Finding my MUSE

MUSE at the Staples Center (9/25/10)

Back in the day, I used to be all on top of the newest, hottest band. I went to all-ages punk and ska shows, I could name every band on the radio, including those that were still under the radar (and thus cooler since no one else had heard of them yet). I donned concert T-s and Docs. My hair was a different color every other week.

So what happened?

I got older. I got preoccupied with school and work. And I became - yikes! - uncool. Yeah, I still love my music, but I must say, the bands I know these days are the ones I'm sure most people do. The last concert I paid a ticket to go see? Coldplay at the Honda Center in Anaheim in 2008. Not shabby, but I know there are plenty of great music I'm missing out on.

Thanks to my younger sis, who graciously gave me her extra ticket, I got to see MUSE at the Staples Center the other night. I've liked MUSE for a few years now, but after watching them live, I think they're probably the best rock performance I've seen. No kidding. MUSE is a combination of progressive rock, alternative and metal with the showmanship of a 70's stadium rock band. With rousing lyrics inciting change and action in the face of injustice, MUSE resonates with today's generation.

Concert highlights? The rousing Uprising was the perfect opener, and Time is Running Out was a hard rocking highlight. Crowd fave was the radio hit Starlight where lead singer Matthew Bellammy handed over vocal duties to the audience who knew the chorus word for word. My favorite was the riff-pounding Hysteria.

Even from our nosebleed seats you can feel the energy. People rocking out, moving and singing along from all levels. I almost forgot the rush you get from watching a live performance, that beyond the music and the visual experience, the crowd reaction and being a part of the excitement is what takes a good performance to the next level. It becomes...spellbinding.



First Training Session

I'm proud to say, the hubs and I made it through our first hurdle--running our first training session. We ran the two miles from our house to the nearby race track and park where we ran another round. It was tough, especially tough on the hubby who complained of sore joints and an aching back. On the other hand, I was feeling good, and I might have been able to go another mile if I hadn't reminded myself that this was my first run in a long time and to take it easy.
I haven't quite convinced the hubby to run the marathon with me ("That's crazy talk!" he says when I bring it up) but he's willing to run and exercise more since his usually lean and lanky physique has gotten somewhat rounder in recent months (insert gut here).
Considering recommended training schedules for beginners recommend running two miles three times a week for the first week, I think I'm doing well. We'll see how I fare in the coming months!

Adventures in the Kitchen #1

No, this is not strictly a food blog, but from my latest posts, I suppose it would seem so. Yes, food is a big part of my life and I will always celebrate it on this bloggie blog. But I intend there to be much more discussed here other than my culinary adventures. But with no job at the moment, I've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen, which I tell myself to appreciate. When -- note when -- I find a job, I won't have the time to explore and cook new recipes as much as I've been doing now. So, each week, I'll keep weekly updates on the different dishes I'll try in the kitchen, and I'm enjoying every minute of it!

1. Longanisa - A sweet and somewhat spicy pork sausage. It's typical Filipino breakfast or merienda food. Cooking Longanisa is...interesting.  Simmer the links in an inch of water until the water has dried and then fry the links in its own juices, fat and sugar that have oozed onto the pan. Sure, your pan takes a merciless beating (expect a cake of burnt sugar to form), but the results are worth it. Just be sure you have a sturdy sponge on hand.

2. Chicken Parmesan - With 2 pounds of boneless chicken thighs in the freezer, I needed a chicken dish. Wandering Chopsticks was again my go-to recipe site, and although the recipe calls for chicken breasts rather than thighs, this turned out just fine. Family loved it, although I'd like to cook real Italian food someday. I can imagine all the true Italian chefs out there curling their lips at my corrupted take on Italian cuisine -- canned Prego and melted Parmesan cheese, and presto! I have chicken parmesan! Please forgive me, I'm poor and somewhat lazy.

