This is why you never stockpile your work.  Here's my schedule for today, or at least supposed:

Shower.

Lunch.

2 Pricing Cost Forms for Math

Product Knowledge Notes

Gastronomy Study Notes

Food Safety Notes

Editing 2 Essays for English.


So yeah, never again.

The main reason that I have a love-hate relationship with Gastronomy is that it is Philsophy.  Philosophies in colleges are taught by professors who I believe (personal bias included) try instilling their thoughts through other students by either failing or awarding them a low grade for not seeing certain viewpoints their way.

What is truly interesting about this class though is how food is not seen as food.  Rather, it is seen as a commodity, a metaphor, a story with a moral value behind it.  I love that.  That's why I really don't mind learning these things in the first place.

For instance, I watched the TED talk on Spaghetti Sauce today by Malcolm Gladwell.  First impression upon hearing the name was that he is a wrinkling, old, caucasian man (yes, really.).  Quite the contrary as he is a seemingly young African-American. 

The thing that interested me the most about this Spaghetti Sauce talk was that how people were seeking the perfect thing.  The Ultimate, the Numero Uno, whatever you would like to call it.  "Howard", the character that Gladwell talks about during his speech created a system of diversity in food, creating flavors, different varieties of food that suits one out of many group's preferences thus the Extra-chunky spaghetti was born. 

The reason for variety is diversity.  The main irony in this is that no one has detected this flaw of the platonic system (in simpler terms: "Because Stone Cold said So) in a country that is considered a melting pot, full of different nationalities and cultures.  In this rule of perfection, the rule of Goldilocks applies:  Some, we don't like, and eventually we'll always find that one that always suits us.

Another thing that I have read was on salt.  Thomas Keller loves salt, and I might finally understand why.

One, it's an edible rock.  It's the only edible rock.  You wouldn't eat sand, or a pebble.  I mean you can, but you would probably use a tooth.

2.  Salt is percieved as an ingredient of positive value.  When you spill it, you throw some over your left shoulder to keep the devil away.  There was also a moral value to it when a man who  just have been in the salt mines who touched a man's food and tasted better (despite unsanitary issues, no one really gave "one" until the hamburger frenzy of '93)

I'm probably going to read these a second time to take notes on it, but again, this is why I love gastronomy:  It's not only black and white.  It actually adds color to what I already know.

Saying what you need to say for cathartic causes are fine, but only do it once.  You do it the second time, you're fucked.   There is a valid explanation to this theory, but it's only comes from experience.  It's indescribable, but it certainly is unavoidable.

It's not THAT bad. It's not even bad at all.

At first, I thought that having classmates that were out of my age group would hinder me socially.

Quite the contrary. I love it.



A huge part of my personality lies on the fact that I like to listen to what people say, or I let people take over a conversation because I'd rather learn about them rather tahn the other way around.



People who are older than I am have more wisdom and knowledge, and it is so exciting to hear when they ask any kind of question because not only it broadens their seemingly wide knowledge of the topic, it broadens mine as well. Because of this kind of education, I'm actually learning from my peers as well as from my professors, which is a double whammy.



Another good part of having classmates that are over 21, or have gone through the industry is that they have a lot of stories to tell. I'm not going to lie: I sat with five people who are in the category I just mentioned, and I just listened the whole time (while taking pictures of food when necessary) about their life stories, pranks, etcetera.



In the end, people are just people and relationships can form at anytime and anywhere.



Welcome to college.

So it takes me three days of orientation to figure out that I'm too much of a one dimensional person.

It's a great experience to meet people, but to hold a conversation with them is a burden for me, considering I never kept up with trends such as Aqua Teen Hunger Force (among other things).

One can say that by the end of the previous two paragraphs that if I did try my hardest to keep up with these trends, I'm compensating my character to gain friends while losing parts of what makes me the person that I am now.

Anyways, my main point in this paragraph being one-dimensional in a college community sucks.

Another thought: while it's nice to have all this previous knowledge from watching competitions and working eight months, it kind of intimidates me a bit to start fresh.  Some people I've talked to have failed a class or two, and most of the people that I'm talking to now are in the same boat as me, starting anew thus I don't know what to expect.

