So this is what I did: I was making breaded pork cutlets when I was interrupted by my father. He disagreed, it seems, with my method of pounding the porkchops into thin cutlets. I was thwacking them mercilessly with the heavy bottom of a saucepan, which was both highly effective and therapeutic, whilst my father seemed to think it caused raw meat bits to spray on the clean utensils drying on the counter. I articulated my argument vis-a-vis effectiveness, and he pressed his point as well.
I called bullshit, threw the saucepan into the sink and told him to do it himself if he thinks he's such an expert.
Cut to now. The house is filling up with the smell of frying meat, which means he's actually picked up where I left off, and I want to go make myself a cup of tea but I can't because then I'll inevitably encounter him and feel the need to apologize. And then I'll be mad at myself for apologizing because I don't have anything to be sorry about. What may seem like an ovvereaction on my part is actually due to the fact that my father has had a habit of having something to say about the way I cook more or less since I picked up my first spatula. Despite the fact that he eats everything I make. And likes it. But also, just maybe, I'm a bit frazzled at the nerves right now.
I quit my job on Friday.
I quit it because it was becoming intolerable and because I wanted to go back to school. But was only able to schedule one class and then I had to drop it because the cost ended up being much higher than I counted on. I have an interview for another full time position tomorrow morning and I am freaking out about it.
I expect to be on edge for more or less forever. I expect to throw many things into the kitchen sink as I spend some of my new-found free time preparing meals and freaking out.
The job I had was completely uninteresting and totally unrelated to anything I wanted to do with my future, but it taught me a lot. What it taught me, though, is the extent to which discomfort is a way of life. The extent to which drifting and indecision contribute to backing oneself into a corner and trying to piece things together better from there. It taught me that I am a harder worker than I thought, but that hard work is always taxing but not always rewarded. Maybe I am a better person for knowing this, but a more nervous, more dissatisfied person.
If there is something I want to do, I should be doing it.
If there is something I need to do to do what I want to do, I should be doing it.
And if there is an Entenmann's cake somewhere in this house, I would really, really like to eat it.