Bleed Me Dry

Still fresh from Intrams, I was not ready to go to school yet. The previous week had gave such a lot of excitement. From the games to the dance competition, last week was really a blast.  But as fun as it was, it had to end and be revisited again next year.

My 450 mL of blood

Class had not started on time, which was only dragging everything along. When the teacher got to the room, there was no projector he could use. So, he assigned us to topics to report on another day. With less than an hour until my break started, the group planned out whatever we had to do for the report. And with that, my break had begun. With the impulse of a bored irregular student, I went to Red Cross to donate blood.

Blood donation was always a thing I had always wanted to do. And almost a year ago, I had done it. With the benefits of renewal of your RBCs and giving your blood out to those who really need it, there was no bad side to donating. Well, there is the pain of course. But, we'll get to that later.

The lady who bled me my first time I donated had given me a card to keep. The card was a small yellow paper with my name. It served as a record for how many times I've donated blood. The card collected dust for the most of the past year, but I had put it back in my wallet because I had the thought of donating more blood.

A week or two ago, a friend posted a status on facebook asking who were blood type B+ because her mom needed a transfusion. And seeing that I was healthy and eager to donate blood, I quickly responded. A day had been planned to finally go and get myself bled, but things didn't go well. I ended up not donating blood that day, another person had donated. And today, the mom is out of the hospital.

I would've donated a lot sooner, but the lady told me they were only open to blood donations on Mondays. Any other day, you would have to schedule an appointment or something. And for a while then, I had no time to go out from school on Mondays. But come my first semester of being an irregular student, I was finally available to donate blood.

Red Cross was a small building beside the Cebu Public Library, a landmark always associated with the facility. The distance between the school was not far. But after discussing it with some friends, I opted to take a ride going there because I might not be able to donate if I looked remotely fatigued.

There were steps to follow before donating blood. I remembered there only being three. What the steps say, I cannot recall.

First, I had to read a piece of paper. It stated the things I can't have done if I were to continue with the process. The most prominent rule of not being able to donate is having HIV, a rule I found appropriate. It also mentioned things about having a piercing or tattoo which were more or else standard.

After, they gave me a form. I had to check if the scenarios applied to me. Questions on the form were in a form of yes/no. It had questions like if I had cancer, or if I had drank alcohol within the past few days. Most of my answers were no, but I had ticked yes on lung problems and leaving the country. Leaving the country proved to be a problem when they had to ask a superior if I was able to donate, seeing that I left the country for a month or so. But it was quickly resolved and I was back on my way through the steps.

The only thing I had truly hated my first time donating was the lancet. The lancet was a small pin used to prick a finger so they could get a blood sample to determine my blood type and whether or not I was anemic. I had to relive this moment again earlier, and it hurt like hell.

After a quick check-up from the doctor there, I was ready to be bled. The place to do the bleeding was in a van parked outside the facility, which would have easily passed as a front for a small drug cartel. (But it's not, I think it important to mention that.) The reason probably for that was because the seats were reclined and they had arm rests.

So, I sat down and laid my arm on the rest. The person in charge of bleeding me quickly placed a pillow under my elbow and applied alcohol and betadine (povidone iodine) to make sure the wound would not be infected. She reached down to her kit and got the bag, the one where my blood goes, and attached to the end of it, the needle which was considerably long and thick.

She put on the tourniquet on my upper arm and searched for my vein. After she had located it, it was time to insert the needle. As she forced the needle onto my skin, the pain was a kind of weird. The oozing blood didn't help. The blood didn't go through the tube and into the bag. Instead, it spewed outwards and towards my white uniform, a thing that did not happen during my first time. The medical technician apologized and rushed to find a superior who had applied it properly. Things like that tend to happen when the vein gets hit directly, she said.

