The only thing better than waking up an hour before the alarm and falling back into the sweet comforts of sleep is a midnight instant ramen.
I used to be critical of Eve from the Bible. As a rule follower, I was always confused about how she could not resist the one rule she had. That was until I realized I had my own forbidden fruit: instant ramen. My grandma always told me that instant ramen would cause me to go blind, lose my hair, get cancer, and ultimately die. I can't even count the number of videos I have been forced to watch about ramen production. It's not as bad as sausage production videos, but not amazing either. To compromise, we made a deal. I would be able to eat one ramen a week.
So, once a week, after I leave my desk scattered with loose papers and smudged with paint from a project, I light a small candle. It's important that the candle has a very mild scent, too rosy and the ramen starts tasting loopy. Then, as I begin boiling water, I rummage through our pantry's box of ramen. It's like a small library for noodles, with all sorts of covers. There are bright bold ones with lots of pictures and there are subtle, delicate ones. I've found to realize that the packaging and descriptions do not always match with the actual ramen. As the brick of hard noodles begins dissipating into long, curly strands, I nibble on the little curly chunks that always seem to break off.
There's something about the silence of the night, when my family is asleep, mixed with my tongue being borderline burned and the adrenaline I get from the MSG and spice of the soup that is oddly nostalgic. This little period of time of me just slurping and chewing is a special time I get to spend with me, myself, and I.
When I first started these ramen nights, I always put on a movie or a show also. Looking back, I realize I wasn't even really understanding or comprehending the plot, the characters, or the movie at all. I think it was an attempt to not be by myself. Over the years, I have found that my most formidabble monster is often my own thoughts. They can be a little, no, very, insane, confusing, and frightening. There's also something that's awkward (is that the right word?) about being by yourself. Maybe that's why so many people are afraid to go to the movie alone or go to a restaurant alone. As the weeks went by, I started to abandon my failed attempts of avoiding my thoughts, putting away the iPad, turning off the music, shelving the book, and facing myself.
It was very awkward (yes, that's the right word) in the beginning. The silence that I now find comforting was haunting and I rushed to finish my bowl, thinking more about the burning sensation in my mouth than anything else. Now, my time with my thoughts are like a little break or a time to sort myself out. During the day and the bustle of school and life, my thoughts and mind become a tangled mess, so it is during my ramen dates with myself when I can smoothen them and understand them.
I created Barely There as a way to organize my thoughts, ponderings, and musings. It will not be perfect or neat, but I hope it resonates with someone out there, sparking their own reflections. Barely There is a bit of a weird name and oxymoronic with its purpose, but it's a reminder to always be there for myself, me, and I. So, I invite you to join me on my late night noodle dates and bear through some shower, or rather, noodle thoughts. <3
Cheers,
emma