that I've been accepted as a Youth and Government intern.  I'm really psyched about it, and I'm glad that I'm not the only Westchesterian (not really from Westchester, but my name badge says so) that's interning.

Besides all that emotion, now I have to ask my boss for a dayoff on the sixteenth of October, and knowing that it will fly, Sarah and I are driving to Ontario.  Not sure if it's only her or me, but it's going to be fun either way.

Anyways, time to sleep because I have to work.  One more day, and it's my birthday and a paycheck!

My life seems to be very routine lately.  I blog about my math and english classes, what happens at work everyday and how things are at home.

I have my driving privileges.  I have money (well, I technically don't - I have to hold out for my birthday bonfire on friday), so why shouldn't I do something with my life to spice it up?

Any ideas?

This whole Kanye West craze is ridiculous.  One might say that his interruption of Taylor Swift's acceptance speech was a public stunt, it sure didn't look like it with her face almost somewhat teary-eyed, and a sudden boo from the audience.  Oh well.  Here's another South Park episode dedicated to the Kanye's asshole personality.

I realized that I blog so late at night is that it's the perfect time that I could sift my thoughts in silence.  At this point, I'm not really doing that, but I can live.

I've been doing homework for my Developmental Reading/Writing class, and so far it's just tedious.  I don't know why I forget to do it at the last minute, as if I've forgotten that I spent ten dollars on a planner.  Seriously, ten dollars on a planner?  That's a ripoff.

But going on with the class, I expect my book(s) to arrive tomorrow, so that I can use them in class to review.  All this night though, I've been studying or completing sections that only relate to context clues.  I don't even think I needed a dictionary for some of them.

As for my math, I'm still sticking to my dislike of word problems.  It's not that I don't have the ability to work on them, it's just that I have too many distractions in my life, but so far, I'm coasting through it rather nicely.

I can't believe that this is my birthday week.  I'll be nineteen soon, and all I really have to say is I'm excited about Saturday, though I'm very nervous as to how it will turn out.

The weirdest and most interesting conversations come in between 11 evening until I go to sleep.

I'm having one with Hassan right now who for some reason is giving me the rundown of the people I've liked in the past.  It's funny in a way now that I can laugh at it, since back then it was a stressful period of time just having those people affecting a portion of my thought process.

I've also been trying to come up with a creative way to answer the ten things that I want to tell people.  I only have five people to tell things to at the moment.  That, and as much as I want to be very, very straightforward, I have to keep in mind that my blog is exported in facebook, thus my facebook friends get to read it, and with a portion of them being adults, I respect their opinions of me, plus some so I really do not want to put my grievances out there as a whole.

Since this is the weekend, I don't have anything else to write.  Nothing around me as of this moment stimulates thought... Maybe Arielle's essay, which I should give a second look since she gave me her second draft of it.  Before that though was a day of watching college football games, playing tennis, doing math sections and messing around with my laptop...

If you actually read this, I encourage you to read letlive's blog.  The "food for thought" section is amazing.

My room is not a mecca of cleanliness, as it is in fact the opposite.

I can see without turning my head a couple of plates, cd's, notebooks, wires, and a book that I just recently got.  The book is called Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain where he talks about the secrets of the restaurant business - in a somewhat bad way, however realistic.

I've been dying to read Anthony Bourdain the first time I've ever heard him talk on Top Chef.  This man is very straightforward, brash and good at what he does.  He's an American Gordon Ramsay, if you will. 

I haven't read the book yet - I've just read the introudction and skip a couple of words, then sentence here and there and all of a sudden, the whole thing since my cousin kept humming "Don't Stop Believing" along with the noise of the television during the process.  It's not worth reading or doing anything at all if you're distracted.  That's just my theory.

I also just got done playing Sims 3 for a couple hours and the shit gets boring especially when the family (mine being me, my "wife", and children - two girls) goes crazy.  Funny thing is that I named my twin girls Casey and Ashleigh (really, I did, and the part that's upcoming after will only be comprehended by those who watch Greek).  When they became toddlers (of course, babies all look the same), Casey was brunette and Ashleigh was blonde.  I'm not kidding, and even I had to laugh at it.

