I don’t often feel like part of this generation. This explains why, I guess. I don’t have pictures of yesterday’s meals. Or this morning’s. I only have an empty bowl now. Leftover rice, an egg, kimchi, and some furikake to tie the whole thing together. This closes the kimchi chapter of this week. My housemates would tell you that I have been chanting kimchi throughout the week as I marinated in the idea.
My utterances often betray my mind – if some people are closed books, I am one of clear plastic sheets; easy to read when one page is held to the light, but difficult when the pages are interposed. (On a side note, I find that I unconsciously look away when a new emotion bubbles up. I wonder if it’s because I know – on some sort of conscious level – that people would see it unfold on my face.) I still don’t know if this is a good thing. I’ve been working at concealment but I don’t think I’m any good at it.
I will go back to my neglected assignments now. Instead of studying or doing said assignments, I was making kimchi while MasterChef condemned me as I clumsily julienned carrots and radishes.
I dream of chocolate mousse, at present. Interposed between a light biscuit of a sort. I’m thinking very, very light. But, that, I suppose, is for tomorrow.