i’m twentysomething and already out-of-breath

I just had a hellacious Monday at the office and knew I didn’t have any energy for sprints or even a jog. I thought to myself, “Self, why don’t you pick out an easy 30-min workout on YouTube?”

I thought that’s what I did. Little did I remember that I haven’t actually worked out in over a month. When you cross the mid-twenties and go into your late-twenties, stamina isn’t a given.

Shit. I have to work for it now.

Needless to say, this is a great free workout video that will kick your ass if you’re lazy like me. If you’re not lazy, warm up with it or something.


letter from a twentysomething failure

Most days, I come home from work, walk the dogs, and fall onto the couch. Well, even that is an overstatement. Instead of falling on the couch, I often find myself crouched next to my bed or in the hallway or in some other unusual spot in my apartment simply because when I reached that transitory area of rug, I didn’t have the energy to keep walking. I just lowered myself and remained.

This isn’t what I wanted for myself, this part that I’m trying so clumsily to describe. I have a career; it’s not the one I imagined, but until I find the inspiration to change direction, I would say that I’m happy with my work considering that I haven’t recognized a better option. The part that I don’t want may or may not be directly related to my career; I don’t know. It’s the part that comes after all the meetings and effort and hours at my desk.

I think I may have failed at life so far. I earned my degree, found a good job, support myself, but I have a feeling that people do all of these things and still have life left in them to make dinner, watch a movie, Skype with a friend, do laundry, and relax with a glass of wine. I don’t, and that’s why I think I failed.

I mean, for god’s sake, look at me now. I’m at my dining room table in sweatpants, and my hair has already been assembled into the most unattractive pile on my head. My mascara is running a little, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m starving, but I really don’t feel like making a mess in my kitchen and only have enough energy to think about how miserable I am.
I have good friends and a good family. Even my co-workers think of me as a friend, I think. But I’m tired of being the downtrodden, woe-is-me person that everyone knows. I’m in a self-induced isolation. I don’t want to call a friend to vent or to show up at mom’s house because I’m too lazy to make dinner.

So here I am, alone, hungry, depressed, and tired. I know that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, right? Well, done. But how do I find step two?

is it your job to interpret someone’s love, or is it theirs to speak your love language?

One of my closest girlfriends just left my apartment.  She meant to stay only for a few minutes, but that turned into hours.  That’s what happens with friends.

Our topic of discussion is one that I think many would benefit from considering: Is it your job to interpret someone’s love, or is it theirs to speak your love language?  If a woman (or man) feels unloved by a partners who loves them so dearly, who has the most power to remedy this unfulfilled need?  Should she have enough trust in him and in their bond to put forth great effort to interpret his words and actions into ones that ultimately come from love and, therefore, take responsibility for her own feelings of heartache?  Or should he learn to speak her love language and transform his love into something that she can naturally receive?

I don’t have the answers.  I read “that love languages book” in high school, but I’ve been challenged to read it again, and I think I will.  But I wonder what the layperson thinks.  Do men and women differ in their answers to this question?

found on facebook. guess i’m not the only one who watched home alone 2 last night.

This is funny, don’t-cha think?  Every year when I watch the Home Alone series, I’m totally on board with having it on my Xmas must-watch list.  It’s funny.  I love Macaulay.  What’s not to love?  But hey…I’m not one of those, I-try-to-sue-every-doctor-I-meet or I’m-reporting-you-to CPS-because-you-spanked-your-kid’s-bum, but let’s face it: Kevin has awful parents.  NEGLECT. Continue reading

filipino recipe: toge

Whenever I go to mom’s, she teaches me a new filipino recipe, I scribble it down, and then it’s lost forever. So this is the first post as part of Plan Learn-to-be-a-good-filipina-wife-while-sharing-these-yums-with-the-world.


Ingredients for 4 servings:
– 9oz fried tofu chopped into little rectangles (mom used Nature’s Soy brand from Gmart)
– 1/2 lb ground beef
– 16 oz bean sprouts
– 1/2 sliced onion
– 2 cloves minced garlic
– 1 tablespoon each of patis (fish sauce) & soy sauce
– black pepper to taste
– few sprigs of minced cilantro


1. Start to brown ground beef over med-high heat using a little bit if olive oil.
2. With just a little pink left to cook, add garlic & onion.
3. Once the onion is a little wilted, add tofu & half of the patis & soy sauce.
4. Once the tofu is warmed (only minute or so), add the bean sprouts, the rest of the patis & soy sauce, and the pepper, and stir fry until it just starts to wilt.
5. Turn the heat off, add the cilantro, toss to mix, and then plate! Mom and I eat this east steamed white rice, and I like to keep extra patis & soy sauce at the table to add while I’m eating. Enjoy!