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.