The Stuff of Dreams

Try Mostly Everything

"Can a person be hungry and not know what he wants to eat?" Po asked his teacher. Tai-Lung's eyebrow rose, but he kept his eyes on his paper. 

"Panda, if you ate my dinner, I'll tell your sister that-"

"It's not that," Po interrupted. "I mean, can you feel a desire that you don't know how to satisfy or fill?"

"Of course," Crane answered, "It happens all the time. You don't know what you want in a man or woman until you date them, get your heart broken, and then realize that it was you that was the problem and that you need to fix yourself before you can actually truly love someone without fear."

"Uhh... are you okay, Crane?" Po asked, raising his eyebrow. 

"I'm kidding. Sorry. Kinda dark with my humor."

"Kinda?" Tai-Lung muttered. 

"Anyway, it's like an identity crisis. You know you have a desire to be yourself, but you don't know who that is. So you try out multiple things and learn what you like or dislike," Crane said.

"But what if I don't want to try everything? What if I just want to settle for one?" Po asked. Crane shrugged. 

"Simple. You smell the food."

"I'm being metaphorical, Mr. Tai-Lung," Po sighed. 

"Me too," Tai-Lung replied. The panda tilted his head. "There's experience and then there's observation. Some things you need to experience within and some you have to observe at. But let's get to the real question: why do you want to go on a date with Mrs. Fang?"

"I didn't... how did you know that?" Po exclaimed. A small smile creased the teacher's face. 

"Lucky guess," Tai-Lung smirked. Po grumbled under his breath as the other classmates filed in and class began. "Today, we're going to talk about the most dangerous problem to writers in the world: Writer's block. In reality, there are several ways to get around it. One is just to describe the scenery for a bit and then find some kind of story. The idea is to just keep writing. Something will happen or start to happen. Then you'll find a new path. What about when you're in the middle of a book?" Tai-Lung straightened his back and stood in front of his desk. "There are two options. One: retrace your steps. Often, the problem is not at the spot, but one step back from that spot. Two: do something else, come back and read it. It's cliché because it works. Three: do it anyway. I've noticed that there are some scenes that I don't want to do either because I'm afraid or ignorant. But your audience is probably the same way. So write it anyway. Start with what you already know and then figure out the rest later. The important thing is to keep moving forward. Four, give yourself a deadline. Deadlines give you concentration and help you realize what is important and what isn't. Okay, now we're going to do an exercise." 

After the class, the usual three stayed behind and talked. Of course, the subject was Po's crush. "She's not my crush," Po objected. 

"That's part of the problem," Tai-Lung mumbled under his breath. Po briefly glared but sighed. "But the woman has a point. Why do you want to date her?"

"I don't even know if that's what I want!" Po exclaimed. Crane and Tai-Lung looked at each other. "I mean, I really just asked her the question because... who else would know but the person of my dreams?"

"This dream is starting to become both stupid and interesting at the same time," the snow leopard muttered. "It goes back to my previous question: What does the tiger in your dream mean?" Tai-Lung asked. Po only shrugged. The snow leopard looked at his watch as his stomach growled. "Well, that's something that you'll have to figure out by yourself, Po. If you get a good story out of it, all the better."

"Wait, is that why you guys are so invested in this? Because you're nosy?"

"No... No?" Crane grinned awkwardly.

Tai-Lung rolled his eyes. "Don't look too much into it, Po. Your life will help you find the experiences and observations that you wouldn't get from other places. Look at your co-workers. They'll be interesting to study. Trust me." 

"I guess," Po sighed, standing up. "Oh! Here's my sister's food for you."

"Thank you," Tai-Lung formally said, taking the bag of food. 

"I have to say, Mr. Tai-Lung, I've never seen my sister cook for someone else."

"Why?"

"Well, she's always been very self-conscious about other people tasting her food."

"Hehe, you two are siblings," Crane chuckled as he left the room. Po grumbled under his breath. 

"He's right," Tai-Lung said, "Even now when I edit your stories, you're still fragile to criticism. Get over it. You have to be eager to learn, not eager to avoid pain." 

"Thanks?" Po replied. Was Tai-Lung complimenting him or insulting him. The stoic cat's demeanor was a gamble to decipher sometimes. "But what about defending your art?"

"Po, you don't even know what your art is yet," Tai-Lung said flatly, "Before you can even say you have a style, you have to know if your style looks a lot like yours truly." He smiled with a small prideful flare as his hand lightly touched his own chest. "But seriously, you have to be open to criticism."

"But how do I know that I'm not writing someone else's story?" Po asked. 

"Don't worry, you'll know," Tai-Lung said as he walked out of the classroom. 

Po finally made his way back to his house where Mei was waiting for him. The room wasn't filled with the scent of any sizzling vegetable, fruit, or tofu. Mei sat sadly at the kitchen island. "Mei, what's wrong?" 

"I... I got fired from my job."

"What?!" 

"They don't have any more use for a food journalist. I guess my recipes aren't good enough," Mei sighed. 

"Come on, sis. That can't be true. The newspaper has been wanting your cooking tips and recipes for ages. Why did they change now? When did this happen?"

"A few moments ago. They were talking about doing some cuts to save some money, but... I guess I didn't expect it to be me," Mei sighed. "I really liked that job. It combined two things I was good at–cooking and writing." 

"Why don't you just write a good cookbook? I'm sure that-"

"I don't want to write a cookbook. I like the news side of it because it was different and I could try new stuff. Writing a cookbook is just writing what I know, and that's no fun. Besides, I like working at home and I'm not as committed to writing as you are."

"But you're good at it," Po objected. 

"I know, but I don't really like writing books. And with marketing, author signings. It's just not for me," Mei sighed, "I understand why they fired me, though. A newspaper doesn't really need a cook reviewer and critic. I just don't know where I'm gonna find a job now, and if I can't help you pay the rent-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Po smiled, lifting her head up. "We'll get through this. If we need to downsize, we'll do that, okay? We'll get through this." Mei gave a short nod, but she could see right through Po's eyes. Both of them didn't know what would happen or what to do. They could only hope for the best. 

To Be Continued...