I found myself indulging to one of its delectable dish, the chocolate chip waffle. It was breakfast. What could be better than having your breakfast at the Pancake House? :)

I remembered one of my colleagues telling me its humble beginnings. Indeed, it was one of the most inspiring stories I have ever heard. The pancake tycoon, whose business sells like pancakes-no puns intended, was a hardworking mother.

Back in the 90's, Mary had to sell pancakes by the street. She had been doing this since her husband had left her and she had no money to send her three kids to school. She was willing to do anything to earn money. She starts her Pancake business at six in the morning, and end it at seven in the evening.


Thankful to God that she had enough for her kids' tuition fee, she always end the day starving. She would give her share of dinner to her three kids.


One day, her eldest daughter did not come home. She had only received a letter.


Ma, I am sorry I could not come home. Ma, I am sorry... I am pregnant. Don't worry, Ma, my boyfriend says he'll take full responsibility. His family is rich enough to support me and my baby. I'll come home some time soon...


Her mother was shocked. She was disappointed, as any mother would feel. She replied to her letter, but didn't know where to send it.


Years came and the eldest daughter had not come home yet. The rest of Mary's children had their own families and found a way to contact their sister. Mary was on her deathbed. Her only wish was to send the letter to her eldest daughter, that wrote:


Dearest daughter,
I know that you are ashamed of me, not introducing me to the father of your daughter, not letting me join the PTA's, not bringing your friends in our little house. I am sorry that you have a mother who makes a living by selling pancakes in the street. I am sorry that I cannot give you all the things that you want. But through every pancake that I sell, I think about you and your future. There's is nothing more important to me than your future. My job is not as noble as a doctor or an engineer, but it has done the same thing. It has provided you with food, shelter and clothes. I love you.
Your mother


The daughter received the letter. She had regrets, but she knows that she can't undo the past. With her husband, she decided to build a bistro honoring her mother's bestselling pancakes. Nowadays, it made it's way to being the most reputable pancake utopia in the Philippines. Behind the pancakes and waffles, lies a great story of a loving mother.


HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY:)

Note: This is simply fictional. :) I'm glad I'm writing again, eventhough it's not that good.:)

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Friday, May 02, 2008

Confessions of a Bipolar

No, there's no need for you to read this. No, there's nothing to be afraid of. In fact, I was not diagnosed with Bipolar-what-you-call-it. It's not even serious and maybe, I am just living a normal teenage love-hate life.

Can you keep a secret? I am binging on food. Yes, I binge eat but I don't throw it up. I do this because food makes me feel secure. I have been indulging sweets and other whatsits since I experienced my biggest failure.

See, I have two sides. Sometimes I get happy, giddy and free. I make the most out of life knowing that I am the Queen of the world and no one can stop me. But then, when I look back, I feel this inevitable pain in me. I feel so insecure that sometimes, I wished for my own death. I would do such things to myself and I would cry out for every stupid thing I did. I kept on asking myself if I was good enough for my family, my friends. I turn into an ugly monster. It's like I was squeezed and pressured to get into this little box.

Yes, a classmate may have jokingly suggested it to me. Yes, I may have become paranoid when I knew this 'disease'. Yes, I may believe every little thing others say about me. Yes, I know that I should not get it to me, choking me like a toxic, but I know for sure that I am judged by what I do, and that through every judgement, I find myself.

I guess everyone has two sides. Happy-sad, angel-devil, superior-inferior. It's part of our system. Though, a bipolar could've exaggerated the- say, 'sad' part?

Being a (pretend) Bipolar has taught me a lot. It has taught me that one's ego is controlled by one's self.

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