06Mar - most likely about onions
I love onions. Especially raw onions on hoagies, such as the Jimmy John's Gargantuan I'm eating right now, and particularly especially diced raw onions on chili dogs. But, generally speaking, I consume these things before I'm to interact with people so I opt not to get them with the raw onions I love so much. So, to my palate, I frequently end up eating only part of a meal's potential.
So I sit here with a Gargantuan with everything on it, plus some Crayola yellow mustard I added, some jalapeno chips, and a Guiness, and I'm beginning to wonder about the choices I've made.
I'm neglecting my joy for the sake of others, in a certain way. This is not a bad thing. This isn't wrong. In some ways, it is commendable.
But does that mean I'm only truly myself in these quiet moments after work, when it's just a sandwich with onions and me? Is it only when I'm not judged that I allow myself to live? How much of it is me worrying too much what the world would think if I simply threw caution to wind and ordered onions whenever my fancy demanded? But society dictates I'm to be aromatically presentable, which is not what onions can offer me. But society, historically, clutters itself with questionable mores. Would posterity think less of me for ordering onions? Surely not.
Onions have brought me great pleasure. Certainly, under some circumstances, onions have made me weep. Yes, there are times when I have explored beneath the outer layer of an onion to be rewarded by a dichotomy of joy and pain. I have sliced into the crisp, pungent flesh of an onion thinking only of the qualities it will impart when, inevitably, its trauma-induced sulphenic acids create the gas that rises to my eyes and binds to my sensory neurons in a way that makes me cry. And, yes, perhaps there have been times when I have decided to avoid that pain.
But not often and not without the awareness of my weakness.
I should embrace the onion and love it for the pleasure that it brings me. But, like anything else, I cannot abuse it.
For the onion, like each of us, is a layered thing. With many strata. Like a...many layered thing.