But not to over analyze a game, where did the blonde hair come from knowing that me and "my wife" have black hair?

Uh-oh. (Oreo?)

As for other parts of my day, I came down to Westchester High to drop off some strings.  I'm glad that I was welcomed back, and it's so much better being an outsider than being an insider by not experiencing the crappy administration that it has to offer along with many other factors, of course.

At work today, there was a caterpillar on the salad.  It still makes me wonder how it got there considering that every piece of lettuce is washed, spun and all that mumbo jumbo.  Maybe it did fall out of a tree, who knows.  But my boss was pretty livid about it and eventually saw the light that is the logic of it falling off a tree.  Whew.

Birthday's in a week.  I'm psyched.

I don't know if I'll write at this rate of two blogs a night.  I'm not even trying, it's just that so much thought spews out of my brain that I need to actually get it out so I can sleep decently at night.

I wouldn't say that this happened for the first time in my life, but for the first time in a while, someone told me that they missed me.  It actually made my day, and like Mark Twain, I could live off these words (or in his case, compliments) for a month.

My other thought is that taking this English Class would add some vocabulary to my arsenal of words.  I feel like a test subject in Flowers for Algernon, where Charlie, the main character, becomes a test subject for intelligence pills that do actually work.

Although they did work, it worked for a short amount of time.  Side note, Charlie "speled lyk dis" - something not is not really ebonics however resembling the said format.

While I feel that this english class will boost my vocabulary, It'll be lost again sometime until I either memorize it or use it over and over again. 

That's what school is for, right?

I find myself jamming lately to Glee's version of "Gold Digger" despite missing a good portion of it.  Oh well, it's a family show.

But I had a couple of thoughts during work today, one of them being the difference between a punch and a kick and how my "Perfect 20" Youth and Government shirt related to it.

Besides the obvious differences of a punch and a kick with fists for punches and legs for kicks, I realized that we describe our food that has a certain "punch" of flavor, or a "kick" of a certain flavor.

It's not PEMDAS, it's not interchangable.

Punch is the "word" used if you want to describe it as having a lot of flavor. Think about it.  Why do you think fruit punch is so fucking sweet that it can melt your enamel away?

Kick, on the other hand is primarily used for spicy stuff.  As if I ate some uber-spicy ice cream in North Carolina (I've actually read an article over AOL over this) where you have to sign a waiver before you get to eat it.  But yes, a "kick" is spice just goes off in your mouth, like a flame, or something of the sort.

Just thought I'd put that out there.

My second thought is that I wore my "Perfect 20" shirt after a long while.

For those who don't know, 20 is the highest score you can get on your proposal in the National Issues Commission program in Youth and Government.  It needs to have Creativity, Debatability and all that other stuff.  (Maybe this is why I don't deserve to be an intern? lol.)

But yes.  Those two, plus three other unmentioned/forgotten categories add up to a score up to twenty.  For the rest of the synopsis about the program, join Youth and Government and join NIC.

It's fun, and yes I'm promoting the Youth and Government program.

Now, back to my life. ( I know, I'm such an ass.)

My boss told me today that I get to "experience democracy" by being in the Employee's Committee.

Yup.

So basically, this is somewhat Youth and Government for me all over again, but with grown-ups and Managers.  I repeat, managers.  The thoughts in my head are flowing faster than the water in Niagara falls.  I've been working in the club for two months, and I do not know anything that goes around the system!

That's why I'm here for, right?

But after a monologue from my British general manager (yes, he's British, he wants England to win the World Cup, and he's a proud drunk while being an avid English soccer fan), I had a really good time with it and felt very professional.

Also, note to self:  Use proper grammar when blogging.  Partial reason why I have a crappy grade reading level...

I suppose that would be all...

This is going to be my real post for tonight.  You can read the last post that I had if you want to, but my philosophy is that if I put it out there, then it's out there.  It's like food that I make, people consume it and it'll never go back.  Maybe it does, but it all turns out to be fecal matter.

Today is my third day at El Camino.  I'm starting to gain stride as a student again despite my 12.5 + 8.5 = 21.0/2 = 10.5 grade level reading average, or so a test said.

