An ABC Away

An easy, lighter post. No fancy-shamncy emotionally perplexing words here. This is just a fun, getting-to-know-myself post. Okay. Here we go!

(A) Age: 7 years of bratty, snot-covered, fat-and-sugar diet years, 12 years of less brattiness, snot-free, yet still immersed in with the same diet, a year of yoyo moods and a combination of everything else. 20 years total. FACT: I am now a lover of nature's rainbow. I have fully come to love the freshness and miracles of nature in its natural state: that is fruits and veggies to you, junk foodies out there. Don't you worry. Those peanutbutter cups shall never be neglected!

(B) Bed Size: Queen Size. With two royalties sleeping on it.

(C) Chore You Hate: Worrying. UGH. Such a chore. It is the worst of them all.

(D) Dogs? I adore them. Wish I could own one. A big dog. A black Labrador! I shall name him Jack.

(E) Essential Start Your Day Item: FOOD. Within 5 minutes or less of waking up.

(F) Favorite Color: Orange. To wear? Black, white and gray. With a pop of color.

(G) Greens? Like what I said, I couldn't get enough of them. For about 6 months now, they've become my best friend. I literally have to have something green in every meal. (That's up to 6-8 meals a day) Though quite frankly, I can never be a vegetarian. The vegan or whatever meat-free diet is just not for me. This girl has to have her meat and cheese. And again, just so we're clear, some junkfood just can't be obsolete. Balance is the key. 70% what your body needs, the other 30% can be what YOU need. Emergency cases are an exception of course. Yes. Those are THE days.

(H) Height: 5' 5"

(I) Instruments You Play: The spatula, baby!

(J) Job Title: An unemployed, struggling culinary artist-artist

(K) Kids? Sure. In about a decade.

(L) Live: A humbly, estrogen-oozing, single-womanly run home. (by my mega mothaa)

(M) Marriage? The beginning of my happily ever after.

(N) Nicknames: Rose, Rosey (there are a handful of people who could pull off calling me Rosey. And when they do, it's one of the sweetest sounds), and Abba (short for TABA-meaning fat in Tagalog. Only a family member calls me this.) Why yes internet. I am innately and perpetually a fatty. But remember, balance, balance, BALANCE

(O) Overnight Hospital Stays? Yes. 2 weeks when I had dengue. I was quite the sickbug. That's why I kept losing weight. Regular colds and flu would last weeks with me. Unfortunately until now, I am 20 years old and I still get sick quite often. My mom says I naturally have a weak body. It's quite upsetting actually. That's why I'm always hungry. (the literal kind) It's my body's way of coping I guess. This is the main reason why I am fully committed to this new leaf. The balance thing is going great so far. Hopefully no more sick days for me. Anyway. Let's go back to these questions, shall we?

(P) Pet Peeve: Liars and assholes. A combination is catastrophic.

(Q) Quote from a Movie: Oh. Couldn't think of one right now. I wouldn't want to simply search for one. Mmmmm. How about from a book instead? "I love you everyday, now all I can do is miss you every day." It's from For One More Day by Mitch Albom. It's imprinted in my head ever since.

(R) Right or Left Handed? Lefty.

(S) Siblings: An older sister. She's a junkfoodie too! A harder one to steer, though. But.... challenge accepted!

(T) Time You Wake Up? Depends. All I know is I get cranky when I sleep less than 8 full hours. Which means I am a pain in the ass on most mornings.

(U) Underwear: How am I supposed to answer this? Uh. Yes? I wear one everyday.

(V) Vegetable You Dislike: I don't dislike any vegetable at all. I have learned to love them. Really. Which is good. And that includes bitter, slimy veggies. They are my pals now. Huraaah huraaaah

(W) What Makes You Laugh: Mmmm. You can't really pin point exact moments of jovial outbursts. All I know is my genuine laughing-my-panties-off, on-the-verge-of-peeing-a-little laughs are simply priceless.