While a competitive edge is required, a little humility goes a long way.  Following instructions, and all.  But then it's also making mistakes and learning from them.

I guess these words for now are empty until I actually start experiencing them.

I'm out.

Straight Up, but not Paula Abdul's.

Once upon a blog, I said that I'll be damned if I wasn't typing my later blogs in Hudson Hall in Culinary Institute of America, NY.




Here I am.



As of this moment, I don't know what to feel. I should be ecstatic. I'm here, and I made it. On the other hand, I'm concerned about the condition of my mother who admitted that she was scared to go home by herself. Murphy's law, really. I feel like it's 2003 again where I shed a couple of tears when she left me, but I was good after the next day. I do believe though that with a little belief in the man upstairs in the form of prayer that she gets home safely, it'll happen and I'll have the time of my life here, as I already am before this thought came out of left field.



What I'm looking forward to the most in college is change by being away and having my beliefs tested and corrected by my colleauges. The irony in this is that the structure of beliefs that I've held in eighteen years (eighteen years, she got one of your kids, got him for eighteen years). Jokes aside, this belief structure will be tattered and tested by time, and rest assured that everything should be fine.



Now that I have taken out all this hi-lo (sounds like a laxative) out of my system, I'm thinking about skipping breakfast tomorrow because the flyer said it's optional.



And with that, I'm out.

Hi-Lo.

Today's the first of the month which means that the cover count for lunch today at the restaurant is below average.  I don't know the average though, but it has that laid back atmosphere to it.

Leaving work tomorrow, I've noticed that despite eight months of being in the industry that it doesn't make me impeccable, rather it covers my flaws to a degree and adds a lot more to my arsenal of knowledge and networking, if anything.

It somewhat burns me to have a memory lapse especially on things that I do know about.  For instance, throwing trim away was a really bad idea and I didn't need a second lecture on it because it was already ingrained in my common sense, except that it didn't bother to act up during that period of time.

Yes, it was somewhat a blow to my confidence and my knowledge simultaneously.  However, life goes on and I get up and try to forget about it, and I'm only typing it out here cathartically(is that even a word?) with piss poor grammar because I'm trying to eliminate often using commas and I don't know how to use a semicolon.  FML.

Enough with the negativity, however.

I cooked today for my boss, and he said that he liked it.   I'm happy with that considering with what I know, but I have yet to cook for the General Manager (which will likely go down tomorrow and hopefully don't get killed on my last day.  I think it's gonna go down though.  I have faith on that.)

Chicken stock, shallots and garlic made a huge difference today in my recipe today compared to the one that I have down in my notebook.  That'll change.  Also, screw tenderloins and I need to learn how to sharpen my knives, or else I'm screwed.

formspring.me

Entertain me. http://formspring.me/likedoodsrsly

New York has now become an obsession: I've listened to Empire State of Mind and New York, New York more than any other song.

Crap.

These next two weeks would feel weird:  It's the homestretch, kind of like my last two weeks of school except I get money for it.  No, I'm not working only for the money because if that were the case, I would want to work somewhere else without a college education, and as we know in today's society doesn't fly.  (Open for debate.)

I don't know what to do for this stretch run.  There's always these bounds of professionalism that I always have to follow, but it doesn't seem like it.  I've been telling my co-workers that I'm leaving in two weeks.  Doing that doesn't seem so professional because, well, it's like bragging ninety-nine percent of the time, and I really, really hate "bragging" about these kind of things, and I really do think that it's straight up unprofessional without any reason to back it up besides my state of thought, whatever it is.

There's a certain thrill in following decorum, but if I don't even know what the proper decorum is for certain situations, then how do I learn?

On the fly?  Sure.  I've done it a lot of times, but I don't think I can do this one on the fly.

That's fine, I guess.  I'll do it that way, get scolded for a second and life moves on, I really don't know.

1. When I got to work this morning, the sous-chef told me that something was wrong with my face, then later told me to get more sleep.  I'm agreeing with him, as I could really feel my body somewhat giving up on me with only six hours of sleep per day.  Hypocrite I am though for not getting more sleep right now as I type this blog.

