When I was in my junior year of high school, I wrote a piece for my end-of-the-year project in AP Language and Composition titled “Recipe.” It was an ironic reflection on my life and the hypothetical life I would be leading; it was about the “recipe for success” that everyone told me to follow while knowing it likely wouldn’t make me feel fulfilled in the end. Though I had been writing since childhood, I considered that piece to be the one that started it all—my desire to “be a writer.” “Recipe” was the first piece of spoken word I ever performed, albeit only for my class, and it marked the first time I actively questioned the life I was living, the things I was studying, and what I wanted my future to look like.
After that auspicious moment, what did I do next? I stubbornly continued to follow that exact same, safe, “recipe for success” for four more years, in college.
After that auspicious moment, what did I do next? I stubbornly continued to follow that exact same, safe, “recipe for success” for four more years, in college. Predictably and disastrously, I remained unfulfilled and miserable. I had gotten everything that I had wanted, and then realized that I hadn’t wanted any of those things. No single-room apartment, top-class university, remarkable grades, or prestigious reputation could fill that hunger, that emptiness inside. High-school me knew what she was talking about. I hadn’t listened.
I’m in my senior year of college now, and I want to finally nourish myself with what I need, not what I think I should want. It turns out grade point averages aren’t very filling, so I’m searching for what can better heal my hunger. Recipes are a bit like oral tradition—though the lessons stay the same, the content and the way the story is told changes a little bit from generation to generation. I’ve never been good at cooking, but I want to try rewriting my “recipe for success.” I think four years has taught me how to work with seasoning.
Recipe for Success (subjective):
Ingredients:
-1 cup self-love
-1 cup kindness
-As much friendship as you can find
-2 ½ nice outfits for the week
-1 weekly cleaning
-At least 5 nights of restful sleep
-Sunlight and fresh air (found outdoors)
-Pet a dog or cat (also found outdoors) note: do not add if allergic
-Therapy to help strain the metaphorical pasta
-An open mind
-A sick beat
-A sturdy frying pan like the one Rapunzel had in Tangled (2010) to cook in and smack your enemies--sometimes this is your own brain.
Steps for cooking:
- Add one part friendship, two parts self-love. Take life one day at a time, and realize that life is more than grades and numbers on a screen. Mostly, it’s just wearing a silly little outfit and doing your work in a cafe while exuding main character energy.
- Romanticize what you can. Or, as esteemed chef Kim Salac once told me, do it for the bit. Working isn’t glorious or glamorous (I dream of labor much less now than I did when I was a courageous and overambitious highschooler. I’m not a coward now, but capitalistic contribution is simply no longer a priority) but do what you can. Did you hear that? Do what you can, not what they said you must.
- Take a walk while the thoughts are stirring. The knees creak with age. Graduating college makes me feel like I’m becoming geriatric. In many ways, I think I am. But oddly enough, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, so take walks often. Add in a little playlist to make it better.
- Practice compassion. The thing is, some things will always weigh on you. Some things will always taste a little off, too salty or spicy or sweet on your tongue. You did what you could. Keep an open mind, and replace any opportunity for self-hatred with a seasoning of kindness or compassion instead (for yourself and for others).
- Understand that happiness is a process, not a goal. It’s not a career, or a person, or a social group, or an award, or a dream body. It’s a little bit of all of these things, filling you slowly. Only you can fulfill yourself. As my roommate, another talented chef, once said: “The only way to be happy in the future is to keep doing what makes you happy right now.”
- Watch Tangled (2010) while eating. Make it a movie night and add friends for garnish. For similar examples, see photos from The Iris Supper featuring Kim Salac, Chloe Lyda, Sadie Randall, Kexuan Liu, Pasha McGuigan, and myself. The remaining Iris team were present in spirit.
I’m sure that in another four years, this recipe will have changed again. But that’s the beauty of growing, isn’t it? All these flavors, still yet unexplored—there’s a world out there for us to try. Practice self-love. Do what makes you happy. Salt to taste. I like to think that high-school me would like this dish much better.
