S is for Silly Me Writing Another R Post Called R is for Recipes

How much easier would life be if it came with a set of instructions?
Step 1: Cry for no apparent reason other than “for the hell of it” until your lungs are sore and your parents look like they have been deprived of ten years worth of sleep.

The fact that life is so unpredictable and unplanned sometimes gets to me – but not in the “I have no plans for the day/week” type of unplanned, I mean the endgame and major plot points of life being completely up in the air and open. That type of unplanned is the stuff that freaks me out.

To be honest, when I read Tom Fletcher’s admissions in Unsaid Things…Our Story about space, I was more than a little relieved that I wasn’t the only one to be completely freaked. He said that though he loves space and the intrigue and mystery behind it, it always had that menacing horror hiding behind it. That’s the way that I feel about space.
I think the idea of space is amazing. I think the whole occurrence of the big bang is awesome and completely mind blowing, but when I think about the possibility of the universe spontaneously ending or the idea that Earth could be swallowed by a black hole, I am filled with immense amounts of paralyzing fear.
In addition to this, my fears about space aren’t necessarily localised to something that could potentially happen to me, I still freak out when I think that my relatives 20 generations on could be experiencing the end of the world.

And that is how I occasionally think about the unplanned nature of life. It’s damn scary. It’s like a more plausible version of James Dashner’s The Maze Runner. We’re put here and monitored to see how we fare against a series of small but challenging and possibly life-threatening tests. Oh, I had never thought of it like that and now I can’t stop!

Anyway, I believe that just a hint – one scerrick – of information that lets us know that we are on the right path in life would be truly helpful. Something that says: “If you choose this option, you will do this, this, this and this and you will end up here. Are you sure you want to take this path? Click ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.” Thus, a life recipe.

See, even when I cook I need a recipe. Anyone who has actually witnessed me cook will say that it is for the safety of everyone involved that I have a recipe in front of me at all times. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. I usually end up forgetting an ingredient, or putting too much of something in or spilling it everywhere or burning/cutting/injuring myself in one way or another.

I forgot the sugar in chocolate muffins once. That was…a disaster. Tip: Don’t forget the sugar in chocolate muffins.
Also: don’t trust a salt grinder not to fall apart and empty all of its contents into your stirfry. I am pretty sure I had enough salt in that to preserve my food for years.

[This is the point I realised that it was supposed to be an S post not an R one. I guess I could have called it ‘S is for Stubborn’ because I liked it too much to start all over]

Recipes are a guide, not a rule, remember. If we revisit the idea of having a life recipe, it would be a guide to tell you how to achieve what you want the finished product of your life to be.

At first, I started thinking about how constricted we would be if we had a life recipe to follow. And though some people, namely me (probably), would stick to the recipe without question, there would be others that could add their own flare to the traditional recipe to make it more typically them.

But we don’t have a recipe, at least a written one, that tells us how our lives should be lived. And, in retrospect, I suppose that’s a good thing. We should be free to do want we want with our lives and we should have that individuality and a life that encapsulates the people we are. But maybe all I am asking for is a clue, something that says “you’re doing good” to give me reassurance when all I have is doubt.

How to Make the Perfect Pizza:
Step 1: Choose your toppings. I prefer mine Hawaiian, which is ham pieces, pineapple pieces and a lot of cheese. Don’t forget the tomato paste.

When somebody asks me what I want to do in my life, I usually make some spiel about how I want to be successful and not have to worry about money. They tell me that of course I would want that, but what else? This is where I look at them blankly and ask “what do you mean?”
You have to choose some things to do in life to contribute to your ultimate happiness, they say. Oh.
“Well,” I say, “eradicating the burden of having to worry about finances would make me happy.”

They laugh. They think I’m being funny.

Step 2: Spread your tomato paste on your base.

I have landed a job – my dream one, in fact – at a research facility nearby. They promise me good wages and good healthcare. Life is going to be good. I will work as many hours as I can so that my financial issues are gone. Carefree life is in my reach!

Step 3: Spread the toppings carefully. You don’t want all the flavour in one spot and none in others.

Ah. This day off is bliss. My back is hurting from standing every day and I need some sleep after endless runs of six and eight hour shifts.
Money is good. I have some. No more money troubles for me!

I should ice my back, though. I think I’ve pinched a nerve.

Step 4: Bake in hot oven until cheese has melted and base and cheese start to brown.

I do the same thing – day in and day out. How did I get so robotic?
I used to read a novel every two weeks and now I am lucky if I can keep my eyes open during dinner. I think my cat, Rufus, is liking my tiredness. More food for him, I guess.

Step 5: Cut into slices and bon appetit!

I never thought 75 would come so soon.
One minute I was 25 and worrying that my money would run out. Now I have my money; I made sure I got it. But I have too much and I can no longer travel or spend it.

They laughed. They thought I was being funny. I wasn’t being funny. I got what I said I wanted. Did they?

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