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.

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.