Food

Right now I'm having my fourth meal of instant noodles in 3 days. I've been having an amazing run of craving for instant noodles with egg, and bad salty food in general.

Today I didn't actually have a craving for instant noodles. But I had been awake for hours, was starving, couldn't wait for my other housemates to wake up and make food, since I wanted to go jogging/gym in the afternoon before heading out in the evening. So I wasn't in the mood to make complicated foods, and there doesn't seem to be any real food in the house fridge.

As I was putting the water to boil, I realised that I barely remember the days when I used to cook at all. I've never been a fancy cook of course. Hate cooking on principle. But there was a brief period in time when I actually enjoyed the act of making food for my own consumption. Like the time when I tried brussel sprouts with butter and salt (never got that one right) and asparagus (yuuuum), or when I used to eat avocado with mozzarella (sliced nicely and arranged prettily on a plate) just because it gave me pleasure. Food was a luxury to be savoured. It enriched my life and gave me the simple kind of joy that is free of entanglements.

Nowadays, I almost invariably eat out (takeaway) because of work. The rare times I come home early, I'd just have whatever my housemates are eating, make instant noodles, or my friend and cousin would make food for me. Which is great obviously. But I've also reached a level of inertia, such that even on my days off, I don't feel like making the effort to cook something that I'd enjoy eating. Instead, meals have become a chore to be dealt with in as cursory a fashion as possible: what's the easiest, quickest thing? shove it into my stomach. done. next.

I'm no longer in love with food. And life has become that little bit less beautiful. Not because I'm no longer in love with food alone, but because my apathy towards the food I intake is a symptom of a more disturbing problem - a lessening of self-love. I don't care enough to take the time and effort to make food for myself, and to pay attention to what I eat.

As I was frying eggs and throwing my instant noodles into the frying pan, I realised that I'm missing proper simple home-cooked food. I'm craving spicy food and curry. Food which reminds me of home and my mother's love. So I decided that I would cook either tonight or tomorrow. I'll go out and buy the ingredients after typing this entry and going for a quick spin on my bike. I refuse to cook for boys on principle, and I did initially hesitate, because I'm alone in the house with two boys now, and just by plain bad luck, I'd end up cooking for them too. But at the end of the day, you know what? I'm cooking for myself really, because that's what I want. And I'm not going to deprive myself because there happen to be boys around and I'm hung-up over some rubbish principle. Because that would undermine the whole principle - I'd be allowing boys to dictate what I do.

Besides, the point of cooking would not be about eating the food at all. It's about returning to younger, more innocent days. It is about taking the time out, to slow my life down, and revel in the simple pleasures of life.