she gave me fritos

on the Monday of my final week at work, a volunteer who visits the office on a regular basis gave me a bag of Fritos. her name is Mary Anna, and for some reason she thinks i have some kind fetish for corn products. it might be a byproduct of her offering me the remainder of a bag of chips from lunch one day and i scarfed it down immediately. the thing is, there probably isn't much i wouldn't scarf down, save that which is trash (yet i think even food taken from the garbage is negotiable, depending on its degree of spoil).

so she gave me plain Fritos. not the fancy red torch barbeque, filet minot with hint of lime, nor the stawberry daiquiri; just plain old Fritos. salt, corn, and oil never tasted so good. then i got to thinking while i was pouring breakfast down my throat; what's really in this bag? what idea, what telling notion of myself? and as i continued to pour i continued to look at the back of the bag-- its metalic silver walls--not quite a counterpart likeness of myself, which is probably good because if i were to be looking for an insight and i caught a glimpse of myself, i would be startled and severely disappointed. it's just me, i would say, and self would diminish even further. so as i was accompanied by a bag of chips in all its corn, salt, and oil i realized, if only all things in life could reflect the same trifold simplicity. and that's what i wanted. simplicity. when she gave me Fritos and she gave me simplicity.