This project has caused me to realize how ritualistic opening the refrigerator is for me. I always look forward to going home because I know it means comfort, safety, and most of all, food. So over time, I have conditioned myself to open the refrigerator almost immediately after I get home everyday despite whether or not I'm actually hungry at that given time. Here is a documentation of my weird habit.
Every once in a while when I participate in my daily action, I pause. On my refrigerator door are numerous memories: the photo of me, my mother, and my brother, and the Seaworld magnet that my mom and I got when we visited there in San Diego. Putting my hunger on hold, I ponder: why can't life be that simple anymore?
For someone who peers into the refrigerator so frequently, one would be surprised to hear me say that I don't like the inside all that much. In fact, it's often a source of stress. Yes, there is a reward (food), but opening the fridge is a constant reminder that I need to clean it out.
We have too many pickles. But instead of going through the hassle of finding which jar has gone bad, and then finding that other containers in the fridge need to be thrown away, I shift my gaze to the leftover Thai and I'm happy.
I don't like to look at this photo too much; that's why it's at the bottom of the fridge. Things were different in this photo. Life had made a lot of sense, but everything seemed to turn upside down when my parents divorced. This picture was taken in second grade, a year before that. Although that time was easier, I would not want to go back to it. One thing I have learned from this project, and specifically from looking at these photos over time is that the unpleasant memories that I have are not meant to be forgotten or ignored. Although they are difficult to acknowledge, it's important for me to remember that they are still apart of me and they have shaped me into something that, honestly, I'm not all that ashamed of.