So here’s the thing.
I don’t really have a plan anymore. I had one. And believe me, it was flawless. A 10-step guide to taking over the planet. A tutorial to world-domination. “The how-to-make-it-as-Meg-blueprint: your sure-fire way to making your mark today.”
But it since has come to a spluttering, potentially flammable, possibly explosive, ground-shaking, earth-quaking, full-throttled, club-light flashing, seizure-inducing, spoon-bending stop.
…Houston/Maggie, we have a problem.
Here’s the issue as it stands. Perhaps you can relate. Also– I’m hungry so everything I say after this point will have subtle food undertones. Adjust your metaphorical imagination accordingly.
As someone merely waddling through this time in my life, hap-hazardly making ends meet and throwing my omelette of existence onto the societal skillet in a way I hope will be appetizing and more importantly, edible; I feel I can confidently say, often the best ‘laid’ plans end up giving us lesson-related salmonella poisoning.
In other words, if you got a bunch of eggs in a basket, and you’re like MAN, I am going to go home and make a bomb-ass omelet with all these delicious eggs, and then you get home and realize, actually… these are kind of like chicken abortions. That’s kind of gross/sad. Also full of mucus. I can’t eat these! I should really bury them. BUT THEN you’re already like BUT I got these eggs for my omelet! I gotta commit man. I got to keep with my plan. And I should eat them because I said I was going to. And so then you do anyway, and then you get really sick and almost die. And you’re like shoot. I should have just had oatmeal, yo! There is no animal byproduct in that and I wouldn’t be on my death bed right now from chickens that never got to form actual bodies. Sigh.
….THAT, my friends, is life lesson-related salmonella poisoning.
And the above is an example of what happens when we’re so passionate to the point of borderline delusion to committing to a path we think is so very clearly laid out in front of us. And we’re so convinced it’s the right one, because we want so desperately to be on some path, any path, DIRECTION IN GENERAL that we often misread the signs RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR FACES telling us that yo, b/t dub kid, this cereal ain’t lookin’ like what the packaging promised.
And maybe that’s because we don’t really even want cereal anymore. Maybe we never wanted cereal in the first place. Maybe we want a breakfast burrito and we’re just trying to be healthy and eat something with a lot fiber instead but really honestly who actually enjoys eating bran?
And we’re all sitting here, crunching along like a good adult does, 5 chews on each side, thinking about political issues and our utility bills and being a professional and swallowing and thinking, Wow. I can actually feel myself getting more boring. I can actually feel this cereal sucking the happiness out of me. I don’t like this cereal. Why am I doing this?
And maybe some people can eat the cereal continuously day-after-day, week-after-week and really come to enjoy the texture, and the taste, and the benefits that come with eating a shit-ton (pun intended) of said cereal. But maybe I’m not one of those people. Maybe I’m not cut out to eat bran cereal every day.
And just like that, my plan is called into question. Who am I to bend to a breakfast system that goes against my very taste buds? Who am I to abandon my love of cheese and grease entirely for something seemingly more nutritiously responsible? I see your soybean oil, Grape Nuts! I see your made-up scientific ingredients! Your cardboard box. Your plastic bag. Your little gravely balls of evil throat-scratching fiber pellets! And I refuse to eat another bite. I’m putting my spoon down. Not in white flag defeat, but rather to pick up my napkin, tuck it under my collar and bite into my burrito in defiant treason. I am not what I eat. I am more than breakfast decisions. But I at least get to make those decisions for myself.
And so on that note, on a much bigger non-egg, non-cereal, non-breakfast related scale, I am not taking a step-back or a step-forward. I am merely sitting. Reevaluating. Regrouping and realizing that my path is not laid out before me. At any moment, I am allowed to get up from the table and change my mind.
On that note, I think I’ll go eat a burrito now.