No, I am not pregnant. I am eating. Eating for one. Or two. Heck, even three! Me, my mind, and my belly. My irregular eating routine I’m going through lately is starting to bug me. But that is forgivable for all the things I’m working on in parallel. Between procrastination and the nothings I am committed to, I am actually getting some work done.
For the winter issue of The Carton magazine, entitled A Proustian Memory, a piece of writing that I submitted was published and I couldn’t get any prouder to be part of such cultural publication. This piece revisits my memories of the period of Saint Barbara’s day through Christmas with scents, sights, and flavors.
It’s the end of the season. A good covered pie is still on my mind. I brought granny Smith apples and some red plums to bake. As always, I get busy with something else, or put the project on hold until I have more time and a better mindset. My little sister doesn’t share this notion. She swept the whole bag of apples. All but one, as I discovered later.
When your life takes an unexpected turn and gives you a lot to think about and process, sometimes you are left with your thoughts, overworked from the craziness of things in your head at one moment. Early this year I was an employee working from 8 to 5 in an office, on a desk, behind a screen, endlessly clicking the mouse before the bell rings announcing the day’s end. I had an opportunity that seemed to bright, and too got to be true. I knew I would be dumb and regret it if I didn’t take it. So I jumped.
In the past five months, my life matched my soul; floating, figuring things in the ether, finding it’s calling. I’ve cooked, managed the restaurant, sous chef-ed, catered at a gala event as part of the Bi Bayti team(you can hire me to cook at your home now!), cooked in the mountains for more than 50 person each time, got my name and work printed (read my interview on one8one magazine here, and buy the latest issue of The Carton to read my entry), and I went on TV. Continue reading →