As Long As I’m Writing, Everything Counts (To Me)
it's OK if it doesn't make sense
In November, I wrote about being annoyed at the fact that a McDonald’s Filet-o-Fish was priced at $5.19 in my neighborhood.
Five hundred nineteen cents for a bun, a square piece of fish of questionable origins, half a slice of American (???) cheese, and tartar sauce.
I’m not even going to get into the fact that the Filet-O-Fish in its current iteration is about the size of a White Castle burger.
Like, if anything, the Filet-O-Fish meal with fries and a drink should be $5.19, but not the sandwich by itself. So I would like to speak to the fucking manager because this upset me, and I was thinking about it all weekend.
I was being cheeky. It was the type of thing I would consider a long-form social media post, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to feel any type of way about it. I posted it, and I moved on.
Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, I’m in the notes section of the site that hosts this blog, and I see someone has mentioned me. Specifically, they said my McDonald’s essay was one of their favorites from last year.
We had a little kiki over it. I appreciated their kind words and positive feedback on my writing.
I have drafts lying around unpublished for a variety of reasons, a constant one being: Is this really worth sharing? Or, does this count as writing?
That moment made me realize that not everything has to be deep. It’s OK to be silly, irreverent, and just talk about anything or nothing at all.
It’s OK to share the random thoughts that come into my head, and they don’t have to make sense.
The important thing is to get the words out on paper (or, in this case, on the screen).
Sometimes the silliest thoughts that don’t seem to be about anything mean something to someone else.
I was just waxing poetic about two for $2 Big Macs when I was growing up. That's how I found out I was allergic to the eggs found in thousand Island dressing. This was upon the re-release of the apple pie today. Long story short, inflation sucks