Throwing spaghetti at the wall
(but make it Asian—I threw instant phở) An essay on the phrase
Throwing spaghetti at the wall
(but make it Asian—I threw instant phở)
One of the best homework assignments that I was given in grade school was to memorize a list of 20 idioms and their definitions. Phrases like “kick the bucket,” “piece of cake,” and “make a mountain out of a molehill” were literally foreign to me.
I spent the first two months of my life in the US city I was born in and then went to live with my maternal grandma and her parents in Taiwan for the next two years while my parents settled in the US. I am obviously fluent in English but it’s not my first language. Idioms, slang, and any general English were not learned through my parents, but through books, TV shows, school, a dictionary, and a speech therapist. In middle school, I took home-ec classes for my electives, with one of them being cooking. And this is where I had lasagna for the first time (it is so much work—like why do you want to cook everything first and then cook it again? WHY).
When I came across the phrase “throwing spaghetti at the wall,” I was extremely confused. Do people actually take hot pasta and throw it? Is that how people tell it’s done? Why not just eat a strand and not waste food/make a mess?? (Tangent: it has a history of checking for pasta doneness but the stickiness of it does not actually indicate how well cooked it is.) Also, in case you didn’t know, the phrase of “throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks” means to try or brainstorm many different things (like solutions to a problem) and see what works out. Why can’t people just say brainstorm?
I am happy to report that, as of today, I have now thrown noodles at my cabinet door. The Grocery Outlet (actual name, not a random store) by me was out of spaghetti but had plenty of instant noodle options, which is honestly par for the neighborhood. I threw rice noodles at the door for photos. I had what I imagine is the same feeling as throwing paint balls at a wall: surprise (it sticks! to everything, including your finger!) and satisfaction (landing it). I’ll be honest, I don’t think noodles sticking to a wall is really that photogenic.
Rice noodles stuck to a cabinet door are not that photogenic.
The US political news of the last two weeks has been a lot of spaghetti throwing. It’s part of the strategy: throw lots of overwhelm, expect people get frozen in that overwhelm, and then continue on to fuck with everyone with whatever spaghetti has stayed stuck. I know this, you probably know this, it all makes sense, but knowing does not get you out of the shocked state (yet another phrase here: “knowing is half the battle”). I think it is valid to be like, yes, everything is terrible. And sit with that.
I’ve had to do a lot of spaghetti throwing myself, because I’ve been finding it hard and trivial to be writing and working but I have to make money to survive. I brainstormed for writing ideas for 45 minutes and highlighted the good ones. It felt like throwing spaghetti, which led me to wonder what it would be like and could that be a photo?, and now here I am, writing about it. The lesson here: anything can be turned into an essay.
I do recommend throwing noodles at your wall, if you want to get in touch with your inner kid and release some tension. The figurative version of brain dumping may also be helpful. Know that you're not alone in the overwhelm.
Originally sent to paid subscribers, I've unlocked a letter I wrote in 2023 to my brain. It was one of my first attempts at infusing humor into every part of the writing and also seems appropriate for anytime your brain craps out on you. You will need to log in to read it.
Jenn Chen
etc.
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