But very, very hard. Especially if you get easily distracted like me! Uh oh! Carbon monoxide! Something's smoking up in the kitchen, Elle. Chyup... Gotta deal with the fact that right now, at this very moment, in the month of May, 2017, I have tried to cook, but the shit that came out was still shit or not even cooked because hey, I admit, I am the crappiest of cooks. Ever. Anyways, I don't know who I am. I don't think I'll ever find out, oh dear me. But the thing is people, I'll keep searching. And I'm going to search doing the things that I love.
If you don't know me, and I am an open book after all, you'd probably not be aware of my undying need for the satisfaction that food provides for me. Basically, all I can say is food comes first. After cats. Cats are my god. They are a figment of my mind's delusion of a deity.
Anyways, yeah... Food. Ah, cooking. Ah, me and cooking? We don't get along well. First of all, I'm a clumsy fool in the kitchen, for example, say I was chopping up a celery stick for a salad. Bam, suddenly out of nowhere, the knife that I was guiding so delicately with my hands manages to chop off my finger!
Well, not chop off, but cuts it, slices it, you get the picture. I was just exaggerating because it sounds better if it were that gory. Anyways, this is me and my interests combined. Shouldn't that give you a hint or a clue into who I truly am? I like food, I like cats, I like water too. How destructive yet calm and serene it could be. Oh how it reminds me of calm drizzles that hit the pavement and the wilderness or tsunamis out there in the deep ocean.
Anyways... I know, I know, I know. Must be hard trying to learn how to cook, but shit!!! I fucking adore food, and usually, I'm a little picky and only I can fix my meals to suit my preferrable needs. Therefore, one day I'll be a cook. It's just I'm a little slow, mind you, in learning how to fix up a meal with a spatula. And if you, in your right mind, have the decency to treat me as your equal and your colleague at the very least, don't make this a competition. Don't think, "oh, she's slow. She'll only be a burden on your team," if we're doing group activities. It hurts and it is shameful. I'm sorry that I wasn't born with your quick wit or fast reflexes. Hell, I know I'm a clutz and that you're elegant and graceful, now don't do the competition anymore, because I unfortunately just did it. There you go. You're better and I am thick in the skull. I hope that makes you happy, which also makes you a sadist in a sense. Happy because somebody like me is lower and inferior to you, oh superior person. Sometimes, I don't get you.
Sometimes, when I get into a fight, I just agree with them, until they realize oh, it's over, and yeah it is over. I agree with your statement. You're smart, I'm a fool. The end. End of discussion, I take it. Yet sometimes, people can't stop egging me on and provoking me. Makes me want to seek out solitude. Makes me want to die sometimes to end all this bullshit interaction with the rest of the population. Makes me want to crawl into a corner and just cry. Not die... That would sound cliché, because I think I might've heard it before.
Three things I adore are: food, cats, weed, films, Alfred Hitchcock, superheroes, weed, video games, walking, animals, weed, Mexican food, Japanese food, sushi, pizookies, weed, stretching, swimming, hairstyles, weed, oh and fashion, and food.
Wow... That sounded annoying. But no matter what people say. If they don't believe in me, that's okay. I don't even know why I'm mentioning it. I just need to cook. To take care of my lovely boyfriend, and to take care of anyone else who's got a grumbling tummy, aching for food. And it's got to be good. I need to be a good cook. Not someone who I am now. A crappy, shit cook.
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