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VIII. Cooking Mama

Nintendo DS

I can’t cook. My mom frequently reminds me of my
shortcomings as a young lady. But, I beg to argue that I can.

I grip the stylus in my fingers. The Nintendo DS balanced in
my other hand. Back and forth in rapid succession, my hand
becomes a blur. Chopping vegetables. Slicing. Or even dicing.
I could suddenly distinguish between the intricacies of
different motions. The precision behind cooking. The artistry
of it. Whether it was sautéing or boiling or broiling or frying, I
was a chef. Satisfactory was not good enough. It had to be
cooked to perfection.

Sandwiches and pasta were no longer my specialties. The
delicacies were infinite. Pizza. Omelet. Pork Cutlet. Beef
Curry. Fried Octopus Dumplings. Shrimp Tempura. Soba.
Udon.

With the mastery of these recipes, it only seemed rational to
me that my skills should transcend this digital world. But they
didn’t. Forever a beautiful illusion of culinary expertise.

IX. Gears of War 3

Xbox 360

I squeeze the controller. My palms sweating. I grit my teeth
together. Narrowing my eyes at the television. Guns blazing.
Adrenaline.

At home, I become engrossed in the narrative. Sera’s
salvation. Liberating humanity from the Locust scourge. My

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