Getting Going

There's a bowl of kimchi fried rice in front of me as I type this.  Each bite is being delivered to my pie hole on a magnificently too-large wooden spoon.  If you're wondering if it's the same wooden spoon with which I used to prepare my meal on the stove, you'd be right.

It's a wonder why I even bothered to transfer everything into a bowl when I could have eaten it straight out of the hot pan.  I'll tell you why: it is because, as my mother taught me, those are for cooking, not eating.  Only uncultured people eat out of pots and pans!  Now if you're wondering why, per the logical extension of my mother's wisdom, I didn't retrieve a clean spoon from the drawer once my meal was ready, it's because I was lazy.  This must mean that I am half cultured and half not.  I am a living contradiction.

This image tells the truth.  Life feels helter-skelter.  Not chaotic, but disorganized.  I'm calmly ignoring the mess by procrastinating like a champ.  Spending time here is so much easier than scrounging up the self-courage and motivation necessary to carve out a better life for myself.  Behind the browser tab for this blog post, a dozen other windows and tabs are open including some that show my résumé, cover letters, wedding gifts, bank statements, baby stuff (why are so many people having babies this summer?  Oh, right.  Hurricane Sandy.), and well, let's just say that I have a long list of things to do.  Actually plowing through that list leaves me feeling kind of pathetic; more weak and powerless than I'm comfortable with, probably because I feel like so little is within my control, that so much is out of my reach.

This stuff, it needn't be hard because it's only as hard as I make it, some wise men once told me.  While I work on processing that, it's comforting to know that at the very least, I'm cultured enough to know that I should always eat rice out of a bowl and never a pan.  The spoon, now that's apparently a different story.