After making that recipe, I had so much dill left over that I used it in every dish I made - including breakfast this morning. It might have been overkill to put dill in both my omelette and salad, but it would have been more of a shame to waste it.
I had started reading What I Talk About when I Talk About Running, a memoir by Haruki Murakami. I knew of this book's existence for a while, but was reminded of it when I started going on runs with my friend. I decided to borrow it from the library so I could read it while going through this minor change in my routine. I hoped it would keep me motivated, not only to run but to write as well.
Although the book was about running, I knew that he was going to write about issues that extended beyond it. I knew that what he was doing with running was what I was trying to do with this series of posts. I felt that he, like myself, is able to see the potential of conversations about small things leading to memorable discussions, that together make up what we know about life - identity, relations, memory, logic and feelings.
I hoped to highlight that such small things aren't actually that small, and has a lot to do with why a person may call something so superficial, "life-changing".
I gave him a choice between eggs or grilled cheese, and he said grilled cheese. And because I like being full, I added both chickpea and potato salad on the side.
In my defense, it was noon and I had spent yesterday and this morning wrapped up in what I want to call the best graphic novel series I've read this year, Aya of Yop City by Marguerite Abouet.
I will admit that I may have fallen in love with it due to the circumstances that brought me to reading it. That path led me to identifying with the main character, Aya.
For a girl who values and does the right thing, trouble finds her quickly. This is partially because she is always trying to fix other people's problems, even when she isn't asked to. She admits that she might do this in order to keep her busy from needing to fix her own problems, but I think it's more than that. I think she does it in order to give herself permission to pass the blame to those around her.
She says, "My life's not complicated, it's other people making it that way for me."
If you read the series, you would be quick to say that she is right.
In fact, it's an easy judgement to say out loud when bad things happen to someone else - especially someone you care for.
But when the coin flips, it's just as easy to blame yourself:
"Yes, that professor said he wanted to fail your essay and thought your grammar was so horrible that he didn't think you could speak English, but maybe if I had written it better he wouldn't have said that."
"Yes, I don't think it's fair that I should feel forced to be intimate with another person, but it wouldn't have happened if I stayed away from them."
And then this thinking sidelines into the, well-it could-have-been-worse way of thinking:
"Yes that happened, but he also could have called me a chink and said don't come back to my class until you learn to write in English."
"Yes that happened but at least he didn't physically force me to be intimate with them."
It took that one panel in Aya: Love in Yop City to help me understand something I've never asked myself before, which is when does the waiting stop? When does my pain, as small as it is compared to the rest of the world, stop? Everyone, including myself, should take responsibility for their own actions, but that doesn't necessarily mean everyone will. And if I'm waiting for people to take responsibility for their actions, why am I blaming myself in the mean time?
So today, yesterday, and the day before that...instead of thinking, I spoke.
In English. My first and only language.
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