He’s so fuzzy and tubby, and he starts purring if you just look at him.
Tom is friendly and loves attention, however, he doesn’t like people touching his fur. He can sense when you are down, and will lay in bed with you to keep you company (just don’t touch him).
Seeing the sun makes me happy.
Cream topped tea aka sea salt tea
The world is full of shitty things. Situations cause us to hurt. There’s no controlling the amount of shit that hits the fan. And the frustrating part is that there’s no button to press so time will wait until you get yourself together; nor is there a rewind button to press so you can go back and do something different.
Hello world, you’re full of shit.
If you’ve taken any risks and got a slap in the face in return you know the feeling. That heavyheartedness that sits at the bottom of your stomach makes you want to throw up but you can’t because you didn’t eat anything.
But you know what, I don’t care. This world might be full of shitty people and shitty situations, but there’s only one life. It’s too short to try to be anyone else but myself. And this world needs too much love for me to be holding back because of my pride and fear.
Sometimes it takes a loss for me to realize all the walls I’ve put up. A part of me needs to die so a better part of me could be brought to life.
I might not be able to stop all the crap that goes on in the world, but I can choose what I do. And this is me walking away from the fan.
I hate the all pain I experienced. But I’m grateful that my heart still responds to hope. I needed to know that. And now I do. I know I can love.
Remainders of this year's 13.9 lb Turkey. Gobble gobble indeed!
How successful, or discomforting does our life need to be for us to be thankful? Are there kudos in life if we are more thankful? If so, who measures how thankful we are? How many designer accessories must a girl have before she can consider herself blessed? And how sickly do we need to be before we realize how healthy we were before we got sick?
I ask these questions I swear it’s not because I’m trying to be annoying, but because I’m trying to figure out the common denominator of thankfulness. I know that everyone is different –either in social class, gender, race, financial situations, family background, lack of family background, etc. –but despite all the different responses we might get if we ask random people on the street what they’re thankful for, being TRULY thankful wouldn’t be about what we have (because that will vary drastically) but coming to the realization of what we don’t deserve….right?
If I hold on to this theory of what being truly thankful means, then I fail at being thankful all the time, because I think I deserve everything good that’s happened to me.
I was born into a family that loves and accepts me for who I am and what I choose to do. I’m constantly surrounded by people who believe in me and encourage me to be better. My friends are proud of me. From financial struggles, emotional breakdowns, and spiritual discoveries, these areas have been more than blanketed.
All of this is my everyday. Everyday I know this. Everyday I live this. Everyday there’s food on the table. Everyday my mother is only a phone call away. Everyday I come home and can find rest in my very comfortable bed. Everyday I wake up and go to work with people that put a smile on my face. Everyday I know there’s a purpose. Everyday has the potential to be mundane, or not. Everyday there’s life.
Blessings have become such a routine that I’m conditioned to think that I’m deserving of it all. How can I be thankful then, if I believe that I deserve all of this? –my job, my clothes, my relationships, my family, my health. How can thankfulness be measured then? Because if it’s by stuff then I think our current socioeconomic status could determine my thankfulness level.
Where is this going? I’m not sure. But I know this one very tiny but big thing. I can only be truly thankful not because of what I have. I can only be truly thankful because I know I don’t deserve any of it.
Last weekend I met up with my cousins in Orlando, FL. We visited Disneyworld (Magic Kingdom & Epcot), and Universal Studios (Universal Studios & Islands of Adventure). Without being dragged or pressured, I went on all the rides and went into all the haunted houses (6 to be exact). This is quite a big deal because I’m usually adamant about not going on roller coasters/free-drop rides or haunted houses. Something to be proud of? I think so.
I like hanging out with these two.
Space Mountain @ 10am. No line!
We had an agenda: 1) Ride Splash Mountain 2) Fast pass for Thunder Mountain 3) Ride Thunder Mountain 4) Fast Pass for Space Mountain 5) Ride Space Mountain…..