Alex once said something about how tests shouldn't determine our lives.  Then again, Naomi said that it doesn't really determine as to what we are, it just verifies it.

As for a side note, Alex and Naomi are two of my friends, and with all due respect, I won't release their last names.

But going back to the test.  As much as I'm disappointed about my sophomore-reading level, there's a lot of variables that go into this:

1. I hated high school level reading.  I.E - Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Sound and The Fury.  Sorry Mr. Mernin.

2. 2's on both my AP Lit and AP English tests.  I don't really know if that's just a matter of bad test-taking or a lack of reading comprehension or both.  Someone give me a dose of harsh reality.

Going back to the topic of college, it's these two factors, plus some of course that carried me into these class.  After all, old habits die hard, or the domino effect theory.  Pick your poison.

I was sitting in my english class and I can't help but notice the people around me.  There's this one person who keeps nodding his head left to right.  He nods his head enough as if you can put a Jim Carrey voice-over in Yes Man where the scene of the tow truck driver says "NO MAN. NO MAN".  Then I learned he was blind.  I guess it all becomes understandable....

Another person that stands out in my class is this person who sits next to me.  He hasn't brought his supplies for english, and I've been lucky enough to shop in bulk that my manila folders were gone in half and I was two more scantrons short.  However, I'm not going to complain about it (partial lie here), since I was willing to give up some supplies.  "It's like kindergarten again", as Gabriella Montez (High School Musical - shoot me if you may for such an allusion) says.  Give a juice box, gain a friendship.  Something like that, I guess.

Going on with this person, I felt the essence of Westchester again sitting in Kamm's economics/government class where a majority of the people there are academically deprived, and some of them are just there for the credit (myself, for example, but this time, it really counts).  He constantly texts on his phone as I can hear his phone vibrate, and texts while the professor is giving lectures, and cracking jokes right in front of her.  I don't really mind that kinda attitude, but I wouldn't act like an idiot to someone who controls my fate as of the moment.

Going into Math class, I also feel very confident as this is intermediate algebra.  I have said in the past that I have hit roadblocks with my homework, and I'm feeling that roadblock once again, just for a couple sections, of course but a roadblock nonetheless.

My professor reminds me of a Mernin/Alex (Schmiddy) fuse.  He somewhat has Alex's features (but from afar), with a Mernin attitude (he was a guitarist too).  His lectures are easy and simple, and I never get bored with it, considering that solving math problems keeps me busy enough.

I keep looking at the bottom right corner of my laptop and it reads 12:07 and ongoing.  I still have work tomorrow, and I really don't want to look dead on my station.  Also, my back hurts a bit.  I don't know why, and I still have to copy forty pages from a book tomorrow.  That's five dollars, at least.  Blah....

I love college?

I'm stuck as to what to write between my experiences in English class or my oddly weird unknown fetish?

I think I'll go for the first one, since the thought has been marinating too much in my head that Tom Collicchio would tell me it's overkill.

It's my fourth day at El Camino.  Correct me, third day since there was labor day.  I am finally an established student (or I guess I can say that considering I usually get my groove on after the third day).

The thought that lingers most in my mind as of the moment is my reading level, which is why I've decided to write this little piece in the first place:  To disobey my professor's orders and to share the world what I got despite telling us that these scores should be private.

On one test, I got a 12.5 reading level (grade level, go figure) and on some RFU (forgot what it actually was, but go look it up anyway), I'm a high school freshman.

How embarassing?

Whatever.

As for the other part of this blog, you can message me about it because it's not something to be told over facebook.  To tell you the truth, it's an observation, not necessarily a fetish.  So there.

Work tomorrow.  Leaving my station at 12 while short two people will not leave my conscience and I can hear Chef yelling on me a la Ramsay by calling me either a stupid cow or a lazybitch or somewhere along those lines.

But yeah, I hope not.

So far, I am finding my math sets easy except for two sections, and as for another one that's currently work in progress, I just think it's too tedious, but at the same time easy.

I guess this is what I go to school for, huh?

I've said in the past that I was very skeptical going into college because of my lack of academic ability.  So far, I'm proud to say that I'm making progress, except that I'm for some reason worried that I'll need my books tomorrow for english and they won't be in the mail two days until my birthday.

