domestic goddess

Of all the things I could do at home, I learnt cooking. Discreetly, so that people won’t actually notice. I’d sort of creep up behind my mom’s shoulder to see how much garlic she put in. On my way to the living room, I’d say “hi mom”, and cast a casual glance at her chopping board to see in which direction she cuts up the pumpkin. I’ve actually discovered that the amount of ingredients you put in has to be an odd number. 5 shallots, 9 garlic, and so on. But I’m not ready to succumb to superstition just yet. So a guest stopped by the other day, my aunt, for tea. Mom, out of the blue, suddenly asked me to cook up some Chinese green noodles for the guest. Shit, I thought. She either found me out and wants to put me to the test, or is just being plain mischievous. Poker-faced, I set about with the utensils like I’ve cooked Chinese noodles all my life. Boiled first, drained, then fried with a bit of garlic and soy sauce. Chicken slices for flair. Piece of cake. As the garlic started to emanate its amazing aroma from the bottom of the frying pan, I remembered I was reading something in my laptop which was far too interesting to be interrupted. I just had to check out that last sentence, just to make sure. Having satisfied my curiosity, I came back to the kitchen, where the garlic had turned brown, and its formerly heavenly, confidence-building aroma now had a slightly burnt tinge to it. The smell of failure. Still poker-faced, I threw out the burnt garlic, leaving the few remaining pieces of still-white ones, and delegated the task to mom, who was happy to take over. It turned out pretty okay, judging by the aunt’s polite ooh’s and aah’s. In retrospect, maybe I should’ve put in three cloves of garlic, instead of two.

Life in the metropolitan is tough. Was wondering if I should get that book, ‘a modern girl’s guide to life’. Have no idea what it contains, but the title suggests there might be something I’d be interested in. Not that I’m completely clueless in living a ‘modern life’, whatever that means, it’s that there are too many guides and references. Which to choose from, which to look upon as a standard? I wonder whether this is what’s usually referred to as being perfectionist. Because in order to compete, with all these professional people I encounter more and more frequently, you need to be a neat piece of package. I am personally of the opinion you have to be near-perfect. Why not? You don’t want to just go half way, you’d wanna go for the kill. Right? It’s fun really, keeps you grounded and striving for improvements. Keeps you dreaming of better things to come.
But I was playing piano today and it occurred to me that I’d never be a really good pianist. Simply because it’s not a priority. Sad isn’t it. I’m reminded of a quote by Bill Cosby: “I don’t know the key to success, but I know the key to failure is to try to please everybody”.

Apart from all that, tomorrow’s Saturday. Saturday’s are always worth looking forward to :)