How to Get Your Egg on the Plate
For years the world of blogging has eluded me. I’ve sat idly by as many friends (and, indeed, a single member of family) have embarked on these bold new adventures. (They’d have to be new. There’s hardly any boldness in reused adventures.) I could do little but watch from the window with a wistful hand on the glass and an emptiness in my soul.
No longer!
The tides have turned. The tables are at sea. I’ve found something untouched — something worth speaking on. I’ll admit, I’m not usually one to use language so extreme as that which I’m about to, I’m definitely walking on eggshells here, but sometimes crudeness is compulsory. (TW: Vulgarity) I am appalled.
I’ve been on the internet longer than I’ve been alive. Yet nowhere have I ever seen so much as a proposition for a solution to the titular problem. Today, that changes.
Now, going into this, I knew it was a heavy undertaking. You might even call it an overtaking. (I wouldn’t, but you’re free to.) Thus, I was acutely aware that I couldn’t do this on my own. So, I’ve brought in my former roommate and current friend Wyatt, pictured immediately below.
To help me, I mean. I’ve brought him in to help me, not needlessly. Wyatt here (pictured above) has gone through the trouble of assembling all the resources we’ll need for this mission. He’ll be walking us through the process of getting your egg onto the plate. Your plate. Thy plate.
Now hold on, don’t get too eggcited too fast. We’re not in a scramble here. This can be an arduous task, there are a lot of risks, both mental and physical. Some trying often encroach upon the metaphysical. The aim is to proceed not solely with enthusiasm, but also with care. We want to minimize the risks and, if we can’t completely eliminate them, at least save them for later. (Know that you alone are liable for any consequences and/or damages incurred while trying this.)
Before we start, just take a second. Think about what you’re about to do.
You feel that? That tingle of excitement? As do we. Don’t get carried away though, such matters aren’t for the faint of heart.
Preparation is key. Over time, I’ve observed that some approach such a problem with a great deal of trepidation over physical constraints. If you bear any such fears, let them go. This is a challenge not against the fragility of form but rather the soundness of mind. So arm yourself, not with might but with ambition. (You will need hands though.) With that in mind, we may move onto the gathering of resources. Reach into your spirit, call upon your ancestors and begg them to grant you safe passage in your hunt.
Disregard the applesauce for now(its day will come), we’re eyeing the eggs here. You can pick any egg you want, although its better if it hasn’t been opened yet. Runny yolk is not a beast we’re equipped to tackle. Nor, for that matter, is solid yolk, but I guess that might not be as bad. Anyway(/how/who. This is actually a constant source of indecision for me, the anyway/anyhow/anywho choice. What the fuck? What’s the logic behind it? The word ‘anywhere,’ now that’s something I understand. That word has a very definite meaning. But with these three, there seems to be capacity to use them interchangeably. None has its own unique context. I just don’t get it, man. Nor am I sure of whether the lack of a period after the upcoming closing parenthesis is grammatically correct, given that there was no period after ‘anyway’ but there have been several within this little tangent. Should I have placed one before? Is the risk of having two sentence fragments really so much greater than just one? Does it count as two anyway? We’re sticking with it now but it’s going to keep me up at night. Now that I’ve said it, though, maybe it’ll keep you up at night, too. We could be up at night together, thinking about this one syntactic dubiety. Wouldn’t that be cute?)
Be careful when withdrawing your egg from the carton. If possible, avoid bumping it against any of the other eggs, lest they become self-aware.
Wyatt’s grip here is exceptional. This can be hard to recognize because of the nuance, but he’s had years of practice, so I can’t really fault him for making it look so effortless. From the get-go, we can see that he’s avoiding one possibly fatal mistake: clutching your egg. Don’t clutch your egg. Don’t go around clutching anyone’s egg. That’s psychopath behavior. You can go straight to solitary with that shit, and I’d say it’s insufficient punishment. You want to let it breathe, allow the shell some exposure, though not so much that it combusts. Wyatt’s thumb is at the optimal angle as well, ready to snap down and catch the egg should it begin to fall, but still giving it some space. He’s relieving it of any pressure — societal or otherwise.
The real beauty, however, is that which you cannot quite see. Notice the position of the egg. It’s been placed perfectly on the border of Wyatt’s palm and fingers. No mere coincidence. What he’s doing here is actually clutching the surface of the egg between the creases of his fingers and his palm, a technique achieved by flexing the fingers as hard as required, but not so hard that the egg cracks. Tightness of the wrist is also of paramount importance, as the angle dictates how much power can flow through to the fingers. Additionally, it’s this tightness of the wrist and how effectively you can moderate it that is determinant in the next step, rolling your egg onto the plate. (Your plate.)
The main thing you want to pay attention to is the egg’s shadow. Have you ever seen those movies where the guy looks into his telescope before shooting with the bullet? It’s exactly like that, except this is real life. That means real consequences. You, however, needn’t fret. If you’ve made it to this point, I can only assume you’re somewhat on track with our directions thus far, so you’re probably doing okay.
Watch the shadow. Feel the egg. Not in a creepy way, but a soulful one. Speak to it. Be present with it. Align the yoga stuff. Let your skin and the shell become one, allow the yolk to flow through your soul as does the stream of life. Then, when you’re ready, when you feel in tune, let it gently roll out onto the plate.
And there you have it. You’ve finally done it. Your egg is on the plate.
Eggcelent work.
We’re proud of you.
