Insidious Adaptation

A box on the grocery store shelf, nothing special. Two dollars, an egg, and a cup of oil, and you’ve got yourself a snack made for a king. In fact, kings wouldn’t have had it this good when kings ruled the land. The heroes depicted in Game of Thrones don’t have a box of easy to mix, bake, and eat brownies, but yet, I do. I am not royalty, I am not famous, why should I have access to such a plethora of taste. My buds stimulated as a sugar glaze and the perfect ratio of fatty acids graces the tongue telling the brain how good I’ve been. As with all good boys, they are rewarded. My reward is a delicacy ready without much effort at all, and available to anyone. No longer are delicacies measured by the time it takes to produce. Sure, purists can always argue that those ingredients are crap and that the authentic stuff is better. Nobody is disagreeing with that. However, to a poor person getting $100,000 one could say a million is better, but that hundred grand still looks pretty sweet (...

Honestly, I am writing this as I have just eaten a can of fish, some of those zucchini noodles, and a few too many nuts for my own liking, trying to avoid eating more because for some reason it didn't seem to suffice. It was as though I was waiting for something, some texture, some misplaced ingredient that I craved and filled on alternatives, like a pitcher with a strong fast ball, walking the batter. Nutritionally, there were the fats, the proteins, carbs were low, but I've done that for a while now, so it's not that big of a deal. It had been about four hours since the last meal, which isn't anything to write about, except here of course, where one's mind is allowed to roam. One thing worthy of note is the irritability I have experienced the past few days. A frustration in getting things done. I am able to accomplish my tasks, yet I have no hope they will be any good. The struggle has been real, in other words, a sort of muddy feel to my days, all with a fa...