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For my graduation and birthday, one of my ninangs gave me some money and my mom suggested that I use part of it to buy something that will remind me of her. I immediately thought that vintage jewelry would be perfect thing to get. My ninang isn’t exactly one for old things but I have a strange fascination for secondhand objects–be it books, furniture, clothes, or jewelry. The older, the better (except for clothes). For some time now, I’ve been meaning to get myself a vintage jewelry piece–nothing too ostentatious or flashy so I can wear it everyday. I never seem to have the time and money to get one, but hooray for birthdays and college graduations!

At Tiendesitas, the place I always check out (after paying a visit to the cats in the Pet Market) is the antiques section, so that’s where my mom and I went to get me some jewelry. I was hoping to buy a piece with opals in it, but the only opal I saw was this huge, glittering stone that cost sixty thousand pesos. Ugh. After spending half an hour looking through the many pretty things in the shops, I finally decided on a glittery amber ring and an intricate turquoise ring.

I think this could be the start of a new collection. Vintage rings don’t cost as much money as I thought they would, and they defintely have more character than the jewelry available in your average, trendy mall store. When I get my first paycheck, perhaps I’ll pay another visit to the Tiendesitas Antique Market.

My birthday day was spent with members of the family gathered at our house for free food lunch. One of the inevitable lunchtime conversations centered around What Lauren Will Do After College. I had originally planned on responding with the most outrageous careers such as “funeral director”, or “greeting card writer”. My excuse was that the summer heat was making my head throb and the sweat dripping down my neck was my creativity, so all I could do was smile sweetly and say, “I really don’t know.” I’m sure everyone thinks my expensive college education has gone to waste. My cousins are going to be doctors, or members of the academe. Me, I have no fucking clue what I want to do with the rest of my life.

My uncle suggested that I try the Foreign Service Exam. When I was in high school I had romantic notions of becoming a consul, for the reason that I would get paid to see the rest of the world. When I was in high school I also believed in a lot of other silly things–nothing comes to mind right now but I’m sure they were pretty fucking ridiculous. In college, I learned that the Foreign Service Exam was not as simple as answering some written test or coming up with a bullshit essay on the Filipino diaspora or nationalism or globalization. The final test in the Foreign Service Exam is a party. A large, fancy dinner party, the kind where you have to get dressed like it’s prom and you walk around with a glass of red wine in your hand, smiling and making polite conversation with people you don’t know and people you don’t care to know. My uncle proceeded to narrate the story about how one of my other uncles passed the written exam and the interview with all the colors of the rainbow trailing behind him, but he had failed the Party Exam because all he did was sit in a corner instead of smiling and engaging everyone in small talk and basically acting like a sociable human being.

My dreams of becoming a consul were shot then and there. The only parties I love are the ones with a guest list that is composed of my closest friends, parties where I’m free to be as random and raunchy as I want, where my state of gone-ness is fucking entertainment, and where everyone will still love me even though I spent half the night reaffirming a gay friend of his gayness. I can’t stand social gatherings where I don’t know anyone, beccause then I’d have to behave like the nice, safe, likeable girl that people expect me to be and would want me to be. I’d have to go through great lengths in order for people to like me and walk away that evening thinking that I’m a normal human being when the truth couldn’t be further than that. Hell, I can’t even survive a family lunch without repressing the urge to grab a large steak knife and chase my kid cousins away from my room by brandishing it in the air. What more dinners and gatherings with hundreds and hundreds of people sharing the same oxygen in some fancy hotel function room, people from all corners of the world who probably have cultural quirks that will shock even the jaded me. Five bucks says I’d probably incite a war between the Philippines and some small, starving African nation because I tactlessly cracked a racist joke. (I’m not really racist so before you lash out at me for that statement, try to think back at a time where you laughed at a racist joke.)

Then the cheesecake came out and everyone took pictures of me blowing the candle while I made the same wish I always make, year after year.

I actually spent most of the day sleeping. Woke up just in time for the lunch, then collapsed into my bed afterwards, perhaps literally dead to the world as I had some crazy dream about being in some realm of the dead. The air conditioning was on but I was still sweating when I woke up. Goddamn summer heat.

And just because, I thought my friends’ birthday greetings were cute. Here and here.

After more than two weeks, the novelty of partying and being a hardcore bum is beginning to wear off. To alleviate the summer boredom, I decided to take it upon myself to learn how to cook my favorite dishes. I begun my domestication project yesterday when, out of nowhere, I suddenly had this strong craving for some carbonara. With no cookbook and only my instincts to guide me, I was able to whip up the perfect carbonara sauce. Not too creamy, not too salty, not too bland, and just the right amount of herbs. I was very pleased.

Tonight I attempted to make one of my favorite Filipino dishes–beef sinigang, with a little pork. Sinigang is a sour, tamarind-based soup with meat and a variety of vegetables such as kangkong (the green leafy things in the picture), chopped tomatoes, siling labuyo (a native kind of pepper), and maybe some okra. I like mine very sour and slightly spicy and for some reason, the household help couldn’t quite make the kind of sinigang that I like. My goal tonight was to figure out how to make the perfect beef sinigang from scratch, with absolutely no MSG.

Unfortunately I made my decision to cook sinigang at the last minute, thinking I could just go to the grocery and pick up fresh sampalok (tamarind buds). What I didn’t know was that supermarkets don’t carry sampalok; I’d have to go to the wet market for that. The household help was able to acquire a few buds from a nearby store, but it was far from enough. I resigned myself to an unhealthy meal and tossed in three Knorr tamarind broth cubes.

Again, I didn’t use a recipe and was only guided by my sense of taste and the instructions of the household help. The concoction I ultimately came up with was indeed quite sour; I had more than one serving and my parents seem to have enjoyed it. Still, it wasn’t the kind of sinigang that makes my tastebuds orgasm. I’m a little bit disappointed, but I suppose it takes a couple of tries in order to develop the perfect recipe. Perhaps I’ll try it again in a few weeks.

More on sinigang
Wikipedia entry on sinigang