2. Random analogy that I came up while driving today:  Counting down days to any specific event that anyone is waiting for is like staring and/or wanting to touch a random, pretty stranger's boob.  Think about it:  it's okay to think about them, but if you touch them, you're screwed.  Lurking Variables not included.

3. I keep thinking it's Friday.  A lot of people are getting shitfaced tonight because of St. Patty's day.  I would keep a tally of who doesn't show up to work tomorrow because of the after-effect of this said holiday, but all the cooks that I work with are Mexicans who have no clue what the holiday is about, so that cancels that.

4. Watching a whole high school tennis game today was pretty exciting.  It came down to the last match, which Westchester won 4-3.  Still proud of these babies, and I must say that it motivates me to... hang out with people and play.  I've just been too shy about it, I guess.  But it's good to know that people want to genuinely hang out and just play.

5. Tomorrow ought to be fun.

I endorse Pandora Radio.  No, they're not paying me.

I've had to upload my iTunes as many times as I have had to recover my computer (four) and it's no fun.  I mean, downloading iTunes itself without music is already time consuming, and trying to figure out what songs I should get is even more of a hassle than it is.

With Pandora however, I just put whatever I want to listen to, and it plays it for me.  And while I write this blog, I'm hearing/experiencing more songs that I have ever had in my thirteen years of living (Yes, I did discover the magic of music when I got in the States).

I figured that with all the routine-laden activity that my life requires, I needed something random to throw it off, and it's just that.  

I concede to heartbreak.

I've been denying it a lot of times, restating it in many different ways possible, when in the end, it's only one thing and nothing else.

I've come to this conclusion thinking about how I was willing to do anything for this specific person, but I don't think I got anything that I expected back.

I could always say that I'm bitter, which I am, but there's no purpose in crying over spilled milk.

I just concede to it, so that this thought wouldn't bother me as much as it usually would.

That's all.

Winner At A Losing Game

After recovering some sense, I've finally made a decision about everything.

A week ago, my emotions decided that I wanted to have a shot at my second Sacramento as an Intern. My brother kept telling me to not do it and focus on what I have and what's ahead of me, but I didn't listen as I didn't have my grip on reality then.

As the deadline for the second year application is coming up, I have made my final decision.

I have decided that I will not come back, as much as Tom wants to see my application in his mailbox.

The reason why this is is that I believe that it will be very expensive for both my wallet and body, considering that the nearest airport in Poughkeepsie is at least seventy miles away, plus plane rides back and forth. Combining all those would nearly cost me two paychecks that I am earning now at minimum wage. Also it would really screw up my system adjusting to two time zones, along with the lack of sleep that comes with these conferences.

The other reason is perfectly stated by Former Colonel Pratt: He states that he avoided first years on purpose for the reason that if he knew us on a personal level this year, he would stay attached to the program and would not be able to leave. I feel the same as I've met an amazing group of people these last six months, and it would not be the same as half of the first years are gone, seventy five percent of the second years gone, and a hundred percent of the third years gone. It would be like taking 90 percent of my mise-en-place out for my Mardi Gras Special and replacing it with something else: While it is delicious, it's not the same nor it it is what I had intended to serve.

During our last half hour session, we went a half hour over. I told J.P that it was time to let them go. We gave them their cue, but they insisted that we stayed together for as long as time permits it. They didn't care. We talked about our experiences in our first Sacramentos over valentines day candy and took group pictures. In the end, we eventually had to go, hugged it out. My kids wished me good luck, and I told them that I was proud of their willingness to step up in terms of maturity and responsibility.

That moment alone reminded me of why I wanted to come back. That feeling of love from people four years my junior, wishing me luck in the future, wishing me to come back and it would not be the same for them without me in it.

I felt invincible, and that I was on top of the world.

If I were to come back, I would be a winner at a losing game as if I did come back as a second year, I would be trying to achieve or even top the memory of that stated above. I just could not see myself doing it.

In overall, I would like to thank the Intern Staff, the Interns themselves, as well as my forum kids. You guys were the silver lining during my six month wait prior to leaving to New York, and when I head out there in about two months or so, I am proud to say that there are at least sixty more people who I can turn to in times that I truly need it.

Anything I say after this is simply injustice. Therefore:

Seacrest, Out.

