Perfect for a Rainy Day

The rainy season has made a comeback in this side of the world. And while citizens from the Americas are still soaking up the sun in their little bikinis, we're trudging through rain soaked (or flooded) streets to get to work or school. I think all of us are hoping that the storms that are about to pass through are nothing like Typhoon Ondoy. That's an experience we'd rather be without.

But let's not dwell on the dreary aspects of the rainy season. Rain clouds are dreary enough for all of us. Instead, let's talk about something that I find cheers everybody up whenever it's brought up: food!

Rainy days usually remind me of one thing: Champorado. Watching the heavy downpour from the window and hearing the quick rush of the wind through the trees always makes me think of how rainy days were back where I grew up. It's grown to be my kind of comfort food. It's the food I can't help remembering during cold days when the sky is grey and there's nothing else to do but wait for the rain to pass.

Champorado, according to the not-all-that-reliable Wikipedia, is a chocolate rice porridge. It's warm, it's chocolatey, it's gooey, and it's delicious. With a dash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar mixed in, my taste buds are ready to rock and roll.

Best eaten with Tuyo, in my opinion. There's something about the contrasting flavors of the sweet chocolate and the salty dried fish that just seem to go together, I really can't explain it. I have a special way of eating this combo, too. Developed through years of practice, of course. A lot of people have their own methods of partaking of this delectable treat, but I think mine is the best. And it comes in three easy steps!

Step 1. Scrape off the scales of the Tuyo and pick apart into little bits.

Step 2. Drop the little pieces into the Champorado.

Step 3. Mix the Champorado and watch the little pieces disappear. 

And eat! The eating becomes more exciting because you never really know if you've gotten a bite of Tuyo until you've tasted the salty surprise. Awesome, right? 

Champorado is awesome all on its own, but what makes it such an amazing snack for me is the warm, fuzzy feeling it brings with every bowl. 

How about you? What's your favorite comfort food?

Q&A a day

One of my better impulse buys, I think. Fully Booked is proving to be one of those dangerous places for the wallet. Well, at least for me.

Anyway, I bought this Q&A a day 5-year journal today and I'd like to think it was destiny, me finding this little treasure of a journal, because I knew I wanted it the moment my eyes clapped onto it. This journal can be completely filled up in a span of 5 years. How, you might ask? Each day features a unique question that you can answer. There are five blank spaces where you can write your answers for that particular question. Five blank spaces for one question a year. Bam! A 5-year journal.

It's an amazing concept, really. You can literally see the changes in the way you think or react by the answers you write. Just imagine, as the years go by, you can see how your answer to the same question transforms (or not) from one year to the next. Pretty cool, huh? I'm a healthy mix of excitement and apprehension over the questions that could be asked. I'm trying not to look at the questions so I can answer them truthfully on the proper day. Yes, I'm taking this seriously.

Check it out and see if it intrigues you as it did me. :)

How I'd Live If I Lived Alone

I've never had an opportunity to truly live by myself. My parents have made living at home far too comfortable that I never really had a need to live away from home for more than weeks at a time. The only time I did live away from home was during college and I was under the eyes of my mother's sister, who lived near my school. I take that back, my sister and I lived at my aunt's so I don't think that counts as "living alone" since I was with my sister. But anyway, sister or no sister, those years were fun. It was in those years of living with my aunt for most of my schooling that I felt the freedom of being able to go out and not have someone asking what time I'd be home and of being able to do some things the way I wanted to. I guess that's why I always seem to be thinking about living alone. I miss that little freedom that I felt when I went to college. I figured, if I felt that way under adult supervision, how much more if I really was living all by myself? So here are the things I imagine I'd be doing if I lived alone. Cue harp music, blur, pan up to the heavens…and go.