Looks like someone's gonna head out to El Camino early to copy some chapters.

Back to progress.  I said that I was making progress because I find my math homework very do-able so far, but I guess for homeworks, I really do have to hit up the library to really get into it.  Seriously, libraries are like those rehab places to "seclude" you from the real world and it's "evils", kind of like rehab places and the drugs thing.

Speaking of school, I'm glad that my mates (the younger ones, of course) are starting school.  I'm only saying this because they are on their way out, and really... after four years, who wouldn't want to be out in the shit-hole that is high school and the drama that surrounds it?

However though, just because it's a shit-hole it doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the better moments you experience in there.  It's a shit-hole for a reason: Crap goes out of it, then there's that sudden relief then there's things being digested then it turns into crap.

It's just another cycle in our lives, really.

To end in a happy note, it looks like that I'm going to sleep early considering that it felt like I didn't get any today, especially during  rush at work

Note to self:  Prep better, bring two sharpies, cover all your bases.

Goodnight to everyone, school tomorrow.

Why did I even write this?

I hate the feeling when "my heart drops".

I don't even know how to explain it, it's like someone punched inside your heart or something... You have to experience it for yourself.

But yes, I've been playing Sims 3 for hours and this might be a sign that I need a new game.  MLB 2k9, FTW?

I also found out that Sims 3 is having an expansion pack.  Yay for expansion packs, because this one certainly needs it.

The Circle of Life

I don't understand how a relationship works.

There's a lot of stories behind them. Some met at a Starbucks, someone decided to be a jackass on Facebook to see if people had the same name as him (which he did, and they ended up getting married somewhere), or some people meet them doing eHarmony... so on, so forth.

For some reason, I believe that asking every girl/woman (whichever) out is pathetic. Then again, how do you find out if this person's the one?

Then if you do find "the one", you become talk and become friends with them until at some point you decide to ask them out and they decide to tell you that you're at a dead end with a friendship and a friendship only along with "sorry" and a hug. It's insult added to injury, then you're just back to square one.

Pretty much, this whole ordeal can be summed up as....

(See title above)

I've been starting one draft after another, and there's nothing worthy to post about. This is not the AP test where I have to post whatever I write after two hours of reading essays and making bullshit up. I write because I feel like it, and like Eminem, as much as I need a new outlet, I really don't have anything.

Therefore, as much as I mention all my problems with people going out to Colorado, people going to un-hawt Jewish frat parties at Berkeley or people beating me to relationships, I can't really do anything about it except to swallow the damn pill of reality and live with it.

I really think that the source of frustration right now comes with the pressure of me keeping a getting a B in a math class, though I am taking two classes, which one really is a Pass/Fail, but I still have to pass the exit exam, kind of like an evolved CAHSEE of sorts. So really, this math class is an "A or else you're stagnant for the rest of your life". That, and the fact that it's such a long way to go makes it so much harder....

But I picked this route, and now I'm going to deal with it. New York, here I come.

Snap back to reality!

Guess who's back in the scholastic society.

That's right, I'm back, but this time... more refined.

But yes, I started my first day at El Camino College with my Developmental Reading and Writing English and my Intermediate Algebra class. I guess it's what I get after four years of trying "hard" in high school...

When I signed up for classes, I architected them so that it fits seamlessly into my schedule. Little did I know that my English class had a Wednesday class as well, forcing me to either drop it out, or lose a day of work... I hope I do get the latter though I lose another forty-eight dollars or so. I mean, in my situation right now, I'd rather lose forty-eight dollars than sixty thousand... Don't you think?

But yes, let me walk you through my day.

My first class was Developmental Reading and writing. I drove around a parking structure for fifteen minutes, got lost a bit, then I sat down to read Jay Rayner's book and got a good chapter in. Went in the class, took roll and took a test that tests (obviously what tests do) my reading ability.

Say what?

Yeah, I got placed in this class because I got a 59 percent in my reading comprehension, and I needed a sixty to get into English 1A. The reality is though, I think I might need that class because I need a vocabulary, and gain some more interest in reading. That, and it's a pass/fail class, so it really is a blessing in disguise.

