Cooking for One

I had Laing for dinner. I fried it with Olive oil to make it seem more exciting, like a dollop of character added to a black and white silent cartoon like Felix the Cat. Actually, I don't know why I compared Laing to old black and white animation.
All I'm saying is, I don't like cooking dinner. I'm not sure if I just don't like cooking or I don't like cooking for myself alone.



I live alone by the way, thus the cooking out of a can. It's the first time I can actually say I'm living alone. I have lived overseas a couple of times before, and I suppose technically you can call that living alone. I was away from most
things familiar and safe--most of all, I was away from family. But that kind of independence seemed forced; I had no choice but to live alone because I was based outside my country. This time though, I had a choice. I work 23 km from my house, but I can drive everyday. It's not like I'm not used to the hellish traffic of Manila (Ok, I lie, I still hate it to the bone). Still, I decided to move out. I now live in a studio condo near my work.

I'm basically adding an increase of 20% to my monthly expenses. I now have to commute like most people, I have no help to clean up my place, no one to cook my food, and I am apart from the best male in my life right now, my 5 year old Shitzu Frappy. But I've never been more content and peaceful whenever I come home. After I lock the door behind me in my small 30sq meter studio, I feel instantly calmer. I could almost imagine literally leaving my mental baggage outside the door, or even outside the condo building.

There is nothing like being alone that makes you find yourself more and more each day. So right now, I'm still finding out if I just don't like cooking, or if I don't like cooking only for myself. I'm sure I will know sometime soon.