In the mood

It’s 6:28pm. I’m in a cafe in BGC, waiting for 7pm because I have to attend a Christmas party event thing for a local airline. And I suddenly find myself feeling something that I haven’t felt in so long.

I am in the mood to write.

Which tells you that I either have free time in my hands, or I feel inspired. I’m neither, to tell you the truth.

Perhaps its the lovebirds in front of me, extraordinarily young things that gab a lot about life, or their version there of, or maybe it’s Jeeves, my husby sitting beside me to my right— looking stressed about a missing unfinished article—I don’t know.

But I’m in the mood to write.

Perhaps I can write about what I’m feeling — this strange feeling of in between that has been with me since — I dunno— months before my wedding? Perhaps I can write about wanting to drink the plum sake I bought from my honeymoon — I can imagine sipping it — sweet and tart — smooth as silk — down my throat it goes —

oh wait, the kids are leaving.

The view’s clear — I’m at the second floor, I look down and I see — a lot of people walking, some sitting, and a lot of lights. Christmas lights, it’s the holiday season after all.

I’m in between, and even though I’ve been in this place a lot of times, I can’t get used to it.

Jeeves interrupts, asks me what Chef Claude Tayag’s restaurant’s name again. I tell him — “Bale Datung, Balay Datung… I dunno.. google to be sure?” which basically sums up everything, I guess.

Unsure, yes. Scared, yes. And a lot of people might think this is about marriage, but it’s not– not entirely. I’ve stopped crying and being homesick for a while now, and I can’t seem to sleep in our room without my husband beside me. Yes, clingy. (I know!)

People are leaving my life. Special people. Staple people. The people that I thought I would see grow old, as they’ve seen me grow old. You trust in a higher power that this is how it’s supposed to be, but just like any ending– it still hurts. That little sting that won’t go away.

There’s other things — family members that disappoint. Family members that are hurt. But the universe gives you what you need— always, and that’s why I think I’m teaching Emotional Intelligence these days. First thing about that — self-awareness.

Which is perhaps the reason for this need to write, this mood to express — self-awareness isn’t much if you just think it. I don’t know if that’s scientifically proven, but I feel like it’s supposed to be that way. Although putting into words these feelings is hard, even futile sometimes– these complex bastards change as often as one breathes. Something really fast– in between heartbeats, a heart breaks. Ganon.

Common. Tragic.

Oh Wait—

My husband just asked me about how to make Chicken Gallantina. I answer him — traditionally, you take a whole chicken and you take out the bones — from the inside — you reach in with your hands– one by one you take the bones out — all without tearing the skin. Then you stuff it with a forcemeat of pork and chicken, a few veggies, and you can put eggs in there too, I say. Then you tie it. Then you steam it. And there you have it!  Something that at first glance may look like an ordinary/pale boiled chicken dish, but when you cut into it — it’s so much more.

There should be an analogy about what I’m feeling and that Chicken Gallantina right now. Something profound and exciting, I’m not in the mood to make it though.

And there it ends, the mood to write.





I have a lot of clubs.

Clubs. Associations. Organizations. Groups. I’ve got a lot of those. I’ve got storytelling orgs and groups, book clubs, eating groups, and speaking groups. Basically, I have a group for most of the things that I like doing.

That said, with the previous post, I’ve realized that what I most need at this time (mainly because I cannot devote myself to cooking and the pursuit of, because my life is basically full of a lot of things– including being President of a Speaking Club, and the process of getting married) is a cooking club.

We sorta had a thing like this a long time ago, when a friend (now fiance) used to invite friends over to cook. It’s a great idea. I miss it.

And while I’m not sure if I have the time, I’m willing the universe to manifest this for me. I want a cooking club that meets (once a month? is that okay) to cook stuff, experiment on things, geek out on food, that kind of deal.

So is this possible?

Thoughts? Anyone willing to join me?


I write this because a lot of things happened today.

There was an earthquake.

I watched a lot of award-winning chefs.

I also realized that I could die tomorrow, or in this instant.

Time flies very fast. (This one is courtesy of a 60th birthday party I attended today too)

And that I really want to cook again.

The last one was a bit of a curve ball. I have no idea where that idea came from, as these days, I’m pretty happy with occasionally cooking for myself, the fiance, or for the family during the holidays.

I have mostly resigned myself to writing about food.

I met one of my old culinary school classmates in a regional dinner in this Madrid Fusion Manila. She now was the executive chef of a big hotel in Batangas, and as we were talking and doing some catching-up, I had the big bad feeling of…regret.

Visuals of what could-have-beens flashed in my head, and I remembered how much potential I had as a cook. And hey, two of the people who taught me how to cook were on the Madrid Fusion stage, so really, I was ripe of some good ole fashioned self-reproach.

So the whole time today, I’m thinking and feeling two things—that some of the things I’m thinking are possible, OR all these new (and old barely resuscitated) dreams are too late.

Le sigh.

And this is not something that I should really be thinking now, I’m thinking. (Dang, I think too much!) I have a lot of things on my plate– getting married, moving houses, the summer season (which is always big for my business), my lack of waistline, my costume/outfit to the britney spears concert, the articles that I still have to write, and have I mentioned my lack of waistline already? Yep. Lotsa things on my plate.

So why am I thinking of this stupid thing?

I blame the earthquake.

But as firm believer that things happen for a reason, then maybe I’m supposed to get these thoughts, and my gut is supposed to clench every time that I do, or that my head wants to explode because I cannot deal with time running out.

Just breathe.

That advice was given to me by my fiance last week when I was having a faux-nervous breakdown. You know the type where you want to quit everything but you know you can’t cause no one is going to do it except you anyway? So you just cry, keep outwardly calm, but inside you’re like ‘Lord Jesus help meeeeh!’ and carry on. THAT kind of thing.

I blame the earthquake.
Nothing like the swaying of a building that you’re in and a forced evacuation to give you some some perspective.

The truth is, I’m still in that half-shit phase where I don’t know what to do, or if I should do anything and wait for the time that it’s right, or some shit like that, which usually doesn’t really work anyway, because at this point– I don’t know the shit I’m supposed to do anyway!

Or maybe I’ll just keep thinking about it. It’s holy week, and that’s a good thing to do during this time, right?

Reflect, genuflect, and just effing figure things out while not too eating much, and possibly exercising, because sacrifice.

So 4/9/2017, waddup?**

**article writing for this started at 4/8/2017