I was pacing the hall as I spoke into my mobile phone. On the edge and alert to a possible ring of the door bell, I was distracted. I was sure that my voice was unusually loud enough for the neighbours, curious as they are, to come knocking to check on me. I was talking to my best friend, or one of my best friends. Actually, I have never been able to fully appreciate the idea of a best friend. I've wondered about friendship and its supposed degrees. But each time, I've concluded that I might be suffering from some congenital flaw that keeps me from sensing friendship in its different grades, much as I'm blind to the spectrum that makes up white light. So, it is only fair to state what made me reach for that tenuous appellation of best friend. This friend has simply been an ocean in the face of the mounds of salt that are my quirks, intolerances and infirmities. Thus, by best I'm only trying to point, dare I say it, to her staying power and the seemingly unfathomable depth of the comfort I share with her. Is that an apt usage? I'd sure want to know.
Returning to the call, it was again one of those which wanted to last and cast about for topics as the sun does for darkness: the quest was unending and untiring. And I had to shout for she'd been temporarily rendered hard of hearing by the deafening music playing on her shuttle back home. Then, my friend said: "I want to change your eating habits and make you crave for chicken and mutton and fish," chortling before letting silence take over the line. That was enough to focus my flickering concentration. My response was prompt. I called her plan wicked, and only stopped short of terming her a sadist. This wasn't the first time she had broached non-vegetarianism. And, from what I know of her, this won't be the last. She has always found my sensitivity to non-vegetarian (NV) food humorously and surprisingly odd. And, from time to time, she is intrigued to further probe it. I suppose her drive is a combination of wanting to understand what causes my response - something that she thinks qualifies me as a specimen - and her desire to normalize me by performing the root canal that would extinguish it.
After the latest exchange on NV, however, I asked myself a slight variant of a question regarding my food habits that a former colleague had asked. Her question was: "Are you a vegetarian by birth or by choice?" That it was an ambush amid a technical discussion perhaps contributed to its ability to stupefy me. After a pause I babbled the politically correct "both." Having given it thought since, I believe I might only have been able to improve upon the distinctness of the uttered word had I more time. Anyway, the question that gripped my mind this time was 'Had I been sensitized to non-vegetarian food, or was I innately sensitive to it?' I guess this is a question we can ask of most of our attitudes.
Returning to the call, it was again one of those which wanted to last and cast about for topics as the sun does for darkness: the quest was unending and untiring. And I had to shout for she'd been temporarily rendered hard of hearing by the deafening music playing on her shuttle back home. Then, my friend said: "I want to change your eating habits and make you crave for chicken and mutton and fish," chortling before letting silence take over the line. That was enough to focus my flickering concentration. My response was prompt. I called her plan wicked, and only stopped short of terming her a sadist. This wasn't the first time she had broached non-vegetarianism. And, from what I know of her, this won't be the last. She has always found my sensitivity to non-vegetarian (NV) food humorously and surprisingly odd. And, from time to time, she is intrigued to further probe it. I suppose her drive is a combination of wanting to understand what causes my response - something that she thinks qualifies me as a specimen - and her desire to normalize me by performing the root canal that would extinguish it.
After the latest exchange on NV, however, I asked myself a slight variant of a question regarding my food habits that a former colleague had asked. Her question was: "Are you a vegetarian by birth or by choice?" That it was an ambush amid a technical discussion perhaps contributed to its ability to stupefy me. After a pause I babbled the politically correct "both." Having given it thought since, I believe I might only have been able to improve upon the distinctness of the uttered word had I more time. Anyway, the question that gripped my mind this time was 'Had I been sensitized to non-vegetarian food, or was I innately sensitive to it?' I guess this is a question we can ask of most of our attitudes.
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