Quick Decisions

With a few minutes to spare, I pondered what I could possibly write next. May is coming, and soon after it will be June and then summer will be upon us. I have a bajillion thoughts that could spawn into a better written and more thoughtful entry, stemming either from everyday occurances, recent discoveries and re-discoveries, or constant ponderings that continue to sprout as the cycle of life throws more and more experiences my way into a vast and complex web of feelings. I took a look at every post I had written prior to this one, and despite the ups and downs (namely the downs), I am happy with my progress.

I am also limited on time, and I miss the days where I could write more. For now, I will leave in hopes I can give myself more time to think and one day bust out another freakishly long and thought-provoking blog post that will clear my mind and make my few fellow readers go "Oooh!" Now I just have to make a choice as to what comes next. If only all decisions were as laid-back as this.

Prease Do Not Find Offensive

Last night, my subconscious invented powers of flight, super strength, invisibility, and shapeshifting (among other kick-A superpowers) that my male companion and I could use as we fought violent racist white supremacists.

My inspirations? Most likely massive consumptions of sugar, Disney movies, and Jimmy Wong:



I'm totally buying this song on iTunes. His Chinese food song is pretty awesome too.

I Heart Sundays

Maybe it was only a matter of time before this was bound to happen, but Sundays are starting to become my favorite day of the week. Close seconds would have to be either what becomes the designated Disneyland day, trek to the temple, institute indulgence, or an amalgam of all of the above (which has happened on a few occasions), and although Sundays do not contain any of these events, there is certainly something special about such a day. I am not sure I have appreciated Sunday for more than what it means to me now. It may have started as the time to sleep in, stay away from practice and exercise, spend three hours at church if not more. Aside from the sleeping in, this momentous day is still all of the same. Now, however, there is so much more to it. The major component of this is definitely the Spirit that has overwhelmed me each Sunday since I arrived here. How can such a simple change in location have such a BIG impact on one's own welfare? Well, as noted, another part of this can be attributed to this great area I now call home. It has reached a toasty 45 degrees tonight and it's hot here, proved by the fire alarm having just been set off. The people here are awesome and such a great example to me. They are amazing people who have taught me a lot and continue to help me grow and move forward with my life in several different ways. I know that I have been brought here for a reason, and if it was for nothing else but to find a place where I can be myself without question, concern, or judgment, I'm almost there. I don't know what will happen a week from today, how I may feel, where I will be, what I plan on doing, and I am nervous and excited for everything coming up. (Fortunately for me, the excitement is massively outweighing the nervousness.) One thing is for sure right now: I heart Sundays. Is this bound to change? Quite possibly, maybe in the next month, maybe in ten years, maybe sooner, maybe later, maybe never. But at the moment, it's simply delicious.

Childhood Reminiscents - Asian Edition

An amazing rediscovery has hit me in the last half hour. As I sat eating my reasonably sized portion of Rice-a-Roni, I was reminded of a delicious rice treat that I had mentioned only briefly in a previous post relating to haupia. This was one of my favorite treats to follow dinner, and one of the few foods that brewed in the kitchen that I actually enjoyed eating, which sadly I had been unable to enjoy after its recipe was immediately removed from our household once the upsetting totalitarian ways took over. With the sudden reminder of this nostalgic dessert, I promptly set aside my bowl of Rice-a-Roni and took my inquiry to Google. At the dinner table in what was once called "home", this yummy rice dish was referred to by name as "sticky rice", very original if you asked me. I made a Google search for those very words, but to no avail. The pictures and recipes that appeared were not what I had enjoyed as a child. Then I thought to type "sweet sticky rice", which thanks to Google's automatic typer, segued into a search for "Filipino sweet sticky rice", and sure enough my sweet sticky rice treat was restored to memory. It's called biko, and Google is littered with recipes which at some point I intend on indulging on when time, money, and health permits me.

It may seem insignificant, but this is actually quite a find for me. It is almost as epic as when I finally rediscovered Journey to the West last September. It's so much more intriguing watching it now too since I can understand more of what they're saying, and especially amusing when I notice that the English subtitles are wrong. I need to find a copy of this show on DVD somewhere.

Mother Goose, You Sly Gal

A nursery rhyme about children and the day of the week they were born on:


"Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living,
But the child that's born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay."


Is this a bad time for me to bring up that I was born on a Wednesday?

Milk, Munchies, Meandering, and Muppets in a Matter of Minutes

Our manager's 5-year old knocked on the door, to come in and hang out. He proceeded to climb on the couch and pace around the living room, and added by stating quite the observation: he like heaters because they're warm. I gave him a small glass of chocolate milk, but not without requesting those magic words that were most necessary to hear first. Mom and sister came by to collect him shortly after and he said his goodbye.

About five minutes later, he opened our door, came back inside, and rushed toward me with a napkin full of bits of what appear to be cookie crisp cereal. I thanked him and he turned around to rush back home.

Guys, take note. At age 5, this is adorable. At age 15, this is acceptable. At age 25, this is awkward. So if you want to send a special treat to a special lady, grab your little nephew, cousin, or that kid who lives across the street constantly asking to play baseball, and have him do the dirty work for you. On a side note: if you're hot enough, or if you know your lady well enough, but mostly if you're hot enough, you may do this yourself. Of course, it should be noted that no matter how hot you are, you may not be able to get away with turning her couch into a jungle gym, bringing your mom and sister to her house to pick you up, or barging into her bedroom without knocking first.

And now I'm going to enjoy my cookie crisp and a Christmas song:

There's Children Throwing Snowballs Instead of Throwing Heads

The lights are strung up. The tree is bought, assembled, and adorned. The hats, jackets, thick sweaters, and scarves have been pulled from the closet. The speakers are pulsating with the familiar sounds of holiday tunes in their classic and variation forms. The big red bows, shiny ribbons, and rolls of gift wrap have been purchased. The greeting cards are sifted through and handpicked to the choice selection in preparation for the inevitable and possibly humiliating holiday picture. The scent of gingerbread fills the air, not to mention the grande sized Starbucks coffee cup. The pumpkin pies are baking in the oven, and cooling down on the counter in hopes of scraping off those burnt crust bits before serving. The price tags have been slashed to considerable amounts in the hundreds, a bargain considering the original added to nearly a thousand. The high temperatures have dropped down to a finger numbing average of 65 degrees.

The holidays must be here. And I love it.