mis·take

I miss steak.

I eat a lot of greens and random things, so yeah, I miss steak.

I don’t miss the thought of a cow blinking away flies, flipping its tail while standing in poo out in the middle of a steamy field while I eat its body, no, I don’t miss that part.

Well, now I don’t miss steak at all. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I’m sure I’ll miss steak again when I obliterate that visual, at least temporarily, but for now, I’m not missing steak. I’ll probably miss steak again later.

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“My position on most things is this: I could be wrong, but I think I’m right.” ~ Jack Peach

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Thoughts, Tuesday, April 19th, 2022

Why are health bars wrapped in the loudest of wrappers?

I just don’t know.

But they seem to be encased in foil, steel, static ~ and a little bit of black magic.

Stamped on their packages is written ~ sealed for freshness ~ and right next to that they should also engrave ~ good luck getting this open.

It’s like a fitness test opening these bars. I will persevere!

Whenever I’m out in public and I open a bar ~ or try to, I give myself three attempts.  If I can’t open it, I put it back in my purse and smile, because, by then, I have an audience.  

I just throw it in my bag and pretend like I’m satisfied. That’s all that I wanted. I’m not hungry right now. I just thought I’d look at those ingredients and play with the wrapper for a few minutes, I’ll eat it later.

If I do get it open and I start peeling the wrapper back, it sounds like packing tape nearing the end of the roll, not wanting to budge all at once. It comes out in fits and spurts, loud and jerky, for just an ounce of a bar that tastes like chalk. No matter what’s written on the outside, inside it all tastes the same. Outside, ~ now with more nuts … Inside, ~ still chalk.

You can tear open a Snickers bar and … nothing; no noise, no fuss, no one knows, no one needs to know, nobody cares, and no one’s disturbed.

Fight to open a protein bar, try eating well, and it’s like ~ look at me, hey, HEY, look at me … rip, tear, punch, HEY!

The racket and fuss of opening these health bars out in public are along the lines of taking a plastic bag into a movie theater. If you put your snacks in a sack to sneak in for the movie, you’d better get them out before the show starts or forget it. Every crinkle is explosive. Plastic bags are loud enough no matter where you are, but take that bag into a dark, silent, and packed movie theater, and then it’s like a thunderstorm of crackles, in surround sound, bouncing off of all the walls, seats, and people’s heads.

Every rumple gets you closer to your snack, but if you wadded that bag into a ball and put it in your coat, it’s about a thousand deafening interruptions until you reach your treat.  By that time, everyone’s staring at you and the movie is over … for you.

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“Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.” ~ Dalai Lama

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