Empty Fern-Holders Just Need to Be Filled

I have been thankful for January. The stresses, the confidences, the moments of relief, the feelings of capability, the honesty... all of it.

And I am thankful the passage of time continues, and that I won't have to return and redo any part of my life. Even moments ago, I'll never have to feel or think exactly the same way again.

Up-to-date, therapy is better, although I am tired of going to therapy. I am so astonished and grateful for the experience of therapy for 4 months shy of a year now, but I am glad the time is coming to a conclusion. I shall miss my therapist, and wish we could know each other under different circumstances. I'd like to meet her dogs, and see her trees that she's been battling a tree disease against, and hold my palm to their trunks and, in the wise words of Fern Gully, "feel their pain." I'd like to drink coffee together, and I'd like for her to show me how to fix my car myself. If only.

Life does not operate on if's, or only's, and so I am merely happy that I have met this woman who knows so much about me, knows me really, and we know how imperfect the other is, and yet we still trust each other.

I have the good fortune right now of sitting in on a class, all about food, in society, and in literature. Currently, I'm reading Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant. It's a humorous, but so honest, collection of essays written by foodies, gourmet chefs, gourmet chefs' ex-wives, college students scraping by... really, everyone who's ever eaten is represented. Except maybe homeless folks. I'm not halfway through yet. As the title implies, it is a book on the experience of solo-consumption.

I find a lot of solace in reading this. It's fabulous to hear the concoctions of foods that we all eat, especially when we're by ourselves, because they're foods we'd almost hate to admit verbally, let alone even share. I once had eggs with asparagus and thought I was crazy, but it was delicious. I'd never venture to make this for anyone else though, for fear that someone else would hate it. The woman who wrote all about Spargelfrau (the relationship of Germany and asparagus), admitted in writing that eggs with asparagus is delicious, and so I do feel a little vindicated. There's camaraderie in knowing that I am not the first post-college kid to get by on rice, popcorn... yes, mostly inexpensive starches with the occasional burst of protein-enriched peanut butter thrown in. It feels good to know that this is a time in life, that I could romanticize myself as a peasant if I wish, and that I know deep down I can only make the best of things.

This class has introduced me to all of this, and more.

Do you know the "This I Believe" craze? It was a radio show on NPR, famously during the '50s, and now a non-profit organization based on encouraging folks--celebrities, politicians, your local grocer, and maybe your dad--to write their personal philosophy in 500 words or less, using only the affirmative about what they know in life. We all know the negative exists; how often do we describe life through what life isn't?

I wrote a "This I Believe" essay for an early writing course in college. I still have it, somewhere, and maybe I'll root it out and share it for laughs. I imagine my personal philosophy has changed, just in the past few years since I've written it. I am much more honest now. My first version of a personal philosophy was what I wanted to believe: that I wanted to be human, and that I believed in being human. It's not that I don't want to believe this anymore, because I do, but I realize I really don't and I really haven't for as long as I can remember any personal philosophies I've held about life since childhood.

On side note: I watched a scary movie recently, and I'm jumpy at night right now. It sucks, and it's stupid. Although, I think I am more anxious at night now, for a turn of events from my A.M. anxiety. Either way--beginning the day, or ending the day--this way... it's tiring. It hurts.

I want to write a new "This I Believe" essay, and I had the opportunity to chart a new one while sitting in on this food class. Of course, the gist of the essay had to be about food, which is important to me, and I find it of extreme interest, especially as a vehicle for emotion and memory in writing and literature, but I don't have a strong personal philosophy about it.

I'm still trying to discover, honestly, what my personal philosophy is, in 500 words or less, and reign myself in, with the world, with my world.

...my ferns uprooted to greener pastures today. When my bonsai tree died, I felt I died. I don't so much with these ferns. Their empty hanging baskets could make a good setting place for bananas. You know how, on infomercials, there are specially designed banana-hangers to go on your counter? I don't eat bananas much, I don't like bananas much, but I understand that they're a difficult fruit to place in one's kitchen. Spread the word: empty plant holders--not the pot, but the place where you hang the pot--makes a good banana holder. I haven't tried it out yet, but when I do, you'll see my picture and my dead ferns everywhere.