The actual bleeding took up to almost a half hour. I was given another sticker for my yellow card, a pack of orange juice and a band aid. After the whole process, I was told to sit back awhile so I wouldn't faint when I stood up. Well, I thought so. The guilty conscience of the lady made her clean my uniform. They had applied a NSS (normal saline solution) to rid the stain which worked. Clearly, they've done this before. One of them even said Hydrogen Peroxide would've worked better. Clearly. But in all fairness, they were nice. All of them were. A trait probably acquired from bleeding a person.




When I got back to school, I felt light headed. They had warned me to not look down as it would cause dizziness and/or nausea. But I urged on, school would end in a couple of hours anyway. Lunch was weird, things were happening that might have been caused by my blood loss. Either they really were, or my friends are assholes.

During my last class of the day, bored out of my mind, I challenged my friend to a game of chess. This friend of mine was a really good player having competed in the Milo Little Olympics when she was younger and in the school's own Intramurals. I had never beaten her ever since my liking to play better at chess. Until today.

The move that caused her downfall was really just her own fault. She had left her queen to be eaten by mine. Even without a queen, she still fought ferociously. But I proved victorious, if only the one time I would have been able to do so. Feeling robbed, she challenged me to another game. She won, but the feeling of winning against a better player never got away from me.

So, today I donated blood which inevitably gave me superpowers to win at chess.

It was a good day.

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If one donates a total of 9 times with the yellow card, he is called a galloner. After that, he may be able to donate every two months, rather than the usual three month gap.

New goal: Be a galloner.

Those living in the Cebu area who are willing to donate, healthy, and above 50kgs may be able to donate blood at the Red Cross office, beside the Cebu Public Library.

A Thousand Paper Cranes

A friend of mine, an avid fan of Japanese culture, told me about the Expo, and we met there. The expo showcased many different aspects of Japanese culture; the wearing of kimonos, calligraphy, among other things. One thing that really caught my attention was Origami, or the art of folding paper.

I already know one thing to make during that time, the traditional Tsuru or the crane. When I saw the small table where they were doing their Origami, they were doing the crane too, and a box, out of all things. Mostly simple origami, but still a beautiful art.

After seeing them, I bought sheets of origami paper. I didn't start then and there, but about a week after the expo. I had looked up videos on youtube on how to make some simple designs. The two most prominent Origami folders were Jo Nakashima and Tadashi Mori. Shout out to those two for sharing their expertise to the less inclined, I had learned much from both of them.

As a relatively beginner, I only looked on videos that usually did not last more than ten minutes. There was a tutorial about making an Origami dragon that piqued my interest, but the video last almost forty minutes. There was this one video that only lasted up to eight minutes, but it took me almost an hour to assemble. Needless to say, I forewent learning the dragon and opted to go for simpler designs.

As I mentioned earlier, there's a design that I took almost an hour to make, and that was the Magic Rose Cube. The magic rose cube tutorial video (which you can see here) is short, but you see in the video that you actually require three of each piece that he shows you how to make. Although it took me a while to finish, the end product was beautiful. 

Then I continued on to more designs, with a Peace Dove, a Neko Cat,  and a Zerg Hydralisk, which I thought was pretty cool. Considering that the Hydralisk was created from a Tsuru. Whoever created the design was a very creative individual.

Kotobukizuru

Origami has been a long tradition in many other countries, but as we know Japan is the most popular one. Origami stems from the two words "ori" which means folding and "kami" which means paper. And it dates long enough that no one actually knows when it really started.

As I mentioned earlier, I had only known how to make the Tsuru, or the crane. It is one of the most popular designs in Origami, so much so that there's a legend behind making the paper crane. It is said that if one successfully makes a thousand paper cranes, he is granted one wish by a crane, one of the mystical or holy creatures in Japan. And it is said that the crane can live for up to a thousand years. Or so it says.

Traditional Tsuru

There is a story in Japan of a girl named Sadako Sasaki (not related to the ghost in The Ring) who was very sick. She was dying, in fact. Stricken with leukemia, the girl had only one wish: to live. And so she started folding paper cranes in hopes of completing a thousand and being granted a wish. But, Sadako, weak from her disease, was unable to continue. She was only able to make 644 paper cranes before passing away. Friends and family continued on and buried the thousand paper cranes with her.

