Saturday morning

Last post, I wrote that the upcoming week I had to write a report. Well, that's exactly what I did, and it occupied most of my time. I didn't go the gym at all, which is a semi-big deal to me. But when I manage to get good work done, I don't really care. I've been wanting to do a good job for a while now. So worked many hours on the report, and it has been going through a process of continuous refinement which gives me confidence that it will turn out well and polished. Getting the support of various members of the advisory group also helps very much. We're even getting someone to lay this one out for me. (Oh thank you, thank you really). One other thing I wanted to share was that I am confident about all the data in this one. All of it, even the controversial parts that people are going to perhaps bitch about when they see it. That makes me feel strongly about this. So what all this rambling's point was: yes, I spent a lot of time on this and I'm happy so far with the progress and output.

And as if the week wasn't a good enough one yet, I was staffed into a new project, that perhaps will take me to Cebu and Zamboanga later this year. That rocks.

I'm in a good mood.

The morning and afternoon is a scorcher and poor Namee was sweating a lot. She attributes this to her higher body tempature because of all that yoga. Perhaps that is the reason. I ate some food with Nams and her family; there was some Thai vegetarian salad (which might have had dog-hair in it, i know, yuck right). But I tried to forget about that. I ate some of the "nice french food", which market regulars know who we're talking about. It was just a tuna and vegetable sandwich but the bread was substantial and tasty. La Cuisine Francaise is opening a restaurant in Salcedo Village. It will be the space in Paseo Park View, just across Apartment 1-B. Sedeno Street now has those 2 and Terry's on it. Nice new attraction for the neighborhood. I hope it does well.

Finishing up some of Fellini-Satyricon before I go out to do some running. It's just too hot to go out now.

June weekend

Malakas kami uminom sa pamilya. That's my conclusion, since I practically drank an entire bottle of wine for myself last night, during a friendly home mahjong game, and was none worse the wear. Mahar, Gica and I have been introducing the game to the debate society, including Chinese friends who seem to have a lost a little something of their cultural heritage for not knowing the game. My hypothesis is that their parents wanted to insulate them from the culture of throwing tiles and fighting with each other over lost games. In our case anyway, we play an 'old-ladies' game where we play for little or no money, and the fun is in the tactile handling of the tiles as the game is played. We played from 5pm to around 1030pm. Time flies when you play mahjong.

* * *

I'm reading this old book now, a Ruth Reichl book called 'Comfort Me With Apples'. I much prefer it to her later book 'Garlic and Sapphires'. In the latter book, she was already an established restaurant critic, and the writing was about her journey as a writer for the New York Times. This one focuses more on her life as it transition from her Berkeley counterculture life to that of a hopelessly bourgeois restaurant critic. I feel pangs of sadness in the first few pages (and it's raining outside too, that doesn't help) because I already can tell that she's going to be leaving her husband before this book is over.

* * *

I spoke to Cris today, part of my dad's other family, and was reminded that she was quite the runner in HS and College. She ran marathons and did excellent times. She called my 10K time slow (which I'm not too concerned about). But I will be sticking to my 3x a week training, and won't take her suggestions (just yet) of running almost everyday, and at minimum distances of 10K-- as training for my half marathon later this year. No thanks. But I'm glad that we talked about running anyway. It used to be her dream to run the Boston or NY marathon. I don't know if I'll get that far, but I'd like to eventually run a marathon out of the country. Like in Berlin or some far away place where the weather is cooler.

* * *

A new week is coming up, and I have to write a report.

Mrs. Pettigrew Lives a Day

Last night, I extended a spur of the moment invitation to N to meet at Greenbelt. I was finishing an office-sponsored dinner at Chili’s and had no wish to head home just yet as I had a lot of corn and rice to digest. N lives across the street from one side of Greenbelt, so I wasn’t surprised that she responded quickly and agreed to meet.

We didn’t have an agenda, and we found ourselves walking. We wondered why some dessert places close early, and if we would spend 499 pesos per head for videoke, given that we only wanted to sing for an hour. We made a snap decision to watch a movie, and decided on the late-release Mrs. Pettigrew Lives A Day. We figured a Frances McDormand - Amy Adams movie would be entertaining.

Though I thought the movie was inaudible at times, and N had nodded off more than once, we both agreed that the movie was indeed entertaining. It’s probably simplistic to say so, but I will say that the movie seemed like a Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris marriage to Nanny McPhee. We are always charmed when the ugly teach the uppity how to behave like proper human beings.

The actors in this movie were caricatures of characters they are famous for portraying effortlessly. Frances McDormand is lonely and unloved. Amy Adams is either cute or tiresome, depending on the mood you’re in. Shirley Henderson, who plays the corrosive Edythe, knows how to curve her spine and gaze at the camera just so that I am torn between loving her perpetually unhappy look or laughing at her face. I think this was the intended effect anyway.

There are enough good lines in the movie, and I would have caught more if I had paid more attention. Here is one that affected me in the viewing:

Guinevere Pettigrew: “You people, with your green drinks and your parties and your subterfuges! You're all playing at love. One minute her, the next minute someone else, flit, flit, flit! We'll, I'm not playing. Love is not a game.” (courtesy IMDB.com)

* * *

We didn’t spend much time going over the movie after it was over. I walked N to her corner and I took the 3 minute cab ride home.

running wet

There has been much status-message complaining about the heat enveloping the city. I would have joined in the chorus, if it hadn't been that so many people were already stating the obvious.

It was my luck that during my run tonight there was a good downpour. I found it slightly odd that runners took cover under a shed as the drops started to pick up in intensity. Wasn't the rain exactly the tonic we need against this muggy weather? Perhaps they knew something I didn't because 20 or so minutes after, I started getting itchy welts on my collar bone and back. I was taking a shower in rain water AND some additional tree things. T, who had been running with me, felt the same itchiness. Regardless of the itching or not though, we were happy that we were getting soaked. 

