OT Rites of Passage
- I knew I had finally completed that difficult ferry-boat ride to adulthood when I moved away from my parents, obviously not depending on my mom to wash my clothes for me anymore, and instead dropped them off weekly at the "Bright Sun Laundry Matt" down the street from my new apartment.
When I picked up my first load of freshly washed and pressed laundry from the nice Korean lady I said "Shih-Shih".
"Shih-Shih is Chinese, I'm afraid. Just say 'thanks!'."
As a single man, I have the unique good fortune to cook for myself. Now, don't get to thinking that that can only mean one thing: hot cereal. There are many cold cereals that taste awful good when heated- like grape nuts and Kelloggs Corn Flakes. And eggs- God, eggs, how can anyone overlook the incredible, edible egg. For the past twenty years I've been putting them in hot water, boiling them to a remarkably firm, luscious tenderness, and then eating them with a tiny crab fork with salt and pepper packets lifted from the local Denny's. (Denny's once denied me a job as dishwasher, so I feel privileged, even obliged, to steal condiments from them).
Yes, I know there are other ways to eat an egg besides the hard boiled variety that's so near and dear to my heart. But why take a risk? Why risk ruining a perfectly good egg by experimenting with what temperature to cook it or the right amount of oil? With hard boiled eggs you just dunk them in water and set a timer. Then, in twelve minutes- presto! Paradise in a half shell.
Some of you might rightly be thinking that I'm celebrating the virtues of my hard boiled eggs because I don't know how to prepare them any other way and I'm too lazy to pick out all the egg shells when I do try to prepare them differently. But that's fallacious logic. It's not that I choose not to learn how to cook my eggs differently. It's that I lack the skill to do so and therefore choose not to. The power rests with me. I've got the conch!
Being grown up is more than just knowing how to fix cars and answer a telephone survey with aplomb and parallel parking your SUV without wrecking a fire hydrant (by the way, have you ever seen anyone parallel park on the first try? I haven't). It's about knowing who you are and not letting that knowledge disturb you. I know who I am! I'm a somewhat overweight, mousy little man who collects vinyl like it's going out of style and whose room looks like Krakatoa just erupted, which of course is a lie, as there was no Krakatoa, just ask the two islands that it totally obliterated long ago on 27 August 1887.
Yes, I know who I am. And self-knowledge is power, and power means never learning how to cook anything besides cold cereals in your microwave.
Power is knowledge and knowledge power- who said that, Keats?
- Proud student enrolled in the school of the Sri Chinmoy Inspiration Group