This story touched me in a way that I want to make a thousand paper cranes, in honor of Sadako. From then on, I started making more paper cranes and littered my room with them. I'm far from a thousand, but I'm gearing towards there.

Hopefully, I'll be able to get that wish.

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Paper Lily

This is our cry. This is our prayer. Peace on Earth.
 これはぼくらの叫びです　これは私たちの祈りです　世界に平和をきずくための


Sadako Sasaki, Rest in Peace.

Peacock

Peace Dove

Neko Cat

Zerg Hydralisk

Swan

The Dreamer

Inception had been my favorite movie since it was released. Being the first movie I've seen on the IMAX theater(that big ass screen), it certainly was memorable. The movie's plot, being about dreams and manipulating them, piqued my interest even more. It was also directed by one of the most critically-acclaimed directors out there, Christopher Nolan.

The movie, centric on dreams, was one of the more original movies I've seen, ever. I've seen it on IMAX, as well as in the normal theater, and 4 or 5 times again at home. Every after I watched it, I had always wanted to dream the way they did. Although such machine is unavailable (or that I know of), lucid dreaming is very much possible.

I've seen many an article about lucid reaming and it's a very difficult process. But really the main thing about it is you have to practice real hard on your memory. You have to keep a dream journal right next to your bed, so when you do wake up right after a dream, you immediately write everything you remember.

My friends are naturals at this. They are more adept at remembering the dream, close to every detail. Unlucky for me, I am not the same. Granted, there are certain dreams that I do remember. But I don't remember every  little thing in the dream, I remember only bits and pieces.

I had this friend who told me about his dream. The first thing he remembers about the dream was that he was at his high school, only every friend he ever had was there too. Then somehow the dream drifted off into a beach setting, and he was bringing a car, my car. And I remember him telling me that he was pulling it with a string through the sands, like a toddler pulling a toy car. Then at some point, he had realized that he was dreaming. A few moments after that, he woke up.

That's how lucid dreaming is, you become aware that you're actually in a dream. And that's what I want to accomplish. I've had this experience only once, and it was just like my friend's. A few moments after I noticed myself dreaming, I had woken up.

When and if you become more adept to lucid dreaming, you can begin to manipulate the things around you. As in The Architect in the movie. I only had this experience, but it felt weird. Whenever I wanted to control something, it resisted. It could be that, or that was just really the dream.

For the past week, I had started writing down my dreams. Only not really writing them, I would text them to myself and save it in a dreams folder. It started when I woke up in the middle of the night, and from that point on, I remember my dreams most of the whole week.

The texts I save sound really cryptic when I read them. I really don't know why I dream about it. That's one thing I love about dreaming, the randomness of it all. You could be anything or anyone, at anywhere or everywhere.

The first dream I had involved a mutual friend dying, my car being in an accident, a friend telling me I was like his ex, and something about facebook. I don't really remember why, but somehow my car was a Mazda. That's the only thing I remember clearly. I'm not even sure if it was my car that was in the accident.

Second day, I only remember a question. I'm not even sure if I was the one was asked the question or that if it was a girl I was interested in. She/I asked if I/she use her/my terms when I/she went on our own dates. And the reply was a quick no. The third day, I remember someone telling me, that she sings a better song on a piano.

The fourth day was especially nice dream, or so from what I remember. I was stranded in a room with a girl. We were in two different double deck beds, and the room was flooded. It looked like a classroom. In the flooded room, there were these notes floating around. They felt like messages in a bottle, without the bottle. The dream itself as I remember was nice, other than the fact I remember something about someone dying. And as I texted it to myself, I spelled it as Justin Thoureaux. I got curious if someone is named that, then turns out there is a Justin Theroux who played Leezar in Your Highness, a movie that I saw the day before.

The rest of the week was really nothing at all. I saw an old friend, a bitchy friend was being friendly. Things do really feel strange when we're in a dream, but you won't know that until you wake up.

