I wish I had more time to write this essay, but alas, Mother Nature hates me and has left me stranded in the middle of nowhere. "Nowhere" being a Residence Inn in a hotel park on the outskirts of Chicago's smaller airport: Midway.

I could've started this assignment earlier, so as to avoid this time constraint of a dilemma (I have twenty minutes before I have to go) but then it wouldn't exactly be this way. If I had more time, I would've written some cheesy "this is what my grandmother taught me through her traditional Chinese dishes" essay. However, I figure it'd be more interesting to write about the clearance Ben and Jerry's Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream I just bought and am currently consuming.

I realize that you, the reader, probably wouldn't consider a subpar, half-melted pint of orange gloop to be life changing and worthy of the title "most important meal of my life", but I can see its importance. It's provided me with means to escape a zero in Home Access Center.

It's also a testament to how weak my self control is. (Even though I now have nineteen minutes to state my case, I find my fingers still leaving the keyboard and returning to the spoon.)

I'm not even that hungry. I'm sitting in a dank hotel room. It's silent besides the frantic typing of my roommate's keyboard. That frantic typing mirrors my sentiment exactly. I can't exactly point out an important meal in my life, so I'm scrambling for ideas when in actuality, I have none.

This ice cream isn't important to me. It's this act of anxious eating I guess that's important to me. Why am I anxious over typing an essay? I'm not, I'm just projecting (haha) (that wasn't very funny, but bear with me, I have eleven minutes left).

I guess onto the matter of anxious eating, it's not what I'm eating, but what the act provides for me. Some people pull their hair, some fiddle their fingers, and others fidget uncontrollably. I just eat.

Maybe it's a conscious decision I need to make. Maybe I need to focus on the important things in life: my writing, my relationships and the disappearance of the Oxford comma in this sentence. All this nervous energy I'm projecting into this clearance pint of Ben and Jerry's could probably cure cancer if I utilized it appropriately.

Gosh darn, if I didn't waste all this time eating just for the sake of eating I'd probably have enough money to actually buy more clothes for the impromptu extension our trip. (To be fair, the ice cream was on clearance.)

So uh, here I am. I have to go, and it's a shame that I got to the crux of my argument before the end. I wish I could definitely point out the most important meal of my life, but it's hard to do that when you don't even eat in "meals". Meals are for when hunger hits. Most of what I eat is because I'm frickity frackity anxious.

Okay. I actually have to go now, wish I could've turned this into something better. Peace.