puttanesca

sometimes i catch myself in the middle of a sentence i don't like saying.

not that what i'm saying is inherently bad. it's just that i don't feel that it's the right thing to say to someone whom i'm trying to regard differently. we have to at least deliver what's asked from us. you can't simply open a pack of all-purpose cream and serve it to someone asking for a cheesy heaping of bechamel. comfort can be distressing when assigned to achieving certain goals.

but then again maybe it's just me and my warped sense of how things should be.

there are rules to the game. i have to think and act a certain way. in attempt to do so, i try to approximate other people's examples cause i can never come up with an original thought. i mean, it's sensible to base things off from well established recipes, no? but never having the right answer is always a cause for anxiety. so much so that i desperately cling onto the most conventional of wisdoms even when nothing about me falls even adjunct to the mainstream.

it's stupid.

but a stupid answer is better than no answer at all. what separates the great from everyone else is consequential action. i'm either not great yet or maybe even ever, but there's always a chance. it's only a matter of doing something at the right place, in the right time, and in the right manner. if all those things have to fall in a very particular order before i get what i actually want, then so be it. i'll have to keep throwing spaghetti strands to the wall.

it's not like i have control over the universe. so if by the time that i can have my meal, and i don't have a lot of pasta left in my bowl, then i'll just make do with drowning it in a shitload of sauce.

and an extra grating of cheese, just for good measure.