In light of my recent post on changing my “writing style,” I am going to change it once again. Bear with me, this is quite short. I sought to endeavour excellence in my “writing” by having a week off each time I edit it. Although, it seems that I am quite impatient, and this “technique” that I designed is overly inefficacious. What I plan to do is to publish each post by parts. I would finish an entire piece, divide it by its introduction, body and conclusion, and then (and only then) will I start editing each part. This gets me to put out more content between editing phases, and it would lend me the opportunity to change aspects in parts that I have yet to publish. How is that so different compared to publishing it entirely? The answer is quite simple, my dear Watson. The more time I spend living with people, the more I learn about the world. Thus, I can write and edit more if I know more. To give you the benefit of understanding the twaddle that wreaks from my mouth, here’s an analogy. If I were to make three of the greatest pizzas in the world in one day, it would not be as impressive as making them one week apart. Why? Because I have time to learn how to make the succeeding ones better. Okay, maybe that wasn’t such a great analogy, but its the best one I could think of since I am craving for pizza.
The following is a journal entry for poetry class. We were tasked to write something about our favourite sounds. Hence, the title of the post The Sound: Coffee at 3 o’clock in the Morning. I’m taking up German, so please correct me if I’m wrong :D
There’s something about doing things extremely early in the morning; I don’t usually do things this early. Sleep is an essential part of me. I’m up at this hour because I needed to get things done, but my eyes are falling in on themselves. So, my best bet is to wake myself up with some cups of coffee. That right, cups of coffee, not a cup of coffee. Since 3AM is still pretty quite, what I hear is clear as crystal.
I pick up my step-ladder, trying my best not to make too much noise, but the metal legs still lightly scrape the marble tile floor, like a family of squirrels arguing which nut should go where. I climb up three steps and reach for the cupboard. I open it, and the wood and hinges disagree with each other. Any louder, then they would match my creaky wooden floor in my bedroom. I grab my French press and draw it toward me, I hit some of the china ware, but just slightly, and small muted bells ring in the air. Continue reading “Der Klang: Kaffee bei Drei Uhr in der Morgen”→
So I think I skipped my challenge yesterday… I was sick and I couldn’t get out of bed to get my cam and photo my soup, and I didn’t want to use my webcam ’cause I might’ve spilt it on the keyboards. So here’s what I kinda had todayFree taste fraps with my close friend and a cappuccino for me :P I had Dance afterwards, I needed the caffeine @.@
There’s this Japanese resto at Eastwood Mall Libis that I really, really, really love. So far I’ve only eaten there thrice, but after the third time, I decided not to go there anymore. So here’s a letter to my former fav Jap resto:
I fell in love with your ramen on the very first day you opened. Your “RBS #1” ramen really was the #1 ramen. Its soup was nice and thick and rich in taste. The meats were numerous and mouth-watering. The noodles were cooked to perfection. It was, for me the best ramen I ever had.
But, after a few months away from you, I decided to visit you on my 20th birthday. O’ how much you’ve changed. The soup was very transparent, they taste disappeared. It almost tasted like ‘instant soup‘. The meat number was cut in half, that was very disappointing. And the noodles were not as plenty as before.
Previously, I would be so full and satisfied with your food. Now, I find it dissatisfying and disgusting. It was water that had a taste of ramen soup in it.
Please, get back on track. Think about good food, not the money.
I hope you read this Ramen Bar; I really want you to win me back. But for now, ciao.