I read an article once that when you dream at night, your brain is actually "organizing" your day. So there may be subtle signs in there about your day or whatever it is that's bothering you or making you happy. And when things get too emotional, you respond, like really crying.

So, what is it that my mind is telling me?

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Never recreate places from your memories, always imagine new places. Only use details. A street lamp or a phone booth. Never entire areas. Building a dream from your memory is the easiest way of losing your grasp on what's real and what is a dream.

And They Drowned Us All

Tests always get me down. When they do come around, I end up procrastinating. Not doing much the night before. And the next day, there's an actual "going to study" motion, but no real effort to. It didn't help that it was very hot when I went on my way to school.

So, I took the test and probably failed. Sad to say, it was not the first time I would have failed, but considering how and where I am now, I'm not doing so bad. The day progressed as any normal Wednesday, lecture then laboratory classes after lunch.

With a fused class, the room where we had our laboratory class was pretty crowded. Hence, it was pretty humid in that area. We began to notice the room had gotten pretty dark, a sure sign of rain. Plus, more of the humidity. When we got outside the room to take a breather, it had only started to drizzle. This was about 4:30pm.

At 5:00pm, it rained hard. The breeze was cool and I enjoyed the cold air. Outside the laboratory, the shed was available to seek shelter under. So, a few of my classmates did, and so did I. Some others went up to the classrooms, some others went straight home hoping they'd beat out the rain.

As we stayed under the shed, the other laboratory room was slowly filling up with the water, with classes still going inside. The water had risen only about the height of their shoes, but most of these students were girls. With the slippery floor and the running water, they were a hazard to themselves. So, as gentlemen, two of my friends and I moved the bench to serve as a bridge from the laboratory to the shed. Although a little hesitant at first, we managed to move two benches, but getting very wet in the process. Two people thanked us for that, and both of them were our friends, a little gratitude would've been nice considering we were risking getting sick for them to pass on through safely.

After all that, I had gotten a text from my mother telling me not to go home yet, the house was flooded, and I wouldn't be able to get there anyway. The three of us decided to go up to the classrooms and join our other classmates who were waiting the rain out. Few minutes later, I went out of the room and continued on to the main entrance, where it was very crowded with students unable to go out in the rain. The rain was not as strong now.

Still, with the command of not going home yet. I had time to kill, until my mom texted me again. So, I texted a friend of mine to ask if I could seek refuge in his boarding house. And that I did, I stayed awhile, got dried a bit, and did a bit of yoga. The text arrived soon after, and I was headed home. The rain was slower, but during my time in the boarding house, the rain shifted from fast to slow, and from weak to strong. It took me a while to get on a jeepney though, people always crowding every time a jeepney stops, always trying to get first. I don't blame them, I would've done the same thing, which I probably did.

Getting home also took a while. With everyone trying to get home, the roads were packed, traffic in both directions. The rain was much more accommodating this time around, which made it okay for me to just walk from the corner of the street(my house is probably a 10-minute walk from the corner.) The road was a winding path with a downward slope before getting to my house. When I got to said downward slope, and as I made my descent, I saw cars trying to get to higher ground, some fighting their way through the vast body of water. The flood was not exactly at the bottom of the slope, I would think that that part was a deeper road, that's why it filled up with water.

When I finally got to the bottom, I made my way towards home. I met a friend who told me that the water had risen at very high levels, and that the water had surely gotten inside my house. But I didn't mind it, I thought this was like earlier floods I had experienced, once or twice before, since I started living with my grandmother. As I drew nearer, I met another friend, a much closer friend this time. He told me that he made his way to check on my grandmother to see if she was okay. He narrated how high the water rose from walking from his house to mine, his house is farther from the village entrance. From his house, it started from his feet. About halfway there, it was up to his knees, then to his hips. When we got to my house, he basically swam getting there. The water had risen up to his chests. And this guy is a little taller than I am. So, the water is probably almost five feet high outside our house.

