We can’t attempt to compartmentalize things in life; put the oranges here, the greens in a separate fridge with a different humidity than the cheese will allow, and give the avocados get their own special fridge. Of course each food has its own ideal way it can be stored to maintain optimum freshness and maximize shelf life, but if you catered to the specific needs of each individual food, you’d exhaust your resources, your expenses, and yourself by all the running around you’d have to do just to make dinner. You might think you’re doing a good job of organizing, and this might happen elsewhere, too. “There’s too many files in this folder. I know–I’ll give them all their own folder!” So now instead of fixing the problem, there’s “too many folders in this drawer! I can’t find anything!”
While trying to be fair to the food, you are being unfair to yourself. You need to treat yourself with some respect; and actually by stuffing everything into the same fridge at a uniform temperature and humidity, it’s more respectful to the food too. No one gets special treatment so they know not to ask for it. It’s nothing unusual; it’s just the best option. The food might whine and complain, but who doesn’t complain every once in a while? The food doesn’t care if you do anything about its complaints, it just wants to vent. You might say, “This quinoa is going straight to my hips,” and then eat it anyway. Same thing. Otherwise, if you cater to every food and try to please them all with their own special climate, it won’t work; it never does. And all you’ll be left with is an empty avocado refrigerator.
I was thinking about ice cream the other day. Not about how I like Ben and Jerry’s half-baked or cherry garcia or anything like that, but more about how ice cream can save the day.
Society seems so compartmentalized and separated sometimes. You got different income brackets, demographics, different jobs, and even having so many ‘communities’ and subcultures can bunch us up and put us in little boxes. I mean, I get it — it’s understandable that we want to be with similar people with similar interests, because that makes us comfortable, but at the same time we shouldn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place if we hop in another box.
Whether we like it or not, we (people) love comparing. So we got all these boxes that we’ve put our selves in, and so naturally we put them on this ‘existential shelf’ and start saying “this box is better, that one sucks,” “I’m glad I’m not on the bottom shelf,” “Why is the top shelf way less crowded than the bottom? That’s not fair!” So then we start clawing our way to the top, pulling others down, biting ankles, stabbing backs, and the worst part is some actually succeed, however most will fail, and it becomes this big race we’ve made it out to be, and…
We just need to slow down.
There is no race. It’s not a competition. No one can win or lose. We forget that we’re all on the same level; there is no shelf.
This is where I think we just need to give everyone an ice cream cone. Just imagine if you did–for real. Everyone would have to stop what they’re doing and eat it. Big wig business executives in a board meeting, gang bangers meeting up on a street corner, soccer moms buzzing from place to place to place; everyone would stop, look around and see that everyone else has ice cream too. We are all on the same level. We might like different flavors and have our own unique way of eating our favorite cup or cone, but everyone likes ice cream. Relax. No one’s going to jump in front of you and cut you off because they’re also savoring a delicious frozen treat — because that’s what you do when someone gives you ice cream.
You take a moment… and enjoy it. You can’t afford to wait — or it’ll melt.
I am now promoting my twitter account, @allmostrelevant. It’s funny and keeps you notified.
As I was driving down the interstate somewhere between the bay and Sacramento, an attractive young girl passed me on the right, but slowed down and stayed even with me. I looked over and she was looking back and giggling to herself. I may have raised an eyebrow or two, but couldn’t figure what the fuss was about. She seemed so blissfully lost in the moment of taking her red coupe across the state… Why do attractive girls always drive fast red cars?
I swerved a little and figured I should pay attention to the road more than I was, but I couldn’t help but keep looking back over at her. There’s something so captivating when you make contact with someone on the highway. You’re both zooming by at deathly speeds, yet you stop and take the time to look each other in the eye. There’s no pressure, no expectations, and no formalities. You’re not ‘supposed’ to meet people on the highway. You probably won’t ever see them again. It’s like seeing a person stripped down without all the defenses they wear or disguises they put up in order to function in society. If you don’t see anything worth looking at, you look away and move on, or conversely, you keep looking to see what will happen in this short amount of time.
She pressed a napkin against the window and wrote on it, holding the pen cap in her teeth, and then turned it around. It was a phone number, and from the look on her face, it was hers. I checked my rear view so I didn’t get pulled over for texting, but there was no one around. I typed the number down and gave her a thumbs up. She winked and then sped off.
I never did see her again. I pulled over at the next rest stop thinking she might be there. I called the number. “We’re sorry. This number cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up, or–” I must have typed it down wrong. There’s no spellcheck for phone numbers. I waited at the rest stop for quite some time looking back in the direction I came. I don’t know why. Maybe I was waiting for her to pull in to the rest stop, but the truth was she was zooming down the highway. Our encounter was so brief that I didn’t know what to make of it until it was gone, so I got back in my car and decided I have a lot of road ahead of me; and a lot of driving left to do.