I’ve been living mostly on rice for the past few weeks because I didn’t work enough to buy much else to eat at home.
I actually love rice.
I also love vanilla. There is a misconception that vanilla is plain when actually it’s one of the most complex flavorings we use in food.
My favorite beverage is water. Although if the water isn’t cold then it’s not a beverage — it’s just life support.
And, that’s enough said about Father’s Day.
In Mrs. Jones’ eight grade English class I learned that creative writing is interesting because of conflict — how it arises, what challenges it poses, and how it is resolved.
I learned that there are three kinds of conflict:
- Man vs. Man
- Man vs. Nature
- Man vs. Himself
I didn’t buy the man vs. himself crap because it didn’t seem to make any sense at all. How could someone be against himself? Sure seems like a case of rosy glasses now considering I was going through what everyone, I think, goes through in junior high — a struggle to feel more comfortable and confident, but I probably viewed that more as conflict with the world than conflict within myself.
The trick is to accept those things you cannot change as they are and that acceptance changes you and by doing so you’ve won a round against yourself.
The solution isn’t so clear when your conflict is with yourself.
Holy crap, I’m preparing to make rice and I’ve left the water boiling too long. That means I need to remeasure it and start over. Brb. ** Yes, 2.5 cups of water had boiled down to 1.75 cups… which would not have been sufficient.
Anyway, it’s funny how when I was younger I thought inner conflict was mythical, and now I sometimes look for other forms of conflict to distract me from myself.
Oh, I generally don’t start fights with people because that’s just not worth it. But, I’ve played chicken with my means of supporting myself, temping conflict with hunger and homelessness. Although, it would probably require fighting with people to actually become homeless again, so the whole process if just nuts.
In other news, I’m never going to write a nonfiction book about what I did a while back, so I’m trying to dream up some sort of fiction I could create out of the situations I was in and the characters I met (including within myself).
Not news: I don’t like my blog.
The best rice for snacking is already cooked, dehydrated rice (aka Minute Rice), but it’s expensive for those on a budget, so the next best idea is “par boiled” rice because it’s more difficult to turn into glue.
There is something about some grains of rice that are so easy to turn into nasty tasting building materials.
I don’t have any fun doing anything. That doesn’t seem normal, but, hey… I’m pleased if I can get through the next 5 minutes and then the next.. and then eventually I get to sleep again.
Sleep isn’t exactly fun, but dreams are interesting and not easy to predict.
I have paid more attention and can confirm that my dreams do seem to be mostly a reinterpretation of what’s been going on and the experiences I’ve had in my waking hours.
I’m not sure why I recurrently dream that I have an apartment somewhere full of all my stuff on which I’ve not paid the lease and I’m worried I won’t get my stuff back.
Also in dreams: The details never seem to be the same when I look at something a second time; and, it’s impossible to find an address for that reason — the street signs never make sense.
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