If there is one thing that I can point to from my summer so far, and say, 'Yes, this is the essense of it, this is the great secret I have learned', it is the following:
Without any doubt, it* is absolutely in no way about me me me.
Not that I'd never suspected this before, but now it is confirmed. Which of course begs the question, if it's not about me, then what is it about?
I believe it is about sichuan pepper (not readily available in my part of Denmark, thus imported from the suburbs of Northern California). It has the taste, the punch, it numbs and exhilarates. It in fact does everything and is about everything, meaning that everything is about it. Oh, and it makes for a beautiful Kung Pao Chicken.
Speaking of which, please ignore the lack of Chinese lettuce in the chicken. It's still damn good even without. I'd recommend it served on rice, in a small bowl, eaten with chopsticks.
* It here could be read as an empty subject, as in the 'it' in 'It's raining.' However, you could fill this 'it' with anything you'd like, and it still would work...life, the world, happiness, pain, joy, agony, sex, drugs, rock and roll...you decide. Whatever you choose, it will be, by definition, something that is not about me.