My second class was Intermediate Algebra. Before this class, I had the fifty minute test in English, which I finished early on. I was supposed to have a half hour break in between classes, but now it has become an hour. FML.

So, to spend my hour, I dug down on some subway, despite Andy Kamm (my econ teacher)'s beliefs of it being bum food, and read more of Jay Rayner's book, to the point where I'm very much close to finishing it.

Back to Algebra. We went to class, had a sub and talked about lines. Slopes, midpoint formulas, graphing... That stuff. Long story short, we got out half an hour early, got a super expensive textbook, got home and watched Greek...

After that craziness, I started my homework I think an hour ago, and it hurts my wrists and patience to graph all fucking night. That's why I decided to just start this blog up and finish up the rest of the work that's due tomorrow....

Don't follow my example. Finish your stuff in time, always. For now, I'm just gonna settle in until one of my major problems gets fixed tomorrow, and that is asking for Wednesdays off...

Youth and Government Intern Essay. Yus.

The hardest thing for a child to do is to make a monumental decision and endure the emotional sting of leaving his friends without saying a simple see-you-later or a goodbye. I experienced this eight years ago, when I made the choice to leave Phillipines to head out for the States, where many consider is a huge mansion with many doors and windows open for opportunity.

My first three years here would be something I would call my transitional phase. Even though I had my aunt, cousin and mother (who has stayed in the States three years prior to my arrival) to help slowly integrate me in the American society/culture, I felt that it wasn't enough as every choice came down with me and every choice came down with a result whether it was a good one or a bad one.

My very first year in the States in seventh grade, I was the stereotypical immigrant Asian kid: The perfectionist, the one with the straight A's, and only knew basketball as a sport. Because of these three traits combined, I was often taken advantage of whether it was borrowing my basketball and returning it to me after a long period of time (three days maximum), or being the next best answer source since google for a problem that is as simple as "5 + x = 9, what is X?".

Because of this problem, I either had to just take it day by day and tolerate it, or totally change my routine. I picked the latter. I chose to be the stereotypical immigrant Asian kid, minus the basketball because I realized that I was no good compared to these people, and I was too homesick with my friends who were the reason as to why I started in the first place. This is why instead, I found a new group of kids, one that had obsessions with MegaMan and Gameboys who hang out at my math teacher's room during lunch. Thinking about it as I am writing this, I truly have no regrets hanging out with a dorky crowd, because I didn't really care or knew about the caste system of popularity that went on. I stuck with the option of being myself, and even though I was getting my end kicked at MegaMan, it was all worth it: I got to play my GameBoy during lunch, and kept my academic standard up, pushing for a 4.0.

If we are birds flying around this huge mansion of opportunity with many windows and doors open, we have the privilege to perch up on a window and see what's inside it, but never forget that we still are birds and still have the ability to fly and explore if we ever felt like it and find something better.

Feeling Blank.

I'm seriously jammed in answering a question for the Youth and Government internship application. The question is: "Give us one example of a time that you have had to adjust the way you dealt with a difficult situation independently".

As much as I would love to share my story of when I emigrated here in 2002, or the time that I changed behind a bench on Manchester and Lincoln, I feel like a contenstant in "The Next Food Network Star" who's running out of stories to share, but has so much potential.

If anything, I'd write about the temporary emotional sting of "losing" people to other places while they experience something new, and I'm stuck here to more of the same with the lingering thought in my head that I won't put up to expecations that may possibly just put me in the same place forever.

I don't want to be the guy who says shit happens for a reason, because it's a sign of weakness (yes, I did read that recently on the letlive blog - out of all places), and I'm starting to believe it.

Maybe after this one, I won't be blank on that question anymore - who knows?

Shrill-Ville

There's something about my mother's voice that I can't stand.

I don't know, it's like this really high pitched shrill sound that when she asks me, or anyone else, that sounds like she's a straight up foreigner (which she really is).

I hate hearing these kinds of sounds, and especially after a good night home, it's either the last thing that I want to hear, or at least I don't mind hearing it as long as she has nothing to bitch about.

But seriously, it's one of those voices that I cannot stand, and because I have no punching bag or some heavy cushioned outlet to punch on, I'm "punching" in my anger with a keyboard. Oh puns, ever so lovely.

