The idea of cooking for oneself has received a bad rap universally. It is not inherently evil to make and enjoy yourself an incredible meal, but somehow the society made it seems like it is. Well, f*k this.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Sunday, August 7, 2016
When I was eight in Burma, I was ridiculously, seriously, passionately into collecting fridge magnets with cartoon figures. I quietly store those magnets in metal pencil boxes in a little wooden drawer my mom gave me. Being an imaginative kid, I pretend that there is a ring of fire, an army of wizards and a big giant crab protecting my magnets. My brother tried to steal them? Oh please, he had no chance. But one day, I just woke up and decided that I didn’t like them anymore, and gave every single one away to my brother and my cousins. After I had given away, I felt no attachment whatsoever. Damn, my eight-year-old self was such a pro at letting stuffs go. There was no dilemma, no ambivalence. He knew he didn’t want them. He gave away -the end of story. He moved on to find the things he will like. He didn’t know what they are or how they will look like, but he was open-minded for possibilities. More importantly, that kid did not give a crap about what others people think.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
I believe that one of the greatest fears of my family is me starving alone in the United States. Even after my constant reassurance that I can actually make decent food, they are still skeptical. It is true that my family have seen my food posts on Facebook, but until recently, I realized that they thought I am googling food pictures and posting them. Well, I actually cannot blame them because I literally have never set foot in the kitchen back in Myanmar. I honestly don’t even know what the inside of my kitchen looks like back in Myanmar. But, still, I laughed so hard for a solid five minutes until my non-existent abs hurt. I just find it extremely entertaining that the idea of me googling and posting food pictures is more plausible for them than me holding a knife and actually cooking. (Way to have an absolute faith in me, mom). So, every time, a relative come visit California, my family would send loads of Burmese food that can easily feed a family of 10, in hope that I don’t starve. And, I am not even exaggerating.