I’d be a great cook. Here's the scenario. I have a few friends over in my apartment for a semi-regular movie night. While they're poring over a movie, I'd be in my little kitchen cooking up something delicious that they'd all be raving about once they've tasted the first bite. Beyond the semi-regular movie night, I'd be cooking meals for myself and for anyone who visits me and I would love it. I'd cook bacon and eggs and French toast for breakfast, and learn how to make lasagna (my childhood favorite) and sinigang and kare-kare, and practice baking cookies and brownies and pies for dessert. I'd have a growing collection of recipes and though it would be a struggle to learn how to cook by myself, I'd be surprised and delighted to find that I am actually succeeding. But if that doesn't happen, I could always live on instant pancit canton and Ramen noodles. Oh, and Ma Ling. 

My dinner guests will be like Dora's backpack. 

Omnomnomnomnom. Delicioso!

I'd sit in the living room with utility bills and a calculator. Because I'm not good at math, I'll probably be spending an hour or two of my weekend figuring out how to adjust my budget to accommodate the rent, food, electricity, water, internet, and all kinds of bills. I'd also contemplate on getting a part-time job so I could afford to buy stuff that I want, like shoes or the occasional electronic device and plane tickets.

I would definitely be making emergency runs to the grocery because I keep forgetting to keep track of the food in the fridge. Or the toilet paper. Or shampoo when shampoo bubbles just won't do (putting water in the bottle more than twice will only yield slightly soapy water, I know that for a fact!) and other important items in a home that one absolutely cannot live without. These grocery runs will happen regularly because I have yet to master the art of inventory.

I'd be scared out of my wits due to the fact that I am living alone. There will be nights when I will suddenly realize that I am a sitting duck, completely vulnerable to dangers both internal and external. I will worry about robbers, rapists, murderers, swindlers, ghosts, bangungot, accidents, and other situations that cannot be dealt with alone. What if I choke on my own deliciously baked lasagna/pancit canton? Can you do a Heimlich maneuver on yourself? To somehow make me feel like I've found a remedy to this problem, I'd probably buy myself a cute puppy to act as my playmate/companion/guard puppy.

Hello, emo puppy. Would you like to live with me? 

I'd prefer the apartment to be like the homes of the Koreans I see on TV, where everything is near the floor which, more often than not, is spic and span. I'd keep a tiny broom and dustpan handy to keep my space as tidy as I can. Wait, who am I kidding here? I live in creative chaos. Rewind. I'd keep a tiny broom and dustpan handy so I can keep the space from being too...unruly. I'd also have a desk where my laptop and all other hobby things are stationed. The closet, however, is an entirely different story.

I'd ask someone carry a spare key on their person at all times in case of emergencies. Someone I know who would be there if I found myself locked out of my own place. Probably my sister because it's impossible for me not to even consider her. If I had a boyfriend, I'd probably ask him to do that, too. The bottom line is that there will be times when I will be locked out of my own home even though I know that that's a stupid thing to do. I need people to look beyond the stupidity and just help me out when I need it.

I'd keep beer in the fridge. You never know when you'll need 'em, really. In good times or in bad, there's always a reason to chug down a chilly can of beer. YES.

Golden gift from God! Get in my belly! 

I'd probably walk around in my underwear. Because I can. I don't need to explain myself further. My place, my rules. Walang basagan ng trip, k?

I'd dream about the things I’d decorate my place with. There are already pictures of bookcases, chairs, utensils, hammocks, and desks that I've reblogged in my Tumblr account for future reference. At the rate I'm going, my apartment will probably be filled with objects and furniture that are unique and interesting on their own but have absolutely nothing to do with each other. I imagine that it will be an eclectic mix of cute little trinkets and I'd be perfectly happy with them. 

I'd be sad and miss the feeling of being comfortable at home where everything is free and everyone is familiar. But I will remember that there is a different kind of free that I yearn for and that will make me feel better until the next time I miss everything all over again.

Every family is a little messed up in one way or another. 

But they're still family. 

All of the things I mentioned are rather...idealistic, so I don't really expect that living on my own will turn out the way I'd just described it. I probably sound like a teenager, don't I? Gushing about living on my own when some people would much rather live with their families. Most people probably think that I don't need to live away from home to be able to do some of the things I just described. And they're right, I don't have to. I guess the defining factor between doing these things at home and away from home is that I'd be dealing with everything by myself, and that I have no choice but to deal with things by myself. That thought alone is daunting, especially for a bunso like me who's always had kuyas and an ate to call when things got tough. But there's no harm in imagining a life where I'm self sufficient and strong, right? There's really no harm in day dreaming.

