Got home from work about an hour ago, and yikes, I walked almost 8 miles at work today! It makes sense that my plantar fasciitis is singing a little bit (in a soprano tone).
I have the night shift, tomorrow, and so I am trying to stay up a wee bit longer before my head hits the pillow, and I decided to boil a chicken breast filet — with spices, of course (I prefer dill weed, salt, dried garlic and onion, and an ungodly amount of black pepper), then let some rice boil in the makeshift stock while I shredded the chicken. After that, I put the chicken back in with a can of cream of mushroom soup. I let that cook, then added it to a baking pan and let it crisp up in the oven for about fifteen minutes, just to get that golden glow on the top of it.
I remembered my mom used to do this, but with a twist. She’d start with chicken, then either add rice or pasta to the stock water, then shred the chicken and put it back with a sauce base, brown and serve. She called it “whatever.” She’d usually make a side vegetable to go with it.
Writing this, I just realized she did this with pretty much every meal. Spaghetti, fried rice, Alfredo, etc. All had the same starting point. I even think she cooked beef tips the same way. Man, I wish I could cook up some beef tips. I miss real soul food…her ox tail and smothered chicken were to die for.
I also just realized that’s how I cook now! Meat base, a complimentary starch, a sauce base, and a quick bake and viola! Still not mom’s, but her spirit is in almost everything I throw together.
Anyway, I am working a super late shift, tomorrow. My plans are to basically stay in rest mode all day until I go in. I hope I can do it, and I want to, but if not, my manager basically said “just tell me first and we’ll switch it up at the next pay period.”
Surrealism and a Compliment
I wrote a short story that dug into the feeling of being ostracized. I wanted to get the emotion out of my system, and my editor said it was very Lynchian if not outright disturbing. Which…I glowed. The goal was to get a very disturbing feeling out of my system, and I guess I pulled it off.
My favorite part about it is that there’s no dialogue. This is because being ostracized feels like you are forced to be silent. And that shock and confusion can lead your mind down a rabbit hole of fears, disillusionment, loss of self-worth…especially when your biggest fear is abandonment, regardless if the ostracization was purposeful or not. So I wanted to write it down in a manner that that feeling would be understood and even felt on the same level and magnitude that I felt it. And…well, it got weird. I turned things like not being able to participate, not being able to play, not being able to stay dry (as in sober), not being able to enjoy yourself due to being overwhelmed, not being able to take part in shared joy….all of that came out in some very…it was weird.
When I woke up and read it the day after, I was unsettled to say the least. It’s definitely not a style I normally do, but it gave me such a high to write. I cannot wait to finish and share it. I also can’t wait to explore another uncomfortable emotion through metaphor and surrealism like this.
Anyway, I’m too tired to be inspired but still happy, blessed, and content.