Wrestling with the indefinite wait.

Wrestling with my ownership and control over my money, and with my lifestyle.

Wrestling with my will and thoughts.

Wrestling with my blindness, of coming to terms with how little is in my control and knowledge.

Wrestling with an imperfect faith.

Wrestling with my hidden, deeper self’s true idea of God.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my relationship God, it’s that it’s not a fairy tale. In its best moments, it can be a wrestling match on a roller coaster ride. When I ask God for faith, I don’t become robotic, unthinkingly obedient, or “automatically faithful.” It hasn’t been many days since the other post, but clearly I’m grappling with anxiety, hope, and frustration over the lack of prospects for someone to take my place in the apartment I’m subletting, and finding a place to move into, all before May 1. Read More

When you talk about infinity with a filmmaker (because you asked him how old film reels work), you learn that infinity is not just an expansive endless going outside or away (like space is, from us). There is the infinite in the finite as well. For example, if you have a room, you can divide it into two, three, ten, twenty parts, and so forth. It’s infinitely divisible into smaller parts, the way a film can be divided infinitely based on how quickly and/or how spaced apart your slides are.

It never occurred to me that infinity isn’t just expansive towards the outside, but that there is also infinity towards the inside.

This makes me think of the implications about our bodies, our cells. What’s the smallest part of a cell? What stuff is that stuff made of, and the stuff that’s made of? What’s the smallest part if you keep dividing it?

Photo from the National Geographic Italy

I can’t believe what an idiot I can be with money.

As I’ve shared before, online shopping is, surprisingly, something I’m horrible at. How so? On this fair Saturday morning, I’m rushing to a shuttle bus to take me to a Korean spa in New Jersey. What’s so bad about the spa?

When I actually read the details of the deal last night. Just when I thought it would be like the treatment in Manila’s wonderful spas, apparently it’s a spa admission to use the spa rooms. Reading on (which I should have done before buying the voucher. Silly girl…): that is the kind of spa where everyone goes around buck naked. BUCK NAKED. Of course, males and females are segregated. But still. I DON’T WANT TO SPEND MY SATURDAY MORNING BUCK NAKED IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE WHEN I WOULD RATHER SLEEP AND LOOK UP APARTMENTS.

I considered not going, and tried to sell my Groupon to my friend since she’s going with her (visiting) mom and maybe they didn’t get a Groupon deal for two, but they did. And our Groupon expires today. Am I being foolish for not wanting to waste that $22?

In any case, in an hour so, I’ll probably be in a charcoal room sweating it out with other ladies, and hoping they don’t notice I haven’t shaved. These people are in for a treat.

I use the word bacon sparingly, because it is despicably used everywhere. These are one of the occasions worthy of the word. And I promise: it’s completely unlike the coconut bacon some places try to pass off as their inimitable pork original (I mean, what is that crap? Just… eat a mango, or something that’s clearly not trying to be one of the most delicious things on earth)

So there were three onions sitting on the fridge for a week and a half. I always thought they’d be kitchen essentials, since my mom’s kitchen always had garlic and onions. But I hate chopping onions, because it predictably becomes a cryfest, and the smell. Even if they had the potential to become glorious caramelized goodies, the last last time I tried that out, it took too long and was basically hand char and half onion (no caramel magic).

Anyway, the other day, I stumbled across this blog post on caramelizing onions. It’s the real deal, just using olive oil and onions (I’m a purist with my caramelized onions). The pictures of the white tender pieces transforming into a beautiful caramel with charred bits. Fascinating.

Being the cook-them-ALL-or-else-they-might-spoil with a little restraint (1/3 was spared) I turned two of them into the “bacon of the vegetable world.” Now I regret not using all three. They look whiter in the photo than in actual.

It took about 45mins to an hour, with occasional stirring on the pan, but it. was. absolutely. worth. it. Therapeutic, even, as you smell the chemical change going on in the pan. I just may have whipped up a new hobby.

The beauty this labor of love is that you can freeze it to last weeks, or keep it in the fridge as a topper (salad), base (soup) (mom was telling me to make French Onion, which I just might do), omelette enhancer, sandwich add-in ETCETERAAAAAAA. I recently mixed it in with garlic sauteed Chinese broccoli, and a meatball oatmeal tomato stew (which I managed to salvage with blueberries, caramelized onions, chili flakes and tomato sauce).


On other news

I’m finally getting a good night’s rest. Taking Elise’s advice to place the mattress off the cot frame and onto the floor. You have no idea how my spine rejoices.


After a good but tough week at work, I spent the weekend enjoying the first day of spring (or so they say it was, even if today and the days to come will be pretty winterey at around 30F) getting some sun, some supplies, social interaction (including a friendly attack by Gie at Kiehls because I walked in with a Malin + Goetz shopping bag) and a failed attempt at purchasing a leather backpack. Not that it’s a surprise anymore.

Ever since accidentally ending up here, I’ve become weather acquainted like never before. Nothing like a blast of cold air highlighting the importance of having the right layers.

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The toilet was an inevitable dinner topic growing up. Not surprisingly, I have the useless ability (habit, rather) to naturally insert bathroom and biological matters in practically any conversation. My dad is to thank for all that.

Within one of our toilet discussions was the floater. It was the light density kind, a sign of good nutrition, according to my respectable source. When you flush it all down, it’s that one little island that will most likely turn up again.

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