3. Chicken Afritada - I'm feeling a lot like Iron Chef right now. My mother-in-law gave us a bag of potatoes and now I must figure out what I'm going to do with them. The first recipe that came to mind was chicken afritada. Or ah-pree-tah-dah, as Pinoys call it because they can't pronounce their f's. It's one of my favorite comfort foods. Unfortunately, this didn't come out exactly as I wanted...I only had boneless chicken breasts on hand and the chicken was somewhat dry. Alas, you win some, you lose some.

3. Chicken and zucchini stirfry - Sorry I don't have a photo of this one. Maybe I was sooo disappointed with the color and look of this dish that I decided that a photo would do a great disservice to it, since it was actually pretty tasty. I used dark soy sauce because that's all that we had (recipe calls for just regular soy sauce) and boy...did it make my stirfry dark!  I don't think you could make out the zucchini or the mushrooms I put in it because they all looked like dark brown pieces of meat. Why is it that food seems to taste better the morning after you cook your food?

4. Itailian breaded porkchops and potato salad - I don't have a picture of my porkchops...it was gone, just like that! I thought there'd be some left over after dinner for my usual photo shoot, but nope, none left. I suppose it's a good sign when the family gets seconds...and thirds and fourths. But I did have some potato salad left over to take a photo of that. I had to double up on the measurements and I added green peas and a sprinkle of paprika for more color.

The "Olympic" fig leaf

In my first post, I referred to the symbolic fig tree in Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. Each fig represented some life dream the main character Esther wanted to accomplish. One of the dreams was becoming an Olympic champion, a dream that I know is unrealistic for me considering that I'm out of shape and over-the-hill at 30, compared to Olympic athletes who've trained since emerging out of the womb.

But there's an Olympic-like feat I know I want to accomplish before I get too old and rickety.

That goal?

I want to run a full marathon. I want to complete a 26-mile race. I wouldn't be doing it for a particular time, I just want to run the entire thing at my own pace without stopping.

For some, that's an easy task, but for me -- the kind of gal who was never into sports -- it's a huge, Herculean feat. Growing up, my sisters all had ribbons and trophies from their days on swim teams, and I never contributed to the awards case that sat proudly in display in our home. Now, I want to prove to myself that I can push my body to accomplish something I never thought I could.

I did run a half-marathon once almost three years ago in Phoenix, Arizona for the Rock N' Roll Half Marathon, and the 13 miles was excruciating. I thought that would be my life's "Olympic" feat...but that was only half of the big one. The big daddy. The real Olympic event. I've always wondered...what if I could accomplish that one?

Yep, that's me with my medal after finishing the Phoenix half marathon in 2007.

So, while I look for a job, I'm in need of another goal. The hubby wants to get in shape and start running and I think this would be an excellent goal to work towards together.

The date? That would be March 20, 2011, The LA Marathon.

With about six months to go, I need to get cracking on training. There's Team in Training, an organization that helps you train while you raise funds for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society...but it's a huge commitment. You have hit thousands of dollars in donations, and if you don't...you pay the difference. Ouch! It's a great organization though...and I'm still contemplating if I have the time. I do now, but who knows how busy I'll be when I do find a job and trying to train in the meantime.

Tonight, the hubs and I will take on our first jog. The goal for today's workout? Two miles.
Baby steps. Baby steps.

Fingers crossed

 Source

Interview for a jobbie job. 

Focus. Focus. Focus.

Finding Filipino identity through food

As a Filipino-American, I'm familiar with topics on Filipino identity and discovery. I'm accustomed to the dialogue that goes along with it -- the yearning to learn more about our little-known or recognized history, the desire to hold onto dying traditions and languages, the generational divide between Americanized Filipino youth and their immigrant parents. As a college student rediscovering my own ethnic heritage, I clamored for all things Filipino-centric, looking for things that were "genuine" and even contemplated an "authentic" Filipino tribal tattoo on my back. The irony was that the tribal tattoo was as foreign to me as any other non-Pinoy, and even to my own immediate ancestors -- none of whom most likely,  I would later gather, bore tribal tattoos.

