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.

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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.