But yeah, it's eleven in the evening now, and I think that's the last of that very shrill, accented voice that is my mother's. Here's hoping to I didn't miss anything that she notices, because I'm tired, and I really don't want to do anything else.

Collegiate Blues

There is something about anxiety that removes the bliss of anything in our lives.

I just got paid today, I just got a laptop, I should be happy. But instead, here I am thinking about having to maintain a 3.0 in El Camino so that I could still go to the Culinary Institute of America, unscathed from debt with a sixty grand scholarship at hand.

I'm so anxious to start college that if I get my first piece of homework, I'll do it right away, and if I ever looked at the syllabus and the professor said that the test is this day, I'll study hard for it. I mean, that's the only solution to this problem of nervousness and anxiety where I don't know what to expect, and I don't know what to do next, and I hate that feeling.

I mean, what are the odds of failing especially if you meet twice a week, for two hours a day? Slim? Fat? What, are we talking about people now?

But in all seriousness, I've been thinking about responsibility and I keep wanting it, but I keep avoiding it, much like wanting a girlfriend but not exactly dating anyone because she's not pretty enough or she doesn't have a palate for good ice cream.

I went to Best Buy today, and my mom ever so desperately wanted me to get a credit card. Idiot here (myself) decides to put an estimate on his income at about 10,000 dollars a year, which I totally hope isn't, and maybe that's the primary cause for me not getting it. What's worse is that they suggested the co-sign option, which basically tells someone that if you screw up, you take your co-signer down with you.

I don't want that.

But really, would you say that it was trying to avoid responsibility because I didn't want to harm my mother on the process, or am I really just biting off more than I could chew with this whole responisiblity thing...

See what anxiety does to you? It drives you nuts.

One more week. I'm stoked.

Frosted Flakes are great, flakes aren't.

Prior to this note, this is just for myself because I've been dying to have this picture for a while albeit it's simplicity: http://www.allaboutalton.com/graphics2/knives.jpg

Yay.

But I've noticed lately that I've been a flake in a lot of things that I'm supposedly been wanting to do lately.

I went to the gym and felt like shit, to the point where I don't even know where I'm doing that I switch from one machine to another every five minutes (I.E Treadmill, Stairmaster, and whatever the heck you call that other one with your feet moving without running - supposedly works your glutes, hammies, etc.).

I've also been a flake on my supposedly new blog, though I really do think that I have ingredients in the house that I could use, but I'm being very obsessive compulsive about a complete pantry before doing a recipe before I do it, so there's another reason for that...

Maybe it's my lack of sleep that causes all of my thoughts for today, I mean seriously, as much as I want my pet to lick me to oblivion to wake me up, I don't like the idea of four or five of them jumping at me at... eight in the morning?

It's the weekend for christ sakes, and I want my sleep. Until I get my money and motivation to do something, all I really want to do is sleep.

Yep. Sleep sounds good right now at 9:35 in the evening...

Word of the day: Insipid

At this time, I'm finding life to be the word of the day.

I don't know if it takes place because I'm tired and partially insane due to the lack of sleep or whether it's just there's nothing interesting to do as my computer is still virused out as fuck (here's hoping that Mark can fix my problem - reminder to self: Drop by Mark's.) and Facebook is on it's randomly allocated website maintenance.

I don't really know.

Maybe it's because I was just asked to wash dishes again. Shit, if I hate any chore there is in the world, it's dishes. Much like the word of the day, I could eat out of the pan if I wanted to with a spoon, but that would obviously be unethical, disgusting, unsanitary and not too cheffy...

Maybe it's because I've seen this word on a blog once, and was used in Julie and Julia by Amy Adams (who looks better brunette, by the way) and I just loved the word ever since?

Eh, it's all of the above. I'll admit it myself: This blog post is the word of the day. Time to wash dishes, check facebook one more time, and get some sleep for tomorrow. I'm bushed.

Good Morning, Good Afternoon and Good Night.

हाहा दूदे थिस इस तोताल्ली अमज़िंग। अस इ ऍम टाइपिंग थिस, आईटी कोन्वेर्ट्स एवेर्य्थिंग इ से इन्तो सम हिन्दी व्रितिंग। वैरी, वैरी त्रिप्प्य।

Enough of my amusement.

