I'm not much of a cook. It's a function of little to no practice, I always find something I'd rather be doing, like homework *cough* *cough.* But every now and then, I buy some meat, some vegetables, and some other random ingredients. And in those rare occasions in which I actually get around to cooking before the meat actually goes bad, I concoct a pretty damn good meal. Half the time.
Today, I made some awesome stir-fry. Mind-blowingly good. It was basically the greatest stir-fry I've ever made…except for the rice. I'm not sure what it is with rice, but I lack the ability to cook it. I follow the directions, dot the I's, cross the t's, boil the water, add the salt, let it sit, take the top off, etc. Whenever it comes to actually sampling it, something is always wrong. Most of the time, the ricI'vee is too hard, although its sometimes far too sticky. I just can't get it right. Rice is the foil to my cooking. It's the joker to my Batman. The Megatron to my Optimus Prime….that definitely crossed the cooking analogy line. It's really unfortunate too; my stir-fry was damn good. And riceless.
I think rice is actually a metaphor for the rest of my life. Take basketball, for example: At the risk of sounding arrogant, I like to think I can cover almost anybody, beat most people to any rebound, and make the freakishly awesome pass (not at the same time, of course). But shooting is just like rice: it kills the rest of my game. I've got a break-away for an easy lay-up…and hold your breath...it hits the backboard…it hits the rim…it rolls…and goes straight back to the other team. All that hustle wasted. Like my rice cooking skills, I'm pretty sure practice will make it better.
I've finally settled into my school mode. I've actually started doing homework and even studying. Makes me wonder why I ever missed school….well, not really. But I do need to get some sleep. So, peace.