* * * 

UP Diliman has a scheme that allows multiple exit points for students and faculty, but forces everyone else to exit the place via University Avenue. I do not understand the reasons behind this, but if the goal is improved security or easing traffic congestion, I doubt this is going to help.

* * *

I finally finished Edmund White's the Flaneur. The flaneur or rambler/stroller of a city, isn't so much the topic of the book as rather a device used to organize White's account of the modern history of Paris. I enjoyed the book, and liked the fact that it was short (200 pages in fairly large print). I am starting to read a new book now, Saul's The Unconscious Civilization. It is similar to reading Nassim Taleb in that economics/finance is immediately being discredited (and with fair reason).  The lectures from which the book is based on  are almost 15 years old, but are still relevant and good reading.

* * *

Successful design solution at work?

* * *

More rain.

Fixing Up

I have a new flat mate, and like my previous one, he's also into fixing up spaces, hanging things and bringing in plants. I looked at my sad little room and thought, dang.

I roped brother Mahar into the problem, and asked him for his advice. It was a very helpful conversation. My favorite part was when he quoted Martha: "Nothing says college dorm room more than exposed clothing." That made total sense to me and goaded me to act.  And this is why the both of us trooped off into SM and bought a dark wooden cabinet. I can't wait for the SM folk to deliver and assemble the thing this Wednesday. If I'm in a good enough mood, I might even post a photo. Tonight I will also be sleeping on new sheets that are color of mango and pistachio ice cream. Ha ha.

Mahar has a bunch of friends in the theatre world who are into building sets and said that they would probably love to come paint my room a nice blue color. All I need to do is buy a large pizza and maybe a box of Krispy Kremes. Good deal.

* * *

Partially because I felt that it would jinx things, I did not blog here that R, my previous room-mate had left for a job in HK, and that I would be looking for a new flat mate. I have a new one now and things are going pretty okay. He likes to eat fruit, run, and is not psycho. Do you guys know how rare that is to find in this city?

* * *

So many people seem to be in this part of town these days. More on this in the future. 

Stir Fry

Walking home, I thought, "Man, I'd really like some food. Where can I go buy something". I stopped and thought though: "Nothing particularly appealing or cheap. Maybe, I could cook something instead."

Here's an easy dish that took me around 30 mins to do. And that is because I am a slow cooker.

Gather the following ingredients
- a few bits of garlic
- half an onion
- around 250g(?) of broccoli (one of those smallish bunches from Rustans)
- small pack of oyster mushrooms
- black bean garlic sauce of LKK
- honey, as much as one of those packs you get for tea in Starbucks.
- olive oil

1. Chop the garlic, onion to smaller pieces. Make them the size you like, but I recommend smallish and dicey.
2. Chop the broccoli. Remove the parts on top that are starting to go discolored because of age.
3. Heat the pan with a bit of olive oil. Heating is only step 3 'coz I chop slow and don't want smoking oil when I'm not done chopping.
4. When pan is sufficiently hot, saute the garlic. Enjoy the smell of cooking
5. Saute the onion too. Keep on cooking til it turns transparent-ish.
6. Add the chopped broccoli. Be patient in cooking broccoli. Maybe 5 minutes or so for now.
7. Add the mushrooms
8. Add the black bean garlic sauce, approx 2 teaspoons. Don't add too much, as it has a strong flavor.
8. Add the honey, and even a (shh) bit of Soy sauce / Knorr Savor if you think it'll help.
9. Cook some more. Stir the veg even if this doesn't help but at least it seems like you're "cooking".
10. Taste your yummy stir fry.
11. Ready to eat. Pair with some good carbs, such as: good white rice / good red rice / good toasted whole grain bread. Do not pair with croissant.
12. Be proud and tell friends.

Feeds: Just Yourself.

Sunday morning in the north

9:30 AM. The clocks tell me that life SHOULD be moving at this mid-morning half hour. As the pleasant morning habits are over -- newspaper, oatmeal breakfast, e-mail and shower -- I am compelled to get something started.

It is Sunday, so the standard as to what starting something is, is lax. In my case, I decide with glee that this means writing in a coffee shop and buying groceries. So here I am.

* * *

My favorite barista, T, isn't around. I will receive no banter on what book I happy to have tucked under my arm. Instead, I am met by two cheery faces inquring about how I'd like my mocha. A quick scan of the store and I see the usual coffee-shop characters: student, shoulders hunched and head bowed, high-lighting a photocopied reading, mp3 player in his ears; two baseball moms in their blue uniforms & white shoes, perfectly dressed and no grass stains in sight; 20-something guy with stubble, scribbling on a pad, in jeans, t-shirt & sandals, accompanied by appropriate liberal minded-book and backpack.

None of these coffee people will exchange words with each other this morning. What anchors them into this modern-day community space is the jazz music, soft recessed-ceiling lights and hanging lamps.

* * *


Having read the first few chapter of Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma, I examine all food labels for insiduous insertions of subsidized industrial corn: maltodextrin, fructose, corn syrup, xantham gum, MSG, cornstarch, etc. I determine that passing on Lee Kum Kee's Black Bean Garlic Sauce is too great a sacrifice for keeping my food-conscience clear. I figure that my food karma will balance out, since I'll be cooking tofu and mushrooms with it.

A lady offers me a free-taste of chicken nuggets as I walk through the frozen meats section. Should I make a scene and recoil in horror?

I buy many interesting vegetables, wrapped in a lot of plastic. All purchases can go into my backpack or over-priced canvas bags conveniently sold by the grocery store.

All virtue has a price.

* * *

Back at home and my two useful siblings are still asleep.

(to be continued)