I mentioned on a Facebook status one day that making a blog regarding Sacramento now would be empty words.  At the time though, the hype did not hit me yet.

Times change.

One of my co-workers told me today that we had a meeting on Thursday.  I said I had to go to Sacramento.  She asked me if it was a vacation.  I replied saying "kinda-sorta".

Counting however many days off I have left aside, I'm worried about something else:  My forum kids not being prepared, me having to be responsible for them, or the overall experience of this Sacramento itself as it is totally different coming back as a first year intern.

*moment of silence*

After that, I really have nothing to say.  It's what my inner orator has in my mind all day while prepping, and good portions of it should come out during the friendship service, sans laptop.

Within ourselves lies a great orator.  However, once process of reciting our speeches is in action, we seem to hold back as we find flaws on our voice whether it is an accent, twang, break or any other deficiency mentioned.

Orators in the sense of the word are people who harmonizes a thousand words together and make it a masterpiece to be remembered.  As mentioned above, we all have the ability to do it as some show it classically, while some do it uniquely.

Therefore, what is the purpose of this post?  To rant?  

I really don't know.  It's simply one of those nights where eloquence flows like a river, possibly smooth and serene to the reader...

It's good to have one of those nights.

Go Big, or Go Home.

Here I am sitting late at night watching an Andy Roddick match, while reading a witty blog the other. It's not that I can't sleep, it's that I'm a very determined fan to see this match whole. No replays, no online results, just awaiting a full on satisfaction of a comeback victory or the disappointment of a heartbreak.

Coming into work today, I felt somewhat confident watching Hell's Kitchen and Worst Cooks in America having that aura of confidence telling myself that I couldn't be that bad even if I tried. I think that mantra only works for Worst Cooks because I've only worked in a kitchen for six months and a couple of weeks. Simply saying, I wouldn't last a minute of a rush hour in Hell's kitchen because of my lack of experience.

There, I admit it.

As my horoscope stated, today was really busy. I swear, these horoscopes are eerily correct, and I might just make another blog out of it.

Psych. Marching on...

I prep for today. It goes normally, couple chocolate milk and bathroom breaks in between, that's it. I was busy enough that I didn't have the time to screw around.

Going into service, I knew I was somewhat undersupplied. Tickets came in, I coasted until I under-portioned two plates, with one getting sent back (If you work in the business, getting a plate sent back will piss you off in a million ways, especially if you're trying to scrap through a line of ticket). Because of this, I am happy to say that I finally got reprimaned for small portioning since I've always had the thought of these customers are getting really bad portions for a high price tag.

It just confirms the mantra of...

(see title)

There are some things that are out of my control. Do I hate it?

Absolutely.

Can I do something about it?

Yes and No. Here's why.

I hate things that I can't control, and time is one of them. I feel like every time is something due these days, I have to act on it fast, or else I'm going to get beat. And in the world that we live in today, I can't get beat especially if it's one of the spots in the best culinary school there is.

There's only so much I can do to pass time: Sleep, play three games of Madden, play guitar, jam to Stevie Wonder, and so forth. Until then, I'm rendered powerless, and I'm thinking that I'm getting beat because the seemingly fast hare (me) fell asleep under a tree, and the tortoise (time, seemingly slow) beats me to the end because it never stopped ticking.

I'm definitely going to be distracted at work tomorrow, but it should give me some good nerves considering that I might work under a fast pace with said anxiety, but it can only get me so far until the end of my shift.

Two tasks, all doable, but time sensitive.

Still doable.

Believe.

Nothing screams a New Year better than resolutions being made along with the sound of fireworks in the sky and kisses all around the world.

I don't know why it took so long to name this blog something less scrappier than Buckets of Balls. I feel like a cook (give me maybe five years for that Chef title) who has so many ideas that all of it just falls out because I can't settle for something without having a commitment problem attached to it.

With Bob 2 coming up, and my computer once again recovered (losing some precious BOB 1 footage of Mia ass-mopping the floor and a whole line of interns spelling "We Love Pratt" for being "late"), It's telling me two things.