My name in ancient Filipino script

Pinay-pride Guess heels

But it didn't matter, because I was growing to love all things Filipino, where in the past I had grown to be ashamed of it. It was liberating and exciting, and that time in my life was indeed a learning and growing experience. Now, that I'm a little older, I no longer care to have a Filipino tribal tattoo on my back (or any tattoo for that matter), and my cravings for all things Pinoy-centric has calmed down. I no longer romanticize the culture, but I continue to have respect and honor for my own heritage. I can say that I am proudly Filipino and I can enjoy my identity as a Filipino-American without feeling that I am either confined or completely defined by it.

Wow, didn't know San Pedro can be quite pretty!

This past weekend, we attended the Philippine Arts and Culture Festival in Pt. Fermin Park in San Pedro. There was Filipino art galore, novelty items like the ever-present giant wooden fork and spoon that hangs in nearly every Filipino household (yes, growing up, there was a pair in our home), booths on ancient Filipino medicine and arts, traditional performances and food...oh, yes the food.

While I love Filipino arts, celebrating community and a good tinikling, I would be lying if I didn't say the main reason for me to go to this annual festival multiple times is for its food. Filipino food is home to me. While there are more celebrated and refined cuisines in this world, my personal love is Filipino food. It signifies mom, family, gatherings, love and celebration. And I can rarely pass up an opportunity to relive it all.

While scoping out the different food vendors, we settled on White Rabbit, a Filipino-fusion food truck. With LA's Korean-Mexican fusion truck Kogi gaining legions of customers through it ingenious Twitter marketing campaign, I'm seeing a whole new crop of the Asian-inspired roach coaches.

The White Rabbit food truck

Novelty idea? A shortlived fad? I dunno. But I loved that I could order a meal of sisig on the go.

Pork sisig

Sisig is a simple, but tasty melange of pork bits and crunchy grinds, jalepeno, garlic and onions. Doesn't sound particularly pleasing, but my taste buds love it. That's the thing with much of Filipino cuisine. We take what most would consider rudimentary, simple or just plain crap and make it golden. 

 
The hubs ordered a sample of their Filipino tacos-one with pork tocino, one with bistek (Filipino beef steak), and another with chicken adobo. Maybe I'm just too much of a purist when it comes to Filipino food, but putting these three flavors in a taco is just a little too far off the grid for me. It's like french fries. Sure, you can put it with salt and vinegar, maybe even mayonaise. But it's best with ketchup, and to someone raised on Mickey D's kids meals, it's almost blasphemous with anything else.

My sister's Spam and Egg slider from the Manila Machine

My sister chose a spam and egg slider at the Manila Machine, another Filipino food truck. One of it's owners is the writer of one of my favorite food blogs, Burnt Lumpia. With a slice of fried egg, spam and a little banana ketchup in between a fluffy pieces of pan de sal, this tiny, almost-bitesized sandwich is pure Filipino goodness.

My ube and red bean ice cream bar

To cap off our Filipino cuisine sampling, we bought some ice cream. I stuck with ube, a type of purple sweet yam that's a mainstay in much of Filipino desserts. As most know, Pinoys love their purple stuff. My ube ice cream bar was filled with red bean. Each bite reminded me of frozen halo halo (without the coconut).

After maxing out our money on food and Pinoy memorabilia, we called it a day. Now, what to do with my new pair of oversized fork and spoon? No, just kidding, haven't gone there yet. ;)

Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt - Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?

 

I love Zooey Deschanel. I'd have to say, if I wasn't so sure of my heterosexuality, then I'd look for a Zooey look-alike. Same quirky style, same silky voice that belongs on a retro mod 60s record. Yup. Thankfully, I've already found my life partner and I'm content to listen to Zooey on my iPod (Mmmhhmm, we go by a first name basis). 

My sister recently introduced me to Zooey's singing work with her band She & Him, and I'm hooked. I especially love the above video she made with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, her co-star in 500 Days of Summer. What a cute dancing couple these two make! Of course, I already had an inkling Zooey was a great singer with her duet with Will Ferrell in Elf. Classic.

