wan·der·lust: June 2009

... In Bed

I’m about to finish The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food by Jennifer 8. Lee. It was recommended by the blogger of Gastronomy, a site I frequent (these days) every day. I’m at the part of the book where Lee describes the evolution of the fortune found inside the cookies, how certain fortunes have been eliminated due to complaints, how the lucky numbers are chosen, when they decided to do away with the opening “Confucius says…”

Lee came about writing the book when she started doing research on a particular Powerball lottery where over 100 people in various states got five out of the six numbers right. All of these people had gotten their numbers from a fortune cookie.

Here’s an excerpt from the book:

Other fortunes that have drawn complaints, and the complainers:
"Lighten up a bit": a man and his wife, both overweight.
"You will soon inherit a large sum of money": people who interpreted it as auguring the death of a loved one.
"It’s your turn to pick up the check": Californians guffawed; southerners found it gauche.
"Women marry because they don’t want to work": an irate fiancée in the 1950s.
"Don’t kill a chicken for an egg": people who had obviously never heard the parable of the goose who laid golden eggs.
"You’ll be going on a long voyage": a woman whose husband died shortly after getting that message.
Anything religious: anyone not religious.

As I was reading this particular chapter – about how seriously people can take fortunes masked as Chinese philosophy but really written by some unknown person – it dawned on me that in my own life, I have kept one fortune and it’s actually played a significant role in my life. It brought me to Alaska.

I immediately went to find the fortune, knowing exactly where it is, in my fancy faux-leather folder that can hold a notepad, several pieces of paper, some business cards, and is embossed with the name of my alma mater (this was my college graduation gift from Abby).

This is what the fortune says:

It’s those five words that took me from living in my mother’s house in Putnam Valley, NY to moving to Wrangell, Alaska to write for a newspaper. In the summer of 2005, just after I returned from Hong Kong, I was commuting 30 minutes to be a waitress. As soon as I got that fortune (I can make a guess at where I got it, but I can’t be certain), those five words haunted me and compelled me to, in earnest, look for a real job. A fortune cookie somehow forced me to write an email to inquire about a job in Alaska that I saw on Craig’s List, and to eventually write a cover letter and apply.

Those words made so much sense to me. During that summer and fall, I was worried. I was worried every morning I woke up, every moment during the day when I had the time to think, and every night as I fell asleep. I worried about what the hell I was going to do. And the only action I could do was apply for jobs. It was the most perfect fortune I could’ve received at the time. It’s ridiculous to imagine what my life would’ve been had I not found those words between a folded manila cookie, but it’s a valid thought.

The fortune, as I said, has been kept for almost four years in that folder. What else is in that folder? A copy of my college transcript, a copy of an old resume with edits from an ex-boyfriend, another version of my resume (with changes from the edits), and a blank envelope. These were the documents that were important to me at the time. They somehow reflected what I had achieved with my life. Four years later, I’d like to think I have more to show for myself.

Perhaps I should take the fortune out of hiding and leave it out as a reminder. Action is still worry’s worst enemy, and I’m, again, worried.

Bidding to Write

My “office” for today and the past two days has been the Wrangell Medical Center. I recently won a bid to write their summer newsletter. I’ve never bid on anything professional, but let’s just say I made myself cheap and won the bid by a landslide. The taste of employment, even for a few days, can sometimes be priceless.

It’s been eight months since I was a reporter and while newsletter writing is not exactly reporting, it still involves tracking people down, interviewing them, and sometimes breaking down that invisible wall and getting to something really personal. It feels oddly weird and comforting to find myself doing something I’m actually good at.