My friend and I made our way through the village entrance, and he told me that the roads had been badly damaged, which was very apparent, that things in the house were swimming, and how our friends car wasn't parked in the same spot anymore.

To better understand the passageway, I have to explain how the village is set. The village is divided into "phases," my house is built on the very first one. I would think that this is one of the oldest houses in the village. And "phase one" is formed like an oval, like a track field. When you enter the village, there are two ways to get to my house. The quicker way where I just turn left from the entrance, go up a couple of steps  and head on to my house, and the longer way where I have to turn the whole "oval" to get there. The steps on the quicker way is built like a dam, to keep water out.

The view of the quicker way to the entrance was less engaging. I could no longer get in without getting my pants wet, so we took the longer route. Along the way, I saw a friend shouting that my car had also been affected by the flood. As we marched on to my house, still being accompanied by my friend, I saw my car filled with water on the inside, and my stuff toy hanging from the windshield was nowhere to be found.

My friend dropped me off at my house, and when I got inside, there was more water inside than outside. Well, at this point in time, considering most of the water from the outside made their way through their respective drainage. Thinking ahead, the outlets were cut off power from the main circuit breaker, rugs and shoes were placed in a higher place. Basically nothing valuable was wet, well, except the car which was parked away from the house to prevent such circumstances.

It was dark and neighbors were busy getting water out of their houses. And being the only viable candidate to do job, I pressed on. Granted, not before changing my facebook status. Nevertheless, I changed into something more comfortable and started, quickly opening clogged holes to get water from the inside out. This was 7:00pm.

With nothing to eat, but a few snacks while waiting out the rain earlier, I opted to have dinner. My grandmother too, had not eaten because she was unable to. Due to her diabetes, she was unable to either help(she only gave out instructions) or cook dinner for herself. (The kitchen was filled with water up to the knees.)

The water from inside the house was visibly getting less in quantity, LPG containers that once floated now stood steady on the ground, the floor on higher ground began clearing. All that was left of the water was the dirt. And I started work on it, right after I had my fill. Soon after, reinforcements arrived.

And with the combined help of three people, we made progress. Making our way from the back of the house to the front, as to assist the water to move out. At around 12:00mn, we stopped and called it a day, much has changed since the flood came in the house. Even after four or five hours of work, it wasn't exactly as clean as before, but it was there: progress. My grandmother then treated us to pizza. Would I say that four or five hours of endless sweeping and mopping worth a 9" pizza? No, not at all. But it was better than nothing. So there's that.

The only thing that I'm really bummed out about is the fact that I don't have a car to drive with, for the time being. And so is my plush toy which I treasure. Hopefully, we can get the car back into driving shape, so I can ravaged the roads once more.

Oh, the rain. What a love-hate relationship we have. Next time, don't try to ruin my car. Seriously.

Charge It to Experience - What a Day It Has Been

Yesterday marked the most WTF moment of my life, so far. "So far," as if I want it to happen again. But you can't help it. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or  don't make lemonade. Make life take back the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons! What the hell are these?! Demand to see life's manager! Make life rule the day it thought it could give me lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's gonna burn your house down! WITH THE LEMONS! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that BURNS YOUR HOUSE DOWN! Or whatever. Shit happens. 


Anyway, back on topic. Most of yesterday was impromptu. The only real thing planned was the jam with my friend Michael, and his bandmates. But they were at a meeting and I had nothing to do before I met with them. So, I went to Ayala and killed some time. 

I was just walking around really, until I texted a friend of mine who said that he was there, Kelly. We met up, chatted a while, and I left for Sacred Heart, my old school's old campus. I was urged by my friend to go there, because she was alone accompanying a friend of ours who was trying out for futsal (indoor soccer). Again, impromptu. It helped that she said that there were a lot of "chx" there. Stayed awhile, then left. The same as earlier.

Then I head to Michael's house. They finally finished with their meeting. And I drove to his house. Killing time was really exhausting, which rendered me very thirsty. And without a decent spot for me to park in, Michael told me to park in the garage. I had to drive up a small ramp. In a rush, I got out and asked Michael if I could have a drink of water. We got in his house and I drank two full glasses. When we got out, my car wasn't parked in their garage anymore.

