Free Will

If you've ever had Munchies, you know that they're a mixture of pretzels, Chex, cheese crackers, bagel chips; they sometimes include Doritos or Cheetos, and often have a seasoned coating. They're a perfect blend of all the snack items you could want.

In theory.

I've got a reoccurring problem with the makeup of Munchies. There always seems to be one item in the mix that's on the verge of extinction the moment you pop open the bag, (Currently, that item is Chex.) and that's the one thing I want most. Of course, it's never the one item that seems way more abundant than the others. (Pretzels. It's always, always pretzels--I mean, if I wanted this many pretzels, I'd buy a fucking bag of pretzels.)

I could just buy a box of Chex, but there's something about the magic of the mix--the combination of flavors, the mystery each handful--that makes it a welcome crap-shoot. It's like listening to the radio instead of a CD or an MP3 when you're on a road trip: you may hear a song you didn't know you wanted to hear. I'm okay with imbalance in my snack food bag's ecosystem, so long as I get a taste of something I didn't know I was hungry for.

But usually the same thing happens: I realize what it is I really want after I've opened the bag, and there's not enough of it. This same thing happens when I go to restaurants. Usually I regret getting what I got because the person or people I'm with get something that looks, smells, or (in the case where I get to sample the other dish) tastes better than my order. Sometimes I wonder if I'm in a perpetual state of wanting what I can't have. Or, more specifically, I want whatever it is I didn't choose. That doesn't seem like a very good way to go about living life. I'm pretty sure that's breaking one of the Ten Commandments.