1. It's the start of something new
2. It's time to get a back-up hard drive.

I would like to say that I did not come up with the title of Brilliant Moments. Rather, it is the lovely Mia Cheeseman who did. (A little shoutout doesn't hurt at times)

A brilliant moment in Camp Roberts terms does not live up to it's name. Or maybe it does in an opposite way since these BM's(or the lightbulb stuffed bag) are handed out to people who do stupid things. For instance, not knowing the difference between BOB1 and BOB2 is(I think that was Sunny?).

All the stories from Camp Roberts aside, Brilliant moments happen to our lives though they don't come in the prettiest forms possible. Good comedy can be brilliant, though at times it comes at the expense of embarrassment but it just shows that we're all human.

Basically, a good portion of our moments are brilliant despite some dull spots in them through daily routine work such as school or a job, but these moments we treasure, because these are ones that exposes our personality and vulnerability to life.

Happy reading, and please keep a light on while reading. Unless, you'll go blind.

Crikey, a politician!

I was in church two weeks ago. Let it be known to people that I don't like going to church. To me, it is only an obligation to go for exchange of certain privileges that I am enjoying today. But that's another blog. Going back to my point, I went to church two weeks ago and heard this "joke". Please read and put your two cents in.

----

A preacher once wanted to see what direction his son was headed for. To find out, he decided to put four items on the table that represents a career: A bible (preacher), a dollar coin (businessman), a bottle of whiskey (drunkard) and a sports illustrated swimsuit edition magazine (skirtchasing bum). When the son got home (note that the preacher is spying), He picked up the bible, flipped the coin and put it on his pocket, took a swig of whiskey and went through pages of Sports Illustrated happily, and left the room. The preacher then realized that his son was going to be a politician.

There is something I hate about premeditated speeches.

Sometimes, we could hear our inner orator speaking out to the masses of brain cells in our head, but when it's time to put the idea into paper (or blog, in my case), it falls out faster than a failed souffle.

This theory above is applicable to anybody. Yes, even the shyest among this world have an inner orator among them, though they are too shy to express their ideas, or what they have to say.

While the words of the inner orator make sense during that time, they are sometimes chunks of thoughts, that when carefully assembled together makes a masterpiece of a speech or a piece of literature.

I am not saying that having chunks of thoughts are bad. Harry Potter was a chunk of thought that turned out to be a billion dollar empire by J.K Rowling. You don't believe me? Go watch the special features in the Harry Potter DVD.

Back to premeditated or practised speeches, I had an experience like this during graduation last year (I finally can say that, instead of technically speaking). I read my speech so many times to the crowd that it lost it's authenticity, it's value, that even if I read it to the public, my "class"-mates would simply think that it's another delay to the charade of moving on with their lives. It's as if I was playing in a football game, and my coach told me to not call any audibles in the line of scrimmage.

It sucks.

Most pieces of literature can be somewhat compared to Horcruxes: It is a fragment of their soul that leaves their stamp in the world, and the only way to get rid of them is to ruin the memory of it, or destroy every "horcrux" in existence.

In short, never mess with words.

Happy New Year

I have at least fifty minutes to finish my blog for the first day of the New Year, so here goes.

______

I'm finally starting the New Year by closing out the final moments of what it was a strenuous life. I've dealt with too many life-changing moments this past year, from winning a scholarship, graduating, having to emotionally deal with being behind while my friends are enjoying college, and so forth.

Despite these challenges however, I have gotten back a good compensation for these challenges: A legitimate experience at a workplace decorum, being a Youth and Government intern, and actually carrying my own weight where I feel like I don't have to ask my parents anymore for money if I wanted something material like a videogame, or a shirt.

Materialism aside, I really would want to put my resolutions in here, but much like my failed PreBOB project, it failed. Maybe except one for I have gotten a legit camera this christmas. But besides that, I think I gained weight and I only know three chords on a guitar, but I have no ability to play a song or two...

While I don't want to start off the New Year on a negative note, I'll fire anyway because I would like to believe that I've built up a stronger mentality progressively year after year, if I couldn't notice it on a day to day basis.

1. I'm sick again.
2. I'm broke.

But they're fixable, so who gives a shit.

But yes, Happy New Year to me, because I really ran out of sentimental/meaningful material to provide.