Have you heard about the Bamboo shoot story? You know, the one people tend to use to give encouragement to other people who are in the midst of slaving away like nothing’s happening. Just like a bamboo shoot that shows no activities for 7 years, it’ll grow a meter or two overnight on the 7th year. Or something along that lines.
That’s all well and swell.
But when I heard the story for a millionth time, one thing popped up in my head. “
What if I am not a bamboo. What if I’m a potato?”
Yea. My head is my own worst enemy.
But hear me out. What if like potatoes, apart from hiding underneath the ground, buried in dirt, I also sprout little teensy bits once in a while, just to say “hey there’s something under here? Come check me out, hey.” Okay, I guess real potatoes wouldn’t sprout as much to seek attention but to get some air, have a smoke and inhale as much sun as possible. And then, get this. Potatoes grow sideways. They grow and make new potatoes and all these jolly good carbohydrates with so many potential of what they could become (smmmmashed potato mmmmmm) and all are hidden from sight! What atrocity!
Covered in dirt and nibbled by the night creatures, the potatoes sit patiently while growing away in world’s oblivion, which is not unlike what I feel some days. Waiting patiently for someone or something to get rid of the dirt surrounding me and yank me out of the darkness and put me in bootcamp to success. I yearn and dream for the day I could truly be smashing potato or even raising the freedom fries flag.
Alas. Some sense had knocked into the potato head. A potato will always be a potato. It will never be a bamboo. And bamboo can never be potato. Otherwise there will be some very confused Panda somewhere.
So here I am. On the verge on leaping to a new plant-analogy that may serve my cause better. No longer could I sit and wait for a prince to yank me out and make me the woman that I am. No longer could I hang with the underbelly of the earth with its dark, dark thoughts and nibbly worms. Iew. No longer could I wait. No longer could I sit in silence. It is time for change! Change! I am a few years late on the Obamarama train but it is time for change!
An open audition for new plants will be held tomorrow at my place after 6pm. Whatever plants think that their gestation period and lifecycle has the most inspirational probability to transform my life will get a yearly membership to my pot. A company of hot boiling broth or soy sauce and garlic will be guaranteed. Just like Paris would say “That’s hot.” and it certainly will be! I will promise to eat a portion of you once a week. And mark my word that I would chomp you down like you’re the mac-and-cheese of my life as I will do it even if you turned out to be some hard-to-pronounced plants I’ve never heard of. Like kale (“YA KALEEEE” or “kylie Minogue”?) or quinoa.
Recipes are welcomed too.