Day 127: There's Always Room For ...

I've always liked Jell-O. It goes perfectly with whipped cream (even the cheap Reddi-Whip kind), you can push it through teeny gaps in your teeth, it tastes just as good when it's sugar-free, it makes great shots (okay, that was college), and even though it sounds kinda creepy to say, I like the way it jiggles.

I'm also fond of Jell-O because, just like the Marshmallow EQ Test (Day 126), it helps me understand how to tackle the whole "Nature vs. Nurture" thing. If the marshmallow test speaks largely to the way we're hard-wired, the Jell-O Theory is more concerned with the hand we're dealt once we start breathing.

So, here's my theory. We're all born as different kinds of
Jell-O: different colors, different flavors, different molds, some with fruit, some plain, etc. When we're born, we're in a liquid state, and we're placed in a refrigerator to set.

Now, for some people, that refrigerator is carefully tended. The temperature is just right, no one jostles it, the shelf is nice and even ... and the resulting bowl of Jell-O is something pretty and even with nice clean edges.

Unfortunately, most people don't set quite that happily. There might be attempts at careful tending, but shit just ... happens. Maybe Uncle Walter is over one night, and when he reaches in the fridge to grab a beer, he accidentally knocks the bowl and sends Jell-O sloshing up the sides. Or maybe kids are roughhousing in the kitchen when one of them slams into the refrigerator, and the bowl tips slightly to one side. Or maybe the power goes out for a while, and the setting process is interrupted.

From there, it's a question of degree. Just how badly is the refrigerator rocked while the Jell-O is trying to set?
In a worst case scenario, the whole thing falls - or gets pushed over - and the bowl spills everywhere (this would account for your serial killers, sociopaths, etc.). Luckily, it takes a lot of effort to down a refrigerator.

However we happen to set, though, the thing about Jell-O is that there's no such thing as a do-over. You can't re-dissolve Jell-O. Once we're firmed up, we only have two choices: we can either spend our lives hating the way we've set, desperate to cut away the parts that are uneven or out of place, or we can learn to appreciate the imperfections. (Note: This does not apply to worst-case scenarios, whose choices tend to be serious meds and/or imprisonment.)

As someone who's spent most of her life worrying about all the ways she didn't set right, the Imperfection Appreciation angle has been a tough sell. It's why change is so hard for
me - in order to truly ditch my need for emotional masking agents, I have to be happy with what lies beneath.

I may never be the kind of person who finds it easy to wait for the second marshmallow. In fact, I'm guessing that's pretty much a given by now. But I can be the kind of person who's at peace with the way her Jell-O set.

On some level, I guess that's what this experiment is all about.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's post: The Pixie Stix Polemic.

The Fun With Jell-O gallery:

The total Jell-O aquarium ..................................... Who's got Jell-O for brains?

One small section of artist Elizabeth Hickock's Jell-O-Vision of San Franscisco.