"‘I think that when people are born, they’re given this manual. On how to live life. And once you learn how to read, you’re supposed to use it and look at tips from other people so you know what to do with your own life. But when I learned how to read, the first thing I read was the Chinese take-out menu, and even then the only words I really knew were ‘rice.’ That’s what happens when you grow up surrounded by little cartons and wooden chopsticks, I guess, you try reading ‘kung pao’ and start wondering if what they taught you in school was really reading. But I digress. My life’s a mess, you know? I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know what to do. Fuck, I don’t even know what to want anymore. I need the chapter in that manual about your future. And planning it. And figuring out what you like. And cultivating it. I don’t know any of that. How do I figure that out? I can google how to pay a mortgage or how to write a check. College can teach me how to do high level math that I won’t ever need again unless I want to impress some people. But figuring out which direction to steer my life in? How to control my entire existence? I bet that manual’s got it. But, of course, I don’t have it. So I’ve no idea what to do. You look like you’ve got it under control, though. Your life, I mean. All put together and headed in the general direction, veering off course only so the front right tire borders on the edge of the road, hardly touching the dirt. Very put together, under control, a sense of who you are and who you’re going to become. You’ve got the manual, huh?’
‘You think I have my life under control? Well, damn. That’s got to be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.’"