(X) X-tra Large? Softdrinks? No. I have cut that out of my system for about a year now. Rehabilitated and proud of it! But everything else that I truly, truly like has to supersized. Or else I'll end up getting seconds. But yet again, BALANCE

(Y) Yummy Food You Make: EVERYTHING! *taps on the back* Kidding. Well at least I try to. My motto is to cook with all the senses you have. That entails how it will smell, look, taste, and feel on the tongue. The cacophonous sizzles in the pan takes care of the sound. Of course, the laughs around the table shall complete your masterpiece. Cooking with the heart always comes through your food. It's like you are sharing a piece of you for them to take in (literally). They may not remember all the random conversations you've had that day. But the one's who were able to genuinely enjoy the gems of your labor shall have that within them for the rest of their lives. (And yes, even after going to the bathroom)

(Z) Zoo, Favorite Animal: Sharks and Dolphins. Have seen them only once at the Manila Ocean Park. And I fell inlove. They are misunderstood, magical kings of the sea.

This was fun! I'd like to do one purely about food.
TAG! You're it! Comment and try it.
Have a great one, YOU!

https://twitter.com/HungryRosey

(A) Age: (B) Bed Size: (C) Chore You Hate: (D) Dogs? (E) Essential Start Your Day Item: (F) Favorite Color: (G) Greens? (H) Height: (I) Instruments You Play: (J) Job Title: (K) Kids? (L) Live: (M) Marriage? (N) Nicknames: (O) Overnight Hospital Stays? (P) Pet Peeve: (Q) Quote from a Movie (R) Right or Left Handed? (S) Siblings: (T) Time You Wake Up? (U) Underwear: (V) Vegetable You Dislike: (W) What Makes You Laugh? (X) X-tra Large? (Z) Zoo, Favorite Animal:

Breathing... and HUNGRY.

Why hello there, Internet. It's me. Your fist-gripping, annoyingly credulous ghost-like virtual friend.

Do you know that feeling where there are gazillion trillion things, feelings and words you want to release and scream? But when you do open your mouth, nothing comes out. Zilche. It is that untrappable feeling where all you seem to hear are chirping birds and tight held up breaths. So.... Let's just skip all awkward shenanigans and just jump right in to it. Shall we?

I just finished reading ALL my posts. Posts that can be miraculously summed up into two teeth-grinders that happen to both begin with two dreaded A's-- ANGST and ANGER. I panicked. I was apprehensive and chafed. And I will beat you to it by saying that it was verily quite a ride. I can tell you right this weary moment that it is not one of those theme park adrenaline-pumping rides we all line half of an entire day for. It is the overbearingly existing kind, an amateurishly composed script for a rejected movie about a hormonally unstable girl that at the beginning had her heart pulverized into unsightly micro pieces of dust, and then with the fast-pace nature of life, by moving on she realized that in her mischievous subconscious, what she desperately seek for is paternal-love. From there on, a loop-DE-loop of shitholes had emerged. That somehow, in the semi-distorted position she is in now, she has managed to dodge all these and maintain the perpetual state of whatever it is that she is in. (Which is yet to be found out) Confusing, I know.

Well. I guess it is finally safe to say that I am breathing again. Almost full inhales of oxygenous, smoggy and semi-herbaceous air. My nostrils couldn't be more thrilled. Lungs flaring with excitement. Taste buds curious and are refusing to settle for the mundane. People who know me can tell you that I am quite the eater. I was greedy for grease. Too greasy for green. And too green for solemnity. But this appetite has evolved into something different entirely. Though butterfingers, peanut butter cups and cheetos are still occasional, alleviating flings. But what I want now is something bigger, not in quantity but bona fide, unadulterated quality- the world. The world and its entire greatness. The sensations of life without its limits. And I'm ready for that now. I am all set, and well... hungry.

Now I pledge to you my precious, precious reader: I, Hungry Rosey, a self-propagating catalyst to an expedition to true supremely transcending greatness (superlative overload), my cheapo 10-inch knife on one hand, utensils on the other, shall delve, smell, taste, touch and experience the very essence of God's magnum opus-- life.

Let's go! Melodic burps await!

http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

Cake!!

Maaaan. That was some previous post, wasn't it? I had to catch my breath while I was reading it. Now how the hell did I manage to be both mean and pitied at the same time?

This moment of my existence has got to be written off history. A vastly brutal phase emerging from the grounds of who-knows-what. Who knew an almost twenty-year-old lunatic would have the strength and dexterity to grasp all of these stricken at her with an embossed dignity? To tell you honestly, I had barely wrapped a finger on the situation, Internet. But, I attacked it head on.

Perhaps all of it was too much. Too heavily brought. Too unbearably real.