-------------------------------------------

It's almost midnight and I still have work tomorrow at nine in the morning. Whatever, I believe that I can work to the best of my ability even with seven hours of sleep. I'm used to it but I'm not going to get healthier that way and especially with school looming along the sidelines, I can't really screw anything up from this point on.

Today, I went to Sarah's goodbye-for-now party as she leaves for Arizona in six days.

It was almost Sacramento all over again, and if it's not "all" then the feeling was very much close to it.

Unlike Sacramento, we did not have a week to see each other on the sidewalks of Sacramento, debate bills or proposals, send page notes and anything else that YnG does that I don't really know as we only got four or five hours to meet potential friends and hang out with old ones as well.

Unlike the Mexican food at Sacramento, this one was free and just as good and unlike then, a tostada would not be enough for me but a small plate of a taco, an empanada and a taquito was enough.

Despite all these differences, the one that remained the same was the camaraderie of the people as everyone seemed to get along with their own personal jokes, stories, pictures and hobbies and the latter.

Before I forget, Amber told me to read 1001 things to eat before you die - There, I wrote it in case I lose it somewhere, and you ought to read it too and do it as well (if you're adventurous enough, that is).

The main reason why this is being compared to Sacramento is the essence of leaving other people to meet new ones. Once again, we always know in our hearts and minds that we will be reunited someday, but the reality that we have to leave and conquer new challenges wherever it may be is inevitable...

As selfish as I want to be, I don't want to keep them all for myself and I believe that more of the same is boring (a reason why we voted for President Obama). Not really a knock on my friends, but it's definitely great to experience something new...

Anyways, I am currently trying to solve a spywared computer because I've developed a long lasting hate for Geek Squad that I don't want to pay 80 in deposit so that they can screw me overall...

For No Obvious Reason

I've been doing a lot of things for no obvious reason.

Back during the delegation banquet/lock-in, I told a friend that I wasn't paranoid about anything until I had to come up with something as to why I was paranoid, which in turn became a good piece of writing that up to this day (hopefully, or not sure about it) is still up on my friend's wall...

I've also been going to the gym a lot for no reason at all. I really just go because I'm sick and tired of a routine life of working, going home and sticking my face to a computer all day. After all, it feels really good.

Because of my sudden initiative to go to the gym, my cousin (a sixty-forty ratio supporter-cynic) asked me as to what the REAL reason was for going to the gym. When I gave my simple yet honest answer as to "I have nothing else to do with my life", he said that there HAD (emphasis on that) to be SOMETHING (emphasis on that too) that happened that made you want to do this, and I said "Nope."

I don't really know why everything needs to have a solid reason behind it.

I decided to become a chef because I watched the Season Premiere of Top Chef and said that's what I wanted to do.

I decided to play tennis because my mom forced me to go to her lessons at West L.A College, and I had no other athletic besides basketball and knowing Westchester's basketball team, I wouldn't even survive a tryout much less make the team.

I decided to join YnG because of the stories that Nik and Nathan told me from how fun it is to meet new people and show or piss off with how you present your arguments and the page notes.

For most of my short lived almost nineteen year old life, I haven't found anything wrong with winging it without a solid reason.

When I wrote the Million Dollar Question of who interested me in the hospitality business, I said that it was the people around me. Read more of it here:

http://likedoodseriously.blogspot.com/2009/08/million-dollar-question.html

When I made the team my sophomore year, as much as I hated it, I started liking both the aspect of improvement and the high camaraderie of a real team (As I've been in a Chess Team, there is no camaraderie in that at all).

When I went all out in my last YnG sessions where I got page notes, took on leadership and put my best food forward, I started loving it.

The main reason why I'm not a firm believer in a solid reason (pun very much intended) is this: Anyone can have a solid reason for doing what they want to do, but if it's not backed up by an ounce of love or passion, then the reason slowly melts away, much like an ice would if it didn't have the air from the freezer to keep it solidified.

That is why we want to experience all the things in the world: For the right of being there, for solidifying our reasons to do what we want to do, and back up fact whenever needed.