I’ve always had an obsessive personality. When I was in high school, there probably is no surprise to find out I was obsessed with Kanye West and playing the Sims. I got so obsessed with the Sims that I played it with story lines and completed all fields of the storybook function. I got so obsessed with Kanye West I ended up tattooing my favorite doodle of his on my arm. There was also a point in my life where I discovered pho and decided it was the only thing I should eat for at least a week. Around the same time, I decided slam poetry was my thing and I did nothing for a few months but write about three and half poems and YouTube a bunch of performances. Then it was a few other things — Italian cold cuts, Grey’s Anatomy, learning Eastern European languages, coding in Python, smoking clove cigarettes, etc. Which brings us to today, where I am obsessed with looking at pictures of North West, searching for perfect eggs, broth, and JT’s Manukan.
But if there is one thing in my life that I have always been obsessed with, it’s salt. I have eaten enough salt in my life that I have a small fund dedicated to my care in the event of possible renal failure when I age. In high school, I would eat the salt given out for science experiments and I’d have to pretend that I dropped all mine to get more for actual experimentation use. Now, at any point, I have at least four varieties of salt around me — pink salt, regular palengke-grade rock salt, iodized, sea salt chunks and thanks to a recent trip to Japan and a few pasalubongs from kind friends, I have a collection of about 12 different types that go from white to pink to green and even black.