To my dismay, I had forgotten to pull up my handbrake, which I normally really do. I'd love to say that I was disoriented due to dehydration. And I'm sticking to it. No, I didn't crash my car. Hell, I wasn't even in it.

All joking aside, it was a good thing that no one was hurt in the accident. I can't say so for the plants though. They were very brave and they died with honor. Or still trying to survive. I'm not sure if they still are, alive that is. But when I tried to get out of the ditch the crash created, it felt like I was still hooked on to something and I had to really push on the pedal to get out.

Lucky for me, the owner of the house was very nice. And even though her beautiful plant box had been destroyed, she considered that my car too, was damaged. We worked out a plan to just have the box fixed as soon as we can. Some other person would have made me pay on the spot, put on emotional charges or some other shit he can think of.

After all that, we couldn't forget the main reason I was there in the first place, to jam with Michael and company. We still did. And it was fun, but we were all cramped up in this tiny space. It got hot very fast.

When we got to Michael's house, it finally dawned on me that I was in an accident today. It's a good thing that there are no clearly visible dents on the car. So, I went home and got to bed. And acted as if it never happened and charged it to experience.

Damn lemons.

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If you're wondering, the thing about the lemons is a reference to Portal 2. It is said by a dying Cave Johnson.

Introduction to Film - Something to Blog About

My memory is a little hazy, but I remember always being in love with film. All the processes that's involved with making a movie, and the like. The only thing I don't like is probably pre-production. Well, other than script writing and casting, the only real hassle about pre-production is getting greenlit, which isn't really much of a problem for me anyway. Only real filmmakers get the chance to go through the hassle of waiting to get greenlit.

There are really only three processes, pre-production, production, and post-production. I've learned this by watching the Academy Awards, or the Oscars.  I remember Hugh Jackman explaining it in segments as the show  went on. Even though the show wasn't live, I still watched it. I didn't mind.

I have a very distinct memory of going to watch a movie when I was very young. I remember my mom telling me to say I was 7, so I was probably NOT 7 at the time. So to get in to the theater, I had to lie to those people collecting the tickets. Well, being not older than 7, I couldn't lie. I mean, I was too little to bluff. My poker face was a little off then. If I pulled it off back then, I think it would have been an awesome experience, or it could have probably scarred me for life. The movie was Batman. And just to be clear, no, I didn't get to see it.

For as long as I can remember, I watched TV constantly. I mean, what child wouldn't be. And with the birth of the internet, I forgot about the TV and stuck to my monitor. When I wake up in the morning, I just flip open my laptop's lid and resume whatever I was doing the night before. That's right, I don't turn off my laptop. And the television in my room is never on, so electricity evens out, I would think.

My first real exposure to film and being behind the camera or director's chair was when I was in fourth year high school. We were given a project to make a short film about Rizal, but it had to be like a news segment. So, a short news segment about Rizal. The filming took place most of our Christmas break. I remember the groupmates meeting up at Starbucks before heading out to our "set."

Post-production followed soon after. The deadline of the project was after our Christmas break, but I had finished it in time to show my fellow groupmates what all the hardwork they put in looked like. All of us enjoyed it, but it could not compare to the days that we spent filming.

All the time and effort I put on to this one project could reflect the suckiness of my other one. You see, we had two of these filming projects, both due after the Christmas vacation. With less manpower, we did all we could. I was not proud of this other project, but on the other hand, I had the short news segment to fall back on. After all, we got the highest score out of the batch. Macbeth and those witches could give it a rest.

When I got to my second year, we had another project. Not a film this time, but a short play of the Ramayana, if I remember correctly. But another group were doing a film. My group opted to stick to a short play to minimize expenditures. For a time, I had forgotten why exactly, I was with a camera. The same camera used to film the other group's short movie. And I decided to play around with it.

