Flashback Friday: The One I Want

Prose, 2005 — Another short story for this Friday post. A little trivia: back in 2005, I used the nom de plume First Class Fool. I heard it in a Joss Stone song and I thought it appropriate for my teenage self, being as I was unwittingly foolish at the time with the subject of love. Aren't we all though? Like the previous prose post, this one starts a bit sad but picks up towards a happier ending. I think this was me projecting my want of a happy ending for myself in my writing. 

The One I Want

She hurriedly ran towards their meeting place – that grove in the park where they would always meet back when they were getting acquainted with each other. She ran faster now, knowing that he wouldn’t wait for long. She nearly tripped as she came to a stop by the trees. He was standing with his back facing her. He was looking up the night sky, up to the moon. She didn’t know how to approach him. She didn’t even know if he wanted to talk to her. But she had to do it. She had to talk to him and let him know how she truly feels.

“Richard?”

He turned then, and her heart nearly broke at the sight of him. His blue eyes looked so sad – like he’d lost somebody… like he’d lost her. “Marie?” He sounded incredulous. It was as if he could not believe she was there. He opened his arms wide then and she came rushing into him. They embraced tightly, sinking into one another.

They withdrew from one another, and like before they looked up the night sky and up the moon. There was a peaceful silence then, and for a moment they were content. They were standing with him behind her, still embracing.

He spoke then, “How did it go?”

She stiffened a little, hesitating whether she was going to tell him what had happened. She had gone to a party where her sister and her fiancé, Brian, were the celebrants. She had decided to go to see, if there was still something left in her heart for Brian, to whom she was once in love with, but once Brian saw her sister, Elizabeth, he had clearly fallen love at first sight with her. So Marie stood in the sidelines watching their love grow and feeling so thorn apart about it. Until she met Richard.

Since she met him she smiled more often than not. She laughed. She learned how to have fun again. She was happy. But still there was a shadow of doubt lingering in the back of her mind and in her heart. So she went to the party just to see, and now she was here, with him, ready to take the first step in moving on.

“How did it go?” He repeated.

She was still quiet. He started to let go of her. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it…”

She turned to him. “I do want to talk about it! It’s just that I –”

“You what?” There was a hurt look in his eyes and she knew she could not deny him any longer.

She placed her hands on his cheeks and lowered his face so she could kiss him softly on his lips. She hugged him tightly and proceeded to tell him what exactly happened.

“I saw them together.” She began. “They were happy and all I could think about was –”
“How you should have been the one with him instead of her?” he supplied spitefully.

“No!” She exclaimed. “That’s not it, Richard.”

“Then what?” He said, his tone rising. “I mean when we first met all you could talk about was Brian and your whole heart ache!”

“No…” She said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I saw them together and all I could think about was you and how happy you make me. All that I’ve felt for Brian before – they are all gone, and all that’s left in my heart is you. I don’t want Brian… I want you.”

He kissed her then. Holding her tight as if he was afraid she would disappear at any moment. “I’m glad…” He whispered. “That you chose me.”

“I love you.” She said. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“I love you too.” He whispered back.. “Be with me?”

“Forever…” She whispered.

This has been a Friday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

Flashback Fridays: A Song with No Title

Songwriting, 2005 — Aside from writing poems and short stories of melancholic kind, back in '05 I also dabbled into song writing. This is just one of the songs I made at the time. I mostly partnered with a musician friend of mine to create music for the words I write. But I think I never got around to getting some music on this. 

A Song with No Title

Going through my head
Are the words we left unsaid
I know we left things badly
And now it ended sadly

But I know that we can make things right
If you’d give me just one night
If you’d just trust me again
Then our broken hearts could mend

If you could learn
To believe in me again
I promise I will stay
Forever in your arms
Forever in your arms

I can see it in your eyes
You’re afraid I’m telling lies
I’ve missed you so much
I can’t bear that we are apart

All I want is be with right now
I just don’t know how
If this goes on
I might not be able to hold on

If you could learn
To believe in me again
I promise I will stay
Forever in your arms
Forever in your arms

I know we can make it
Our love will grow stronger
But you have to feel the same way
Don’t leave me hangin’

This has been a Friday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

Food Escapades: Puto Cheese

After much debate on whether or not to bake (I was feeling lazy, even for baking), the kitchen saw the resurrection of some goodies last Thursday night. I had been craving for some puto cheese for a few days then and, rather than buy, my usual direction was to make them.

 

The recipe is fairly easy to do. All you need is flour of the cake-purpose kind, baking powder, white sugar, eggs, some water and, as I prefer it, a lot of cheese, cut, beforehand, into half-centimeter thick slices. You begin by mixing the dry ingredients together with water in a clean bowl. Once you’re done with that you can get start with the eggs.

 

For the recipe, you will only use the whites of the egg. Separate the egg whites without harming the yolks in any way you can; it’s very important that you don’t get any yolk into the whites. CAREFUL should be the resounding word in your head when dealing with egg yolk and white separation. You can try the basic technique of catching the yolk back and forth with the egg shells, just be careful not to burst the yolk’s protective membrane while doing so. Since I am a failure at this particular technique, what I do is catch the yolk with my hand and let the whites seep through my fingers into a bowl. It’s messy but it gets the job done. 

Once you’ve completed the egg white isolation stage of the recipe, you’ll need an extra bowl, a mixer, and some sugar. Use the mixer the beat the egg whites while gradually adding the sugar. The recipe calls for the whites to be “stiff and fluffy” so you’ll have to keep at beating until so that when you turn your mixer upside down, the mixture holds into stiff peaks. You can learn about beating egg whites here.

 

By now you’re ready to start folding your egg white-and-sugar mixture into the flour mixture from before. Mix them well until there are no more clumps and you’re almost done. 

Place paper liners on your molds (the molds I use are cupcake-like in shape and come in separate pieces, usually made of heat-resistant plastic or metal) and scoop the batter into them then top with the pre-cut cheese; I opt to put as many as the mold will hold without spilling the batter because the more cheese there is, the better.

 

Now all that needs to be done is to steam the puto cheese for a few minutes, let cool, then have at ‘em.

 

This has been a Thursday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

On Virginity and Sex

Virginity is quite a subject. On one hand, you are teased, even ridiculed, for being one, and on the other you are revered for being novel in a world where sex has become mainstream.

Most religions impress upon the importance of abstaining from carnal pleasures, wait for marriage, they say. Sometimes implying, and sometimes rather blatantly, that being a virgin makes you better than those non-virgin types obviously having sex all the time (I hope the sarcasm wasn't missed there).

I think people just get too invested on other people using their naughty bits for the purpose of fornication. As I am not tied to any religious beliefs, I'm fine with people having sex, as long as it's consensual and that  they very much understand what sex can mean to them and their partner. Mind you, your significance of sex can be different from others. And of course, don't be an idiot, use protection. The modern age is abundant with it.

Being a virgin is no big deal either. It just means you've never had sex and, for the ladies, that your hymen is intact, although sometimes that's not the case, especially for the athletic type. For me, it doesn't mean that you should be held at a different light, positive or negative, just because you are one. It's neither a good nor a bad thing; it's just simply being. 

This has been a Wednesday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

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