How To Induce a Quarter Life Crisis*

Step 1.

Log in to Facebook or any social media site that allows a person to present chosen aspects of their lives to the world.

Step 2.

Scroll through all the updates your Facebook friends post. Notice one long lost Facebook-friend -you've-never-contacted-before's photos showing him or her delivering babies or climbing the top of the country's highest mountain or posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Step 3.

Be amazed at what he or she has accomplished. Proceed to look through his or her Facebook timeline and photo albums. Kids nowadays call this “stalking.”

Step 4.

Take eyes of your computer monitor and look around you. Take in the contrast between your life and his or her life. Feel the insecurity creep in.

Step 5.

Start to panic and question what you've been doing for the past few years since you've been out of college. You've been to college! What are you doing with your life?! Why are you not delivering babies (or having babies, even!) or climbing a mountain or posing in front of the Eiffel Tower?! You could do all of that, why aren't you?!

PHOTO TAKEN FROM HERE. 

Step 6.

Begin to feel sorry for yourself and your lack of success and cluelessness about where you're going in life. Start to forget about all the things you have accomplished. Start hating your house, your relationships, your stifling work cubicle, your lame-ass future travel plans because you know that these will never amount to anything compared to what they have. Whoever they are. 

Step 7.

Mope for a few days. Start thinking about what you want to do differently and vow to make changes in your life from this day onwards. Or get distracted by life’s other problems (like work, rent, utility bills, groceries, family, your Tumblr addiction, the list goes on and on…) until the next panic-inducing Facebook visit.

Step 8.

Repeat Steps 1 through 7. 

*Quarter Life Crisis may be induced through other means as well, such as meditation, reflection and living through daily activities that do not satisfy you personally or professionally. 

What To Do When You Miss Someone

It hits you like the school bus hit Regina George on Mean Girls. It’s quick, it’s unexpected, but it gets the job done. That is, to shake things up a bit. It could happen on a quiet morning as you read the newspaper or on a dim, rainy afternoon. It could happen while you’re reveling the view on the highest peak, literally feeling like the ruler of the world or while you're puking your guts out on a sidewalk somewhere because you drank too much again. You could be at your best or at your worst. Either way, your brain doesn't choose when you'll think, ''I wish s/he were here right now.'' But you realize that they're not, so for a minute or two your heart sinks a little knowing that some people are just not going to be there at a snap of a finger or a press of a button. So there you are, in the middle of a work day, a party, or all alone browsing through your Facebook, sideswiped by nostalgia and you don't know what to do with it.

Missing people is not a very pleasant experience. I'm not talking about how you’d write 'I miss you! LOL!'' on someone's Facebook timeline because you haven't seen each other in months. I mean it as a time when you really miss a person who's been a huge part of your life and they're not anymore. It's when you miss a person because of who they are and what they mean to you; that kind of missing. 

If there was a way to describe it, I'd say that it's a bit like having some part of you tugged incessantly at periods at a time that can't be easily shaken off. It’s like that leak on the ceiling that you always forget to fix until it’s already raining and a puddle of water is on the floor. It's kind of like that. And it is when you feel the pangs of longing to be in the company of someone that you entertain the possibility that maybe you've always been missing them and that a single word, laugh, quirk or slip of the tongue was all it took to feel everything. You'd think, why bother missing them when you could just go out and see them? Well, sometimes it's not that easy. There are just some people that you can't/shouldn't just go out and see. These are the people that have left your life. Intentionally or not, it doesn’t really matter. And so, without the means to dispel the little ''itch'' to see or speak to someone, what does one do?  What do you do when you miss someone who passed away/left you/drifted away/moved away/stopped calling/unfriended/doesn't miss you?