I wanted to post as much as I possible could. My art. My food. All the things that drives my being. Not just the I-hate-world part. Fighting all hurdles isn't what life's about, my dear Internet. It's what we're fighting for that makes life worth living.

My birthday's coming. Who wants cake?!

She's Alive!!!

Yep.. It's official. I am verily the most unstably stable person alive (Why yes Internet, I believe this is yet another paradoxical statement). Sorry to say, but the facts must and shall be blurted out with all hard on conviction. An adamantly embossed label might as well be zapped right in the middle of my forehead saying "Beware: ridiculously too fickle to fiddle".

I can now understand how the perks and chirps inside this head are wound up. Little cracks and twists here and there. Not exactly an impervious labyrinth to get lost in, but actually really quite close. You see.. Any normal human being couldn't truly, even inside different realms tested, would be able to decipher the rather absurd complexities I have. These what may seem to be absurdity now, are the very things that mold me to who I am. It's what makes us who we are, who we'll be.

So instead of isolating myself from this world, even from all its cruelties, I should learn to face it with my head held up, handsfree. Defense mechanism off, no masochistic ammunitions in hand whatsoever. I must slowly peel off the armor I built. Learn to trust and feel. LIVE.


Life is testing me. It's testing my families' capability of surviving this fucked up event. Myself as a daughter, even as one struggling individual. Something this big should have been taken care of a lot sooner, a lot quicker. It had almost devoured all of us completely, unnoticed. I am really scared. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough. Strong enough for the three of us. Help us dear God. Help me for my family. I forgive mama. I cannot even imagine hating her. She's my everything. Cliche as it may sound. But I would die for her, right here, right this second.

I love you, ma. So for now... What's for dinner?

The Walking Dead

Is it possible to feel both the anguishes of pain and the numbness of the cold at the same time? They say that the cold numbs you. It tricks every single vein into transporting the signals of pain straight to our credulous minds and then sends it out through the nostrils instead. A sort of deranged yet still an entertaining way of looking at it, right? Though despite all my efforts in rationalizing these in my quirky ways, it still hurts. Burns and fades the numbness' miracles.

I had no idea the coldest could ever be colder. I am not talking about some lover's love here, Internet. I have been clear to have been over that. Though it still exists, I can no longer pretend and mock you guys with the bigger issue, the entire picture.

I have a father. A living, breathing biological "papa". Though what seems to be perfectly "normal" to me turns out to be a helluva lie. I was entrapped by crudeness, the warmth that was deprived from me. I was lurking in a jacked up fairytale I creatively made up inside this humongously callow head. It could have been either an accidental feat or a humored coincidence. Who's to decide?

I cannot bring my self to lay down each and every word, the unfortunate truths.  You may think I am some strong weirdo for carrying all these right above my bruised shoulders. You are dead wrong. I'm weak. Unyielding but vulnerable. I keep everything in. Not giving any shit about the possibility of exploding. The dilatory fact that I will eventually burst into sad, insignificant particles carelessly diffusing in the air.

Make my heart beat. Convince me that I am in fact, breathing and, well... Alive.

FOODGASM

Have you ever doubted yourself? Yeah I know, I know. What a moronic question, right? Obviously. In this damned universe where nobody is ever good enough to be something... (apologies for the sudden apprehensive bitching) We ALL do. Every single day, maybe even every minute, perhaps even per nano second. Why do we have to be so hard on ourselves? And let me tell you Internet, torture-filled, pure agony HARD. Why cause such pain to ourselves then? Why of all people, we ourselves bring us all these fucking pain?


I would like to think that I am gifted with the amazingly cliche power of clairvoyance. Or I pressume something like that. I can see the future. A blurry sight but somehow a clear view in my own way. Or may I pressume again... I can freely choose to see the things that I want to see. Quite frankly, too fucking much of it. I know who I am. I have known every microscopic root and reason of my still occuring evolution since the day I was yanked out of my mother's belly (I believe my mother's womb is the safest place on earth and the beyond which made me not want to leave that perfectly cushioned cage of muscle and tissue). Heck all the causes and the unmistakable conciliatory effects of my existence. I know what I want to be. Though despite this egotistic perspective, what truly is behind and what is efforlessly hidden is a scardey-ass that obsesses in pleasing everybody else rather than herself.


