Written (mostly) while waiting for my takeout order.

Hunger brings out the worst in people. You see it in restaurants every day. Otherwise patient folks get testy (”Where’s my refill?”) and suspicious (”I bet she forgot to put our order in.”) if they have to wait two minutes for food and drink. Is it any wonder that so many cooks and servers smoke? They have to deal with the stress somehow.

Maybe that’s why fasting is a ritual in more than one religion. It forces you to confront yourself at your lowest. I fasted for twenty-four hours once. It was torture. I didn’t even feel human at the end.

All of which brings to mind a popular misconception: that asceticism is somehow linked to self-righteousness. The world tends to think that those who abstain from temptation or vice have a pretty high opinion of themselves. I believe that, in reality, those who exercise the most self-control are most aware of just how bad they are. Conversely, one who indulges himself in everything has no idea. He always silences the little devil on his shoulder by giving it everything it wants.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my afternoon snack break.