It chronicled what everyday life was at the "Velez Jungle." Velez is the name of our school, and it's filled with so much plant life that we call it a jungle. This was an inside joke to almost every student at Velez. It still is today, but due to increasing number of cases of Dengue, some trees were cut down. But the essence of the Velez Jungle is still there.

From hours of playing with that camera, it seemed fun to do another film project. It featured very candid, unscripted moments with me parodying Steve Irwin-esque persona. Sucks that I couldn't (and still can't) pull off the accent though. I had it shown before the group's own film presentation. My short film acted as a trailer for the group. It was a fun experience "living" behind the camera.  If you wanna see the video, scroll down below!

On other things, the next year, a groupmate of mine from the Rizal project had her own little thing. Although I couldn't sit on the director's chair, I went to the editing room. And getting paid in the process. Not bad, sir. Not bad at all.

Over the couple of months, I would do a little editing here and there. For my own purposes or others. Helping others for our little events, like our acquaintance party and our general assembly (which was a bust, not on my part though.) But I'm still waiting on that big project to surface.

Maybe an actual Velez Jungle movie? Anyone?

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Indio Productions Presents: The Velez Jungle Trailer

Pâtissier's Good Company

Throughout the months I've been baking/making pastries. I've somehow put off giving some to my closest friends. Friends that made my high school life memorable. And I thought why not, it's not always we see each other. And in the span of two months of free time (summer), we didn't see each other. Well, aside from occasional hi's when we pass by each other at a mall or at an event.

It's not really our fault that we didn't see each other at all during our summer vacation. For the first month, I was away, out of the country, and I can't say if they had fun without me. In which case, if they did, they're gonna pay for it. Just kidding. And just when I was heading back to the motherland, someone from our group left for the States, as well. Nice going, Lys.

Numbers in our small band of friends have diminished over the years. Slowly, one person would leave our group. Justin left for Canada, and some others just left. Simply put, they found other friends. It's not the same knowing we've gotten smaller and smaller, but spending time with these people have always been a delight. A night with these guys have always set me wanting for more.

Last night, the gang finally got together. Missing only our one friend, Alex. And I made something special for them.

I've always had a fascination to baking. And over the couple months of making many a pastry, I've always craved about making a Cookie Dough Pie. I saw one from an article from Yahoo!, but when I searched and searched for the recipe for it on the website. I couldn't find it. So, I googled it. Pop one that looks and sounds better, behold the Cookie Dough Cream Pie, c/o Love and Olive Oil.

What's the difference? The Cream. Duh.

So, the night before, I made the pie. If you want the recipe, click here.

Sorry for the picture quality, I had no better camera

Started out with the crust.



Everything was going well, until I forgot to actually bake the crust. Baking the crust is essential to give it that crunch, and it'll help retain it's shape. I've made a no bake cheesecake a while back, which gave me the idea that I didn't need to bake the crust. Well, lesson learned.

Mixing the cookie dough

Next thing to do was the cookie dough, the highlight of the recipe. I had some left over mini chocolate chips from making muffins, so I really didn't spend much on making it. And these things were eggless, so you could just eat it straight from mixing. Or, that's what I read. After putting about half of the cookie dough on the crust, I still had some left. More on that later.

Then some kind of pudding, layered on top of the cookie dough. Then the cream. I had some problems with the cream though, it wouldn't make peaks, that just gave me a headache. So, I thought, whatever. I'll make it better next time. Promise.

Here's how it looks like:

Already half eaten, my friends enjoyed it. Or so they told me. I went home with some still on the plate, decided to pass by my friends house to give him what was left of it.

Thanks Love and Olive Oil. Next thing on my list is a Chocolate Chess Pie. But that's for another special occasion.

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Leftover cookie dough? Roll it up into balls and coat with something good! Coated it with the leftover pudding from the pie. I wanted to coat it in chocolate, but it got burnt. Oh well. Pretty good anyway. Recipe for the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Truffles, the inspiration for my Cookie Dough Pudding Pops, here.

These things would look so much better with lollipop sticks.