That One Time An Onion Made Me Cry
Updated: Apr 2
Okay, so my Blogspot was beginning to look a little 2008. I know it seems like there have not been many updates in a while and well--you're totally right. I've been working on assembling this fancy new platform and transferring some of my other work over, including previous blog posts worth salvaging (some are real rough, like, I wrote about having scabies).
So welcome to my fancy new ~website~. Now that the background work is somewhat complete, I will be able to start updating regularly again! I'm super stoked to be able to share a space that also includes my previously published works and other pieces I'm proud of! In the communications world, we would call this a "one-stop shop" (but a Jordan "one-stop shop" would actually probably be small gift shop with little animal figurines, magic tricks, VHS tapes, and visors embroidered "I went to Jordan's One-Stop Shop and all I got was this super awesome visor").
Soon, my creative toe-dipping could evolve into a full out cannonball, for I hope to add some videos and other fun stuff as well! As always, thank you for your support. The texts and personal messages responding to my writing never fail to light up my day. I write to be honest and give you something to relate to. Or, if you're reading this and totally judging me, then congrats! I made you feel better about yourself in some way and confirmed that you probably are cooler than me.
And so, I leave you with this small, pointless anecdote as I wrap up my first post on my new site:
That One Time An Onion Made Me Cry
My boyfriend and I moved in with a good friend of ours about three months ago. We went from a two room (plus a closet-sized kitchen and bathroom) apartment on the edge of German Village to a three story town home in a suburb. Not only do I roll all over the place, hugging all of the extra space, but cooking has become less of challenge now that we have actual counters.
In our previous apartment, the cooking would be done shoulder to shoulder, with Tobias (boyfriend for your first timers) tending to the meat on our too small gas stove top and me chopping vegetables on a television tray that has a picture of a rooster on the top (we call them our cock trays).
In the past, Tobias had always cut the onions. Most of the time, he was worried about me slicing myself because I have ridiculously small hands and sometimes struggle with basic motor skills (my mom used to make me practice cutting and tracing as a child because she was concerned). During this evening, I was going to cut an onion for the very first time. I thought of cartoons including characters sobbing while cutting an onion and got really excited. I was going to have a stereotypical moment, crying while cutting an onion.
I began to cut, and everything was going smoothly. I tilted my face down, opening my eyes widely. And nothing happened.
"Why am I not crying?!" I demanded. "Do onions actually make you cry?"
Tobias was trying not to burn himself on the blue flame and not elbow me in the head at the same time (we were that close) and sighed. "They do make you cry. You might not be close enough. Why would you want to cry anyway?"
I pulled my knife downward, the white cave parting, showing the layers. I bent down as close as I could, my right eyeball almost touching the onion. If I blinked, I was sure my eyelashes would brush the inside. And suddenly I felt a sensation close to what I imagine sprinkling gasoline in your eye would be like.
"Agghh!" I shrieked, dramatic as usual. Tobias, thinking I cut myself turned quickly to see tears watering down my cheeks. "Oh my God, my eye!" I yelled.
My eye went from watering to full out crying. My vision was blurry, and it hurt. I could remember getting soap in my eye as a kid, and this seemed so much worse. The burning and the fuzzy vision was making me panic, like hypochondriacs often do.
I jumped to the nearest couch cushion, drawing my feet under me, pressing my palm to my eye. "It hurts so badly. Why would I do that? Am I going to be okay?" I rocked, pulling my hand away to look at my shiny wet palm.
Tobias now stood over me, laughing in disbelief that I wanted so desperately to cry from cutting an onion that I practically rubbed my eye on it. After a couple of minutes of thinking I would never recover, the watering slowed and my vision returned. I stumbled to the bathroom mirror to see that my eye was clearly irritated, glossy and red.
I pulled my head farther from the mirror and as my face went into focus, I smiled at myself. I had gotten the experience I wanted, and it was far more intense than I ever could have imagined. Also, I probably wouldn't be cutting onions any time soon. Not without protective eye gear, at least.
So, lesson of the day: If you want something bad enough, make it happen---even if you make strange choices and end up getting hurt. Don't be afraid to stick your eye in an onion, like I am with this website.
I'm sure I'll smile at myself later.