100th post in the 99th Ü

I am currrently 'buying' off my time till i write my 100th post. I mean, I might be new to the blogging world, but I somewhat know that it [the 100th post] is important! I mean, duh?! haha. So.

That's why I am here, writing nonsensical things, again! I am quite giddy with excitement about actually writing my 100 things about me [I think it's customary? no? i am still doint it anywa. Haha]

Hmm, let me just share that I gave in to the newest craze nowadays, entitled: Twilight. I dont know if I can be ashamed of myself more. haha. I mean, I have been talking my mouth off about how a love story can never just equal Harry Potter [forgive me, i am a can't-get-over-harry-Potter fan Ü]. But, almost everyone I know talks about it like it's really good and interesting and all that...and Edward Cullen was just to die for, so i was intrigued. Then, i watched the movie and all the previous desire to actually by an expensive book withered. haha. Can't emphasize my disappointment enough. Ü So I am now saying to everyone that I thought it's okay, but it's not for me so as not to admit that I wasted 160 bucks for something that I don;'t even want to think about. haha. beat that! Ü

Hmm, and please tell me how weird am I? When i saw the UK edition of the harry potter 6 earlier, i felt this guilt and then melancholy crept inot me. I sort of felt that i should be holdinig my own copy of the book now, rereading, for the IDK, but maybe because of the movie's trailer being out already...

Then, i figured out that I should just stop this...I am showing how I hate myself with this. Ü

Taho-P10

Many would prefer a cup of expensive ice cream with swirls of Belgian chocolate. Frankly, I could not see why. For apart from the nice taste, which include the "fragrance" of the chocolate that I find sickening when taken in large doses, and the classy look one would immediately acquire as one starts to eat it, I still find it as a rather pretentious thing to eat.

Well, everyone has his own taste, and as for me, I would rather have the fresh, soft tofu, with the sweet, sticky carmelized sugar for syrup, garnished with chewy sago: locally known as Taho. Served in a disposable cup, with a disposable spoon or a fraction of a straw, steaming and giving off such a delicious scent, it is an eveyday thing for me and as far as I can tell, for the common Filipinos, as well.

I really love the way taho's ingredients counterbalance each other. The blackish brown of the arnibal (carmelized sugar) breaks the monotony of the white of the tofu and together blend an interesting mix of colors that are appealing to the eyes. Also, the sweetness of the syrup is made acceptable by the neutrality of the tofu. The sago, on the other hand, provides texture to the otherwise too smooth a way the other two feel to the mouth.

Apart from the way it affects my senses, taho also serves a reminder. A reminder of early mornings, waking up to manong's "Tahoooo! Tahoooo kayo riyan!", of rushing out of the house with my brother, tousled hair and morning breaths, and demanding the adults for some of the taho. Also, taho connects me to the masses. For, interestingly enough, taho is also now a diversion, an alternative, to the more popular morning habit of the Filipinos called "kape at pandesal", and having it any time of the day, everyday, is just a very Filipino thing to do.

Now, do not get me wrong. I do enjoy a cup of expensive ice cream with swirls of Belgian chocolate. It's just that eating something like that worries me. I mean, it leaves me penniless and I have to think of a way to compensate. With taho, however, I can have a local version of the costly stuff, and I can always have it...guilt-free, financially, that is.

Ü

wee..third post.Ü

I am back to my writing flare (?). This is my 3rd post for the day. hehe..yeah, well...this just say one thing...my brother's not at home. He is away fot his on-the-job-training. I am not saying that I am glad that he is away. It's just that this way, I have the computer for myself, for the whole day at most. Ü

But I do wonder if my blogs would ever be updated once I started college. I expect I would be busy and all the Internet cafes would be jampacked. But i will definitely find the time to do so. Ü

Oh, and the list of my other blogs would most probably be posted some time this week.Ü

I Am From

I've read about this through one of my blogs. It's actually a writing activity wherein you just have to fill it up with memories. Ü So, here it is.

I Am From

I am from our dogs' barks, the strange man's horses' neighs and stray cats' meows. From Century tuna in the afternoons, Centrum vitamins after dinner and skyflakes at midnights.

I am from the "ship-looking", new house on the block. From tiled floors, non-painted walls and windows that refuse to open. From creaky stairs, whose steps were made of several 2x2 slabs nailed together.

I am from the yellowing ampalaya vines, from the bloody-red bugambilya that climbed up the nearest tree , the vast lands of nothing but dry grass that were more than once set on fire leaving nothing but black soot on white shirts and pungent smell on pants.

I am from religious meetings, religious camps and jocular people. From Jim, Grace and Jaizon.

I am from singing during power outages and seeing cousins once a year during Christmas.

I am from grandmom's mischief as a child and rice coming out of your body through your wound if you refuse to let the them clean it.

I am from a big picture of Jesus hung on my brother's room and a big, glow-in-the-dark rosary in the hallway. From visita iglesia on good fridays, attending service meetings and family prayers in the living room at night.

I am from a public ward and a borrowed pantali sa pusod and from people who worked in farms and mental institutions. From grilled tilapia for lunch and steamy champorados on hot afternoons.

I am from dad singing at the top of his voice, from mom's frequent, tinkling laughs and from my big brother's giving ways.

I am from photo albums stashed away (only leaving their place when someone important comes to visit) and photo albums so battered with age that it now falls apart when perused, from blown-up pictures of my parents' wedding, my brother when he's three and me when I was three. From the old TV cabinet now full of files, the two old bookcases staggering from the weight, the patched bed covers and the stained curtains billowing in the early morning breeze.

I am from the hands of those who are apart most of the times but whose hearts are stitched together by love.

Here is the link for the format...