I guess the best answer is to just give in to the feeling and miss them. There's no point in resisting the urge to feel sad about someone when it'll just end up coming back after x number of weeks/months/years. Think of it as a gift to that other person, him/her being in your thoughts and missing them. It's not fair, of course, that you give them much thought and it's not reciprocated, but there's really nothing you can do about that part. You miss who you miss regardless of whether or not they miss you back. You can cry about it, if you want. You can visit where they are, in vast lands of greenery and marble. If you're brave enough, you can call old friends who, for a while, became people who knew everything about you to catch up on old times. Or you can simply say the three words without audience and hope that the winds take them across cities, landscapes, seas and maybe even beyond the clouds to send the message to its intended recipients.

Breathe in.

I miss you.

Breathe out.

Back to the real world.

Why Being Cup Size A is A-Okay

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for me to feel a teensy-weensy bit jealous of a curvy girl when I see one because of one main thing: boobs. No, I don’t want them in the way hot-blooded men want breasts. I actually want to have them. Because I have none.

I’ve spend many years feeling frustrated because my so-called “normal body parts” never seemed to fully arrive while all the other girls’ did and more. Imagine being a teenager and  unable to properly fill out your clothes the way you want them to! It’s a tragedy! Sadly, my signs of fertility and womanhood were small signs, and they remain to be small to this day. It actually makes me want to chant “I must, I must increase my bust!” while doing the exercise my mother taught me right now. Unfortunately, the die is cast. But instead of griping about my lack of, uh, lady lumps every time I look at the mirror (I keep it down to a few times every few months now), I’ve decided to practice a little act of self-love and embrace my little girls by thinking of reasons why being a cup size A isn’t so bad. Surprisingly, there were a lot more than I thought, which is a good thing.

BRALESS UNLIMITED! For small girls, you can easily skip out on wearing a bra and, more likely than not, people wouldn’t notice. Who cares if you’re without a bra while wearing that sundress? Being small in the boob department gives you that freedom without looking like you have sandbags going wild inside your shirt as you walk.

RUN LIKE THE WIND. Nope, no dead weight bouncing around and holding you down. As the rules of physics state, “What goes up must come down.” Since there’s not much going up…you get the picture. In fact, wasn’t it said that the heavier the object, the quicker the fall? Ouch! So sprint on, sister! Plus, movement is free! Perfect for kitikiti me!

HUNCHBACK OF NONE-TRE DAME. One perk of being small is a strain-free back. With your rack weighing next to nothing compared to all the other girls, you can go about your daily life never knowing the pains of a back carrying heavy weight. Having big boobs is like being a turtle, only reverse. And you don’t live in your boobs.

FASHION FREEDOM. The good thing about being on the smaller side is that you can wear practically anything and not look like you’ve stepped out of a Playboy centerfold. Unless, you know, that’s what you’re aiming for. But anyway, low cut shirts make a snug home for your girls as opposed to double D’s that look like they want to jump out of a chokehold and scream a la William Wallace in Braveheart. “Freedooooom!”

THE APPLES DON’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE. The apples being your boobs and the tree being your body. Just to be clear on the analogy. Right. Yay for minimal boob saggage (yay for making up words)! Unlike our gifted sisters, your boobs won’t slowly migrate to the equator when the time for retirement comes around, which means that you have slim to none chances of throwing your breasts over your shoulder when you become a lovable lola. I might be exaggerating just a bit. But it could happen, just saying.

MY EYES ARE ON MY FACE. Like, for real. When people talk to me, their eyes will be on my eyes instead of sinking to my chest because, guess what? I don’t really have one! Girls like me won’t have to experience the whole clichéd “Boy, my eyes are up here” moment, which can be read by some women as rude and objectifying. I’d say that in my case, if they were looking down there intently, they might just be trying to locate where my boobs are. Like hidden treasure! Ooooh.

The point, sisters in booblessness, is that belonging to the smallest cup size in the lingerie department isn’t all that bad. You won’t think that when you watch the Victoria’s Secret fashion show when leggy models sport cleavages that are popped up to the maximum and look like goddesses, of course. (How can they be that skinny and have big boobs, anyway?) But the rest of the time, try to remember the benefits of having your pair smaller than the rest. It will do you some good. Not to mention save you from getting an expensive boob job that you may or may not regret.

Stay proud. Stay perky. Because your boobs will. 

Hola