There are two types of people in the world: People who eat breakfast everyday, and people like myself who have not figured out how to be an adult yet.
Yup, this is going to be an entire blog about breakfast. I’m oddly fascinated by people who manage to eat breakfast every single day. As a 23 year old, who struggles with even the simplest “adult” tasks and responsibilities, someone cooking breakfast for themself every day is essentially the most impressive thing I can think of. Breakfast on a daily basis is similar to making your bed every morning. It’s a simple thing that idiots and children, two groups I include myself in, think is a “real adult” thing to do. Whenever I make my bed I’m filled with this odd sense of satisfaction like I did something responsible and grown-up. I’m very much aware that that is a ridiculous sensation for anyone over the age of 7 to have, and it is absurd for me to be like “wow, look at me, I’m a big boy” after making my bed at the age of 23. But, it stems from the same place that my interest in the breakfast-eater’s of the world stems from, which is my complete lack of any actual knowledge about what being an adult consists of. In my head, the image of an adult is just someone who makes their bed and eats an omelette in their work clothes at 7:30 in the morning. That’s all it takes to be a grown-up for me. I am on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from those people though. I never eat breakfast. For me, “breakfast” is ordering an egg sandwich on Uber Eats hungover at 11:00am on a Saturday. That’s the only time breakfast occurs in my world, because even though I’m at the age where I’m supposed become an adult, I do not know how to do that, and I certainly do not feel like one at all. Basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think found a way to examine the existential crisis I, and so many people around my age, are going through, while talking about eggs and shit.
Like I said I never eat breakfast, I do love breakfast though, as well as breakfast food. We basically found a way to eat unhealthy food, but not feel guilty about it because we branded it as “the most important meal of the day.” Which is really quite a label to give a meal when you think about it. I would argue that the drunk pizza I eat after a night at the bars is a meal of greater importance and value to my own life personally, but I suppose that doesn’t happen every day so it doesn’t qualify. Nevertheless, we’ve all been told that breakfast is, in fact, the most important meal of the day, for our whole lives, and is probably true. Which is why I wonder what it must be like for these mystical adult figures who actually eat some sort of breakfast on a daily basis. Do their brains actually work when they get to their job in the morning. This is a phenomenon I have not yet been fortunate enough to experience. Instead, I choose to operate under the theory that the first 30 minutes of work just don’t count (I also applied this idea to any morning class in college and the first couple periods of the day in high school.) Honestly, my brain doesn’t really start performing at full power until at least an hour in to the work day. They say you only use about 10% of your brain, but when I first arrive to work with a sleep-deprived brain, a body lacking any sort of nutrients, and possibly a small hangover depending on the day, there is no way I’m operating at even 3%.
It is that ability to operate so efficiently in the morning that confirms my belief that making breakfast every day is too much of an adult activity for me. When I hear someone speak about having enough free time in the morning to prepare a meal, my reaction is not dissimilar to someone from a different country telling me about their unique customs and way of living. It’s that foreign to me. My morning routine does not consist of any free time. It consists of things like, frantically searching for clothes to wear because I haven’t done laundry in three weeks, and debating whether I have enough time to iron a wrinkled article of clothing or not. I usually decide on no when it comes to that question. Grown-ups have the ability to manage their time though. That to me is what separates whatever the fuck I am, from real adults. People around my age like to cover up the fact that we have no clue how to do things by saying stuff like, “I don’t like to plan things out too much,” or “I just really like to live in the moment.” When the truth is, no Jacob (Jacob is all of us), you’re not living in the moment, you just have poor time management skills, you moron.
Even though, in many ways I rebel against and reject the idea of being an adult like any confused, young, naive, and terrified 23 year old with a blog is supposed to, I am a firm believer that anyone who makes themselves breakfast every morning is a better person than me. They have better time management skills than I do. They take better care of themselves than I do. They know how to live their lives in better and more efficient ways than I do. All because of some god damn whole wheat toast and egg whites that I just can’t seem to make the time, or have the discipline, for.
In closing, I want to say that I’m not sure if anyone in the entire world really knows how to be an adult. Maybe Malcolm Gladwell or some smart person like that does, but the rest of us are all equally fucked. (I’m sad to admit it took me a little while to think of one example of a smart person to use.) I’m sure the people in their suit and ties, gobbling down some french toast and turkey bacon in the morning, also feel like they don’t know what they’re doing. But, they do say you should fake it ’till you make it, and at least if you wake up and make that plate every morning then you look like you know what you’re doing, and you’re probably in a much better position than people like me. So, congratulations to all the breakfast-eater’s out there. I salute you, and I’m inspired by you.
Not A Real Person Yet 