There’s also some bonding in the forced intimacy of cooking together in my apartment kitchen, which is roughly the size of a cereal box. I’ve figured out that sharing tasks with a friend helps me find the motivation to cook, shop for groceries more carefully, and be more creative with meal planning. The trick for me is finding a healthy balance between a mindless college-cafeteria diet and my own expression of the emotional maturity my family encouraged me to develop when we all pushed ourselves to eat in a way that made our bodies and hearts feel full. I also have days when I shop and cook thoughtfully and feel like a grown-up. I have my days, as most college students do, when I eat pizza in bed and tell myself tomato sauce is a vegetable. Once while I was babysitting a sweet little girl, she asked me earnestly if I was a baby or a mommy? I was surprised at how difficult it was for me to answer. I’ve found it can be tough to save the world when you’re a twenty-year-old with a minimum wage job. Excerpts from “Building a Pantheon,” new chapter written for the Tenth Anniversary Edition
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