WRITINGS & NEWS
Got my best fortune ever tonight:
A few weeks ago, I grabbed two fortunes on the way out of my Chinese place. The first said:
"Someone in your life needs a letter from you."
The second:
"A cheerful message is on its way to you."
So, at least one of those fortunes was not mine.
I didn't even eat Chinese food this time, someone just stopped by with a leftover cookie since they knew of my talent with fortunes. This one was a weird one, though:
"Alas! The onion you are eating is someone else's water lily."I don't really know what that means, but I'm pretty sure it's a bad sign. Of course, it's usually a bad sign if your fortune starts out with "alas!"
I got a really good one the other day, something about how I was superior to all my friends. It was quite something, but I got up to use the restroom and somebody cleared the table, including said fortune, in my absence. Now I've forgotten the details.
Speaking of details, I received a surprisingly specific one today:
"You naturally accumulate knowledge and look at its broader implications."
Well, it's nice whenever my clarity of big-picture vision is appreciated like that.
If you've ever eaten Chinese food with me - and even if you haven't - you've probably heard me brag about how I have good luck with fortune cookies.
You scoff, of course, but I've had my share of stunners. I've shared a story or two on the blog, I think - I must have at least told the L.A. story. If not, here it is:
While in film school, I went out to get Chinese food one afternoon with some of my new classmates. I believe it was still early in the semester, since I was still trying to get my classmates to grow fond of me to the point that by the end of term we would call each other "chums" and call each other to explain what a ripping good time we'd had at hols. My early impressions of film school seem to have been heavily influenced by books like The Hardy Boys Do A Year At Brighton. Anyway, to achieve this end, I was relying on my standard strategy for gaining people's approval, which is of course bragging about myself.
As we finished up our meal, I reached for my fortune cookie and announced my consistent good luck with these fortunes. I brought up the many times I had received glowing approvals of my abilities, including the one that said "you are always right," the one that said "your ideas are better than everyone else's," and the one that, without me even having to tack on my own ending, declared that I was quite something in bed. Proof positive of my excellence.
My classmates, Philistines all, voiced their dissension. "No one's good at getting fortunes, Ben. It's just dumb luck."
I held my cookie aloft and smiled craftily. "I have luck whenever I need it. Watch this. It'll say it right there." I cracked the cookie open. The fortune read "You are lucky in all you attempt." I hollered in triumph and did a victory lap around the Farmer's Market. Despite the proof of my supernatural talents, no one ever ended up calling me "chum," but I feel that I won the day anyhow.
I bring this up because I've been in a slump. A cold spell. I haven't gotten a good fortune in a long time. I mean sure, I've gotten a couple decent ones: "You will soon be victorious" was pretty nice; but it's not like it used to be. Sometimes I end up opening more than one cookie at a Chinese restaurant, hoping for a little bit of magic again. I'm pushing, and I know it. I'm watching my average tumble towards the Mendoza line, wondering if I ever had it at all, or was it all just a fluke.
Tonight, though, it happened again; a solemn promise right there, just after my sweet and sour chicken:
"You will become an accomplished writer."
Hot dog. I'm back.
Have I ever mentioned how good I am at getting excellent fortunes every time I eat Chinese food?
I know that's a strange talent to be proud of, but I'm stunningly lucky at them for someone so generally misbegotten. Most people get things like "life is a hard road, but those who persevere are stronger for it," or "think happier thoughts." I generally get things like "the people around you will come to see your ideas are superior," and "it will be hard for people to not fall in love with you."
Those are both real fortunes I've gotten.
I once bragged about this to a group of my friends, and they laughed and scoffed (I have great friends, you see). "No one's good at getting fortunes," they pointed out. "It's just all chance."
"I really am," I replied. "I know it sounds weird, but I'm lucky at it."
I had the poor judgment to be holding an unopened fortune cookie in my hands while I said this.
"Prove it," they said.
"I'm going to," I said, cracking open the fortune cookie with a bravado that, to this day, I have no idea where it came from. "I'm just very lucky this. I'll show you."
"No way. Nobody's lucky at this."
"I am. I'm just very lucky."
I pulled out the slip of paper and read my fortune aloud: "You are very lucky."
They stared at me open-mouthed. "There's no way that actually happened," one of them whispered.
I bring this story up because a few days ago, I cracked open a fortune cookie and read: "Your ability to find the silly in the serious will take you far." I don't know what that means, exactly, but I am so pumped for this.
In a related note, I'm starting the writing process for my musical adaptation of Hotel Rwanda this week.
