casserole analogy

I spent most of today in deep thought.

I think a lot, and most of the time I torment myself by replaying old memories over and over again. A twisted, sadistic way of making sure I feel every bit of emotion, be it unhappy or empty or happy. I can choose to think of good memories, but most of the time they're accompanied by the fact that things changed, and good becomes bad.

This made me think back to that fateful night Claudz and I stayed over at Risse's. I remember one particular discussion, amongst others that will not be publicly discussed as we were not in the best state of mind. About how one can never feel numb. I don't think it is remotely possible to possess the inability to feel. I quote my dear friend that was still able to speak quite coherently, "You're either living in denial, or really good at psychoing yourself."

Hurting reminds you that you're human, it's the whole essence of living. You haven't lived if you haven't loved, lost, hurt, laughed.

Finishing my CLB paper early meant having pockets of free time to stare into space and get lost in deep thought, and I thought of an analogy. Picture this, you have this casserole. You've made everything from scratch, lovingly put in different things that you love; little parts of your identity. Some macaroni because it's always the safest option, some bacon and ham, cheese. Because you can't get enough of cheese. Some oregano and parsley flakes even though you hate parsley, but well, for the flavour. You've laboured in the kitchen for god knows how long and you put it in the oven to bake. You have this feeling it'll turn out great, but it's something you've never attempted before so there's still the possibility of failure. But still, you have an inkling it's headed in the direction you want it to go; the good one, where it's delicious and everybody loves it and la di da. You take it out, it smells wonderful, you are excited to get your first taste. However, while handing it over to your best friend it slips and falls to the floor. And gone, your time, effort, hopes; ruined. 

You feel cheated, it was snatched away from you just like that, and reduced to a pile of mush. A waste, such a pity. And of course you try your hand at making new casseroles, but it will never be the same as your very first. The excitement, anticipation, passion that went into it. 

Oh God, I don't even know how I thought of that, while typing all that I actually found it quite amusing that I'd conjure up such an analogy. But yeah, a growling tummy was probably at fault. 

So that kinda sums up my current thought obsession at the moment. Maybe it was just thrilling to have touched something that had touched you. The magnitude of which scares me though.

But all this stuff aside, I had an amazing night. I am starting to change my outlook on jc life in general and I thank my lovely classmates for that.