Baseball cravings

You will soon know that the hubby and I are Lakers fans true and true. Our wedding colors were, yes, purple and gold.

But baseball...I'd rather watch the highlights on ESPN.

Our friend had four free tickets to see the Angels vs. Mariners at an Angels home game in Anaheim. So we joined him in some pretty good seats near the action.

But really, what's an ambivalent baseball spectator like me to do during nine slow innings?

What else? Eat!

Now, I'm not overly excited about overpriced food.

The Angel Dog was like any other hot dog and our nachos were--at $8-- the most I've ever spent on processed cheese.

Quite disappointing...

But what did I expect? Gourmet food?

Just as I about to write off this baseball outing as an uneventful evening in sports and stadium cuisine (the game dragged on for 14 innings), something wonderful happened.

Our friend's cousin tipped us off on the most amazing cheddar fries ever...ok, maybe amazing is a stretch but after our overpriced meal of hotdog and nachos, this mound of carb goodness had our taste buds dancing.

sour cream cheddar fries

chilli fries

Golden, crispy, oozing with cheese and whatever unhealthy topping you want. Better tasting and the better deal at $4.50. But they're a little hard to find. Head past the the food vendors, near the smoking section and you'll find a stand selling them. Still can't find them, ask someone and they'll know what you mean.

So, if you don't catch a homerun ball, these cheddar fries might be your next best thing!

Remembering "The Day"

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I was rushing to get ready for class.

Dammit. I overslept again.

I headed toward the door of our dorm apartment when my roommate came rushing out of her room with a phone in her hand.

"Oh, my God!" She kept saying over and over again. "My mom called. A plane crashed into the Word Trade Center! There's no more building! It's gone!"

Whatever does she mean? No more World Trade Center? That's the tallest building in the world! She's always exaggerating. Silly girl.

I head to class. It's unusually sunny. The morning air is crisp. I even remember that birds were singing. Even as I rush to class, I remember that random detail. Everything seems peaceful. Like the most perfect morning.

I expect the class to be in full swing when I arrive. I hope to sneak into a chair in the back when the professor's back is turned.

As I walk in, the professor is sitting on the edge of her seat. Solemn. Everyone is quiet. The silence strikes me like running into a great wall.

The aid hands me a copy of a newswire report. I slowly sit down in my chair as the headline screams, "US Attacked, Hijacked jets destroy twin towers and hit Pentagon in day of terror."

I can't believe it. Even with a photo of dazed people covered in ash retreating from the World Trade Center site, I still can't believe it.

Some people in the classroom are in tears. Most are just like me, stunned.

The professor begins talking. We need to let out our feelings. Let's talk about it, she says. I don't hear much of what is said, until someone behind me says something about religion.

"It's things like this that makes me wonder why we even have religion," he says. "Religion has never done this world any good. It's started wars, murdered a lot of people, and this is just another example. When I think of Islam, I don't think of peace. I think of war. I don't understand why people would even adhere their lives to such hate."

I don't know what makes me raise my hand. Nothing has ever compelled me to speak in that class before. Early in my college years, I was much more shy than I am now. But something he said spurred all of my emotions of sadness, anger and fear. I'm griefstricken for all those who've died. I'm angry that people would be filled with such hate to do such an evil thing. I'm scared that someone can do that to me, to someone I love. I feel my fellow student's hurt. But I have to say something.

"Religion is not to blame," I say. "We can't blame religion for someone's misinterpretation of it. Islam calls for peace, not hatred. I believe that all faiths calls for love and understanding of one's neighbor. I am not Muslim, I'm Catholic. I don't attend mass every Sunday, but religion has been a big part of my life. It's enriched it, my core values of understanding, compassion and love have been developed through my religious background. I can't fault an entire religion because of the radical views of a few. But it's just tragic, so tragic, that those few can do so much harm."

