Sometimes, I listen to other people’s conversations and learn a lot about them. Then, I see people I know on the street and wonder about anonymity and become nervous about my own public phone conversations. Cities seem big but the world is small.
I talk too much or not enough. Staring at myself in a window today, I thought about the people who wonder about my life. I’m so glad I’m not on reality television, but I sometimes can’t help myself from wanting to know how I would digest other people’s opinions of me. I have a flashback to the middle school lunch table.
I buy a bottle of wine and more or less know how it will affect me. I buy some basil, and there are so many possibilities; I don’t always know what I’m doing, but I always end up daydreaming about the potential. If my mind could think in recipes, I wonder how my life would be different. Instead, I mostly only think about the end result.
One time I made macaroni and cheese in China, and I was happy.