Starvation & Lavatory Rendezvous, 2

According to some, starvation is the route to eternal bliss (read: death). However, my friends who preach the Gospel of Sivo (Self-Induced Vomiting) counter by saying that TSR (not Technical Service Rep, but Toilet Sink Rendezvous) is the route to aesthetic bliss. I’m somewhat neutral on the subject of starvation. I’m not really against starvation-as-weight-loss-regimen per se, but taking it to the extreme can be fatal.

I am not one to say that starvation is bad since I, myself, am not living a healthy lifestyle; I’ve been unconsciously and inadvertently starving myself. If you choose to deprive yourself of food to maintain or hit a certain target weight, and when you finally reach it, stop there. Do not desire for more pounds to be shed, because ultimately that will backfire. Complications may arise later on, and may affect you psychologically.

So be wary. Depriving your body all the nutrients needed would guarantee you a slot in your local necropolis. There are still other ways to chuck off that flab, but I’m not going to talk about it, there’s just too much of them.

One more thing though: Remember to cut back on the carbs, protein-loading, and lots of water. (Oh, and exercise.) Since loss of essential nutrients and fluids dry up the gray matter and would definitely escort you to something worse than death: idiocy.

I’m not pretending to be a health guru here because I’m far from being one. I just want you people to be extra cautious with your chosen weight loss regimen. Like I always say, “Whatever suits you.” Just be responsible enough to take care of that bod.

Anyway, it’s gonna be Hello Sisig for me later! I’m going to Dencio’s! Yay! Okay, I’m going to eat now.

Starvation & Lavatory Rendezvous, 1

Save for a couple of cheeseburgers, copious amounts of black coffee and coke floats, and five KFC brownies (Man, they’re so heavenly I could eat 5 of ‘em in one sitting!), I have not eaten real food for like days (more or less 96 hours)! In my current weight, I cannot afford to loose any more pounds. Otherwise, the wind could just easily lift me up and blow me all the way to Annapurna.

I’m quite alarmed, honestly. Given the fact that I have an über-active lifestyle and my metabolism can be likened to a million-dash marathon sprinter, I don’t have problems loosing weight. At a snap of the finger *finger-snap* just like that.

My friends are terribly distressed also. Well just half of ‘em, as the other half’s envious. No, make that offensively envious. In a matter of weeks, my weight had dropped by an 8-pound difference. They, of the Anorexia-Bulimia school, were so green with envy, since I have their ideal weight. Without even breaking a sweat!

Meanwhile the other half of my friends threatened to force-feed me if I couldn’t gain it back or if my weight would go down pa. They’re suspecting depression – AND substance abuse! Geez people, I’m not depressed (okay, just mildly depressed), and I certainly am not snorting stuff nor popping pills. That is so like two years ago! Ha-ha.

The reason behind my tremendous weight loss is plain and simple: time. I don’t have time to eat! And oftentimes when the opportunity presents itself, my taste buds would then shut down, leading to loss of appetite. I don’t know why this is, but yeah, it happens to me all the time.

Maybe my friends’ depression speculation was anchored on the fact that one of the symptoms of depression is appetite loss. I don’t want to repeat it, but I’ll repeat it anyway: I’m not depressed. More appropriately though, I’m no longer depressed; recovering at least.

(to be concluded…)

Espresso Dreams: Back in the Dooms

In daydreams I go back to Negros Oriental – the hum of the waters in Valencia, the beaches of Siaton and Guihulngan, the vast foliage expanse of Bais and Tanjay, the rustic charm of Dumaguete City, the spectacular marine life of the famed Apo Island … and a whole lot more.

But what identifies a mere tourist from a true habitué is the je ne sais quoi of Doomsville, term of endearment for those who call Dumaguete City home, or at the very least, have an intense love affair with the city.

Doomsville is a pleasant brew of the old and the new, an intermingling of the quaint and the fashionable, a mélange of the naive and the urbane and once you enter its realm, you’ll forever be in its thrall. Another thing that made people silly about Dumaguete is the whole café culture.

The café landscape of Dumaguete runs along an age barrier. The high-end coffee shops, like Coco Amigos, Mamia’s and Don Atilano, have the older generation as clientele. Here, you can observe glamorous albeit near-senescent women sitting around chatting about their apo’s, their haciendas and generally, times past; and it caters to expats too.

The other café scene is for the younger set, and can be categorized into three. First you have coffee shops for the non-smoking and the less adventurous kind. Lee Cimballi, Dunkin’ Donuts and Cafe Antonio to name a few. Here you can see students studying hastily for their next-hour-exams, or just folks who fancy ‘people-sighting’.

Second is the daytime café, where college studes and young professionals trot busily in and out, drowning their somnolent carcasses with caffeine. They also use this chance to temporarily get their minds off academic stuff and deadlines, to sip barako’s, eat quesadillas, play cards, sit together to chat, or simply, just to chill out. (Sted’s and Dumaguete Travel among others)

The ritual continues throughout the day, and soon, even the observer, becomes an integral part of daily routine. And with the setting of the sun, the scene changes into the night café culture of bars and rum-mills, giving a boost to sundown fun in the city. By this time, coffee is usually accentuated by a dose of alcohol, and more often than not, with a pack of smokes. No, more packs of smokes. Thus begins a relaxing and extended night with friends.

My history as a coffee monster stems from this small, unpretentious coffee shop along Silliman Ave called Cafe Memento. And true to its name, wherever one goes, one carries with him the memories and the home-ness of Doomsville.