What do I really want? What am I yearning for? Freedom?? Happiness?? Oh good Lord, how I pray for such unreachable things. I am stuck. Boxed in the sharp unfathomable corners of a god-forsaken place masked with an ingenuously deceiving term, a "classroom". *Deep breath*

I want to be more. Learn more. See more. FEEL MORE. I had become as numb as a botox-battered temple. I am astonishingly getting in the hang of fooling the people around me with cracked smiles that I can't help but shiver from my own fear of luring myself in it too. I am a good person. I can attest that with all the remaining debris of my heart. Or atleast I always try to be. In every single way, form and every possible thought of any saint wannabe. I don't belong there. I really don't.


Now the gazillion trillion million dollar question is.... What the hell am I going to do with my life? I graduated highschool with honors. Won chess tournaments across districts like a barbie cloaked hustler. Became bestfriends with mathematics. Gained diamond worthy friends. And now, the reflection I see is a sullen shadow, barely making an image, in her third year of college, exuding a constipated confusion-infused look, not even knowing how or for even how fucking long she has been cold and lifeless, she wants nothing else but to be alone and do absolutely nothing, in translation, just allow herself to rot until she transforms into plain old house-dust and waits to be sucked into a 10000 peso vacuum. Yep. The Ultimately Pathetic Filipino-Chinese Dream.


Food is what drives me, it is what rattles my core. I know this sounds crazy but this is what I want, what I NEED. And I'm good at it. You can fucking bet I am! But I want to be better. Be my BEST. What the hell is so hard to understand?


I am now in my 3rd year of college, taking Entrepreneurship major in Culinary Arts. And so far, whatever it is that I learned in the past 2 years of my saturday classes that I've been taking (since in weekdays I do not have any other choice but be a regular student and study all those business stuff), I can absolutely learn in a couple of days of serious delving. (And I am being kind) AND FYI, I still have about 2 years left after my 1 year internship. Talk about wasting both MONEY AND MY PRECIOUS PRECIOUS TIME. Time that I feel like keeps on rapidly slipping away, without my conscious presence. Believe me, if I'd stay longer than this coming semester, oh god forbid I am going to slit my wrists with my own newly sharpened knives. AND another FYI, I figured out sharpening knives on my own!!!


To wrap things up, I am pretty sure of my plan in the next couple of months. And that is to pursue my long neglected passion. Escape from this suffocation of how-to-be-an-entrepreneur stuff. One more semester left and a year of internship to go, and this butterfly will soon be free. Cheers to future FOODGASM!

I will finish this semester, join the one-year internship abroad. And hopefully.. NO. Let me correct that. I will DO whatever it takes to be able to stay there, earn and train to be the real deal and make my mama proud!

First things first, I must clean my act up. Fix my clearance so I'd be able to enroll. Let some sunshine and the effects global warming hit my skin and somehow gain a social life, be a Van Gogh diciple again, start smarting up with culinary knowledge more, and who knows? Something might just pop up in some random polluted corner?


Man.... Do I feel better.. Thank you reader.. whoever you are.

I Missed Me Too

Did I serve the term missing-in-action even a tiny bit of justice? I believe so. Heck, I clearly do. Missed me? Well Internet, I did too-- I do. I fucking missed myself too. I missed having this opportunity of being able to channel all my bickering, bitching, ranting or whatever the hell you want to call this modern-savage way of releasing both the stress and the "distresses" of life- of this crookedly presented shenanigan people call life. Okay. I will say this now and never repeat it again. I will not even attempt to read my previous excruciatingly existing posts. No matter what I do or even try to wish for to disappear, no genie is powerful enough to make all the pain go away. Now I hope you guys aren't thinking my whole empty world simply revolves around this one memory. It is verily an undeniable occurrence of the realities of love but will only forever be a mere flake of my entire existence. A simple memory, and not the currently being written memoir. Now enough of this crazy broken-hearted fistful of tears and pain. To put an end to this post-melancholy fragment of my being, I would like to end it with this statement. Okay.

I had finally found love once, though lost it defenselessly. Now, if there is one thing this unfortunate event taught me, it would be that something as inestimable as love will always be worth hurting for, most especially when you know that in the end, you truly, soul-baringly loved and felt loved.

Now this is where my life truly begins.
Chapter 1. The Pulverized-hearted. The Paternal Love Seeking. The Loner. The Life's Purpose Bombarded Rose.


Watch out world. This cuckoo will make a helluva comeback!