Nine years later, the news runs images of Islamic extremists making new terrorizing threats. I see the horrific images and the agonizing accounts that continue to burn into our memories. I see a Christian church in Florida calling for a Quran burning. There are two groups with angry eyes and words pitted against each other not too far from where two towers fell to the ground.

There are times that I have to remind myself of what I had the courage to say in that classroom nine years ago.

I made meat lasagna...but don't call me Joan Cleaver

If you read my blog long enough you'll notice that I love food and I love to cook. Whether or not I'm a good cook is up for debate. My husband always says he loves what I cook, but I have a sneaky suspicion that if I served him a dish with flies hovering over it, he'd declare it my best dish ever.
OK, I'm not bad. I think most of what I cook, I actually like myself.

Still, even if I doubt my actual cooking abillities, I love to try a new recipe. With time on my hands and the fact that no one in my house cooks, I have been on a cooking spree.

Last night, I made meat lasagna from scratch (nope, no Stovetop this time). I've always wanted to try this recipe because it looked so easy peasy...and it was!

My first attempt at meat lasagna (Personal Photo)

I used a meat lasagna recipe from one of my favorite food blogs, Wandering Chopsticks. It was a hit with the family and everyone said they loved it. It actually was pretty good!

One interesting note about this recipe is that WC says you don't have to cook the lasagna noodles before you bake it. I tried that, and when you first eat it after cooking, the noodles are definitely cooked...al dente, but cooked. When the noodles soak the sauce overnight, they become much softer.

In the future, I think I might modify the recipe a little with less meat (I ended up using much more than what was called for because I wanted to get rid of all the ground meat we had), less riccota cheese and more mozzarella.

As an avid tweeter, I had been updating my friends on my latest kitchen adventures. One teasingly remarked that it seemed I had become "little miss Joan Cleaver" since I had gotten married a month ago.

The remark made me uncomfortable. True, since I'm not working, much of my day is doing what housewives usually do and I love to cook. But I refuse to be seen as a housewife. I am not Joan Cleaver.

In my younger years, I used to diss the idea of being a housewife. I couldn't understand why you'd want to stay home all day. I thought being a stay-at-home wife and mother was so boring. Now, I understand why a woman would choose to dedicate her life to her family...I respect and honor it. I love, love, love my husband. We both want children someday, and I know my family comes before anything...but cooking, cleaning and taking care of a home is not what defines me.

So just because I'm married now and I like to cook for my husband, doesn't mean I'm Joan Cleaver. Don't label me with that stereotype, please. I'm much more than that. Much more. 

My First Post

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So here it is, my first post...

I had been contemplating what this blog will be all about, and with a background in communications and journalism, I pondered long and hard on how I would sell it. A travel blog? A food blog? A books blog? Pop culture? Mindless ramble?

How about all of the above?

I know not having a specific niche won't find me legions of followers, but for this blog, it's ok...because in truth, I'm writing this blog for my main audience...which is myself. Anyone else who has the patience to follow the personal musings of a newly thirty-something wife can come along for the ride.

I named this blog as an ode to one of my favorite novels, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. There's a section that goes something like this:

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would ...choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. "

Which fig did I choose?

I chose them all. OK, maybe not the fig with lovers with queer names or even the one with the Olympic crew champion...although I hope to have my own "Olympic" feat someday...

In my younger years (my single, twentysomethings), I lived life without much care to the future. I lived for the moment, I traveled to exotic places on my own, I was a journalist and an editor, writing stories on everyday heroes, covering celebs and going to parties, and I earned my Master's degree. Now, I'm 30, I recently married the love of my life and I'm at a crossroads.

Like millions of other Americans, I'm unemployed, looking for work and trying to live life despite not having a professional life to identify with at the moment.

I used to think life slowed down at 30. Once you were married and had kids...that was it. Say so long to life, to adventure...

But I'm not done eating the figs under my tree. There is more to my future.

So join me as I taste every pleasure in life and encounter the ones that are hard to swallow. Because life does not end at 30.

As Anthony Bourdain would say, "I'm hungry for more!"