Putting On My Face: When I Grow Up

I’d like to preface this story with the fact that I am now twenty-eight years old.

To the age old question of what I want to be when I grow up, I’ve had the following answers: ballerina, actress, famous actress, Julliard grad who becomes a Tony Award-Winning Actress, and that’s it. Well, except for when I in elementary school, dashed off a story about aliens with matching uniforms. won a creative writing contest hosted by the town library, was given a desk handcrafted by Certainly Wood (the town’s handcrafted wood store), and had my face splashed across the front page of the newspaper. At that point I was evidently a “writer.”

My parents were proud. I had a new desk on which to write. We went out to dinner at The Ground Round (complete New England chain – does it still exist?). The librarians seemed to know me by name, which in of itself was better than any type of fame I’d previously imagined. For a while, this new profession didn’t seem so bad. The next year I wrote about magical gymnasts in fluorescent leotards and was relegated to third place. The prize was a bookshelf. Everyone seemed to find that so incredibly cute. Look at the little writer with her handcrafted wood desk on which to write and her handcrafted wood bookshelf on which to place her favorite books. If the newspaper reporter had asked the winners about their favorite books, I probably would’ve blurted out, “Any Babysitter’s Club book every written. Ever.”

I did not yet understand that impressions were important.

Guess I’ve blown them with you people. Oh well.

Point is I’ve tried on a lot of faces in my life, and I’m still figuring it out. Feels strange to be doing that while so many of my friends are literally growing up to become parents, where their kids will probably enter library-sponsored creative writing contests in the same town I did. But hey, I’m a strange kid, and I still feel like a kid. And like any kid, I’m going through some growing pains, and this blog is too. I think you can probably already see the shift away from a traditional food blog with daily recipes. There won’t be too much of that. If you stick around  for Quick Cook Rice’s trip through puberty you can expect more awkward stories of my teenage life at 28, tales from life on the road as a vegan, and general adventures of my American life.  Sometimes there will be recipes from me, but I hope to have recipes from others and especially from other non-bloggers I encounter. You know, people you might not otherwise hear from. And like any good teenager, the site will go through some physical changes eventually. Don’t be alarmed. It’s still me.

I was talking with a friend yesterday, one I’m newly reunited with (more on that soon!), and I was saying how my vegan life is like committing yourself to a more conscious life on all levels. Really and truly. I’ve heard misinformed individuals say that vegans care about animals more than people, and I know from experience that’s so incredibly wrong. A vegan life means caring more about life period. End of story.

Well, in this case, I hope it’s just the beginning of the story.