Light parade at Magic Kingdom
Butterbeer at Hogsmeade (Universal’s Islands of Adventure)
It was a good mini trip. Reverse psychology proved its effectiveness.
Cousin: I mean, you won’t die right? (referring to the roller coaster) I think you’ll have fun if you go on it. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Me (thinking): He’s right…dammit.
This deserves a post.
At exactly this time last year I left JorJess‘s beautiful wedding banquet to catch a redeye flight. Before I left, I remember giving hugs for the first time to people I’ve known for years. I remember the four people who saw me off at LAX. I remember not being able to get past the metal detectors because of all the bobby pins in my hair. I remember seeing Sunny amused at my frustration and Tim with a really sad expression on his face. I remember opening their gift before take-off and then crying and cursing myself because I was leaving all I knew and had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into.
It’s been a year in Boston. I grew thicker skin and survived the horrendous winter. *fist pump*
Last year felt like last night. I feel different but the same…
Winter is coming soon and I’m curious what this next cold cold season will bring.
This post could be self-refuting –maybe.
So I got to thinking…when do I stop talking about myself? And I’m mortified when I realize that I’m constantly talking about myself. First of all I have this blog that I secretly hope would blow up one day after a super insightful eloquent post. And then there’s my Facebook where it contains my photos, my profile, my status, my check-ins…my my my. And don’t forget my Twitter account, Yelp page, and Youtube channel (I can provide video and sound just in case you’re tired of merely reading my thoughts).
Can I just stop right here and transfer my thoughts to you so I can stop bitching? (Wait. This could possibly be another social network discovery –promoting ourselves through the medium of transferring thoughts. Genius!)
If profound statements can be written in 140 characters or less then I fail this morning of trying to be profound. That’s my problem. (Though we can argue that the problem is probably the feeling of the need for self-promoting and not actually the problem of generating substantial content.) Either or, I can’t be profound. I have no situation to analyze or say about myself that comes from myself. I’m actually not that interesting. And I’m okay with that. I’d rather learn about others. Not even learn and then talk about others. Just…learn and listen. It’s more interesting. It puts life into perspective. And waay less egocentric.
This doesn’t mean I’m going to stop posting random tidbits of my life on my 7 cyber profiles. I have family and friends that I’d like to keep updated with. And I hope my family and friends won’t stop sharing their lives. This post is for my own self-reflection. I need stop thinking my life experience is more than what it is. Enough with the naval gazing.
So tell me about yourself? I’d really REALLY like to know.
Something enticing about a bare kitchen counter awakens the pastry maker in me.
Something whimsical about the “French Cafe” station transports me back to my parents’ kitchen.
Something comforting about large mixing bowls.
Something satisfying with having all the necessary ingredients.
Something daring about “from scratch.”
Something unsettling when shutting the oven door and setting the kitchen timer.
Something promising when the nose senses sweetness.
Something naughty about cracking the oven door one minute before the timer goes off.
Something proud when the toothpick comes out clean.
I’m not sure what all the baking is about, but I’m enjoying it.
Here are some pictures:
Cranberry and Orange Scones
My mom brought over her baking tray from California and told me to give scones a whirl. This was the first time I made scones NOT from scratch. Could’ve done without the orange. I think next time I’ll try blueberry.
End Product
Madeleines = FAILED
The first batch ended up being a total failure. Out of 24 shortbreads only 1 came out without a crater. Note to self: folding does not mean turbo whisking.
Perfection
The chocolate I used was the same as the dip used for chocolate dipped strawberries. I prefer eating Madeleines in its original lemony light form. The dip was purely for the aesthetically curious.
Nutella Dark Chocolate Chip Cookie Batter
I love Nutella and had to find a way to incorporate its deliciousness. Did you know that there’s a National Nutella Day??
Cookies
This was the first time I made cookies from scratch and realized substitution of baking soda for baking powder was NOT the best idea for a noob baker. Still had fans, but I think I could do better next time.
