Around 2018, I left college for the final time (so far). I needed to cook a cup of rice to eat and stay alive. Fortunately, I had a job as an office manager, which gave me a cup-and-a-half of water. That's how much I figure someone needs to cook a cup of rice. I co-founded a band at the time but didn't need, personally, any of the water from what the band was cooking; in fact I took some of my own water and poured it into the band stew.
The band eventually grew to the point where it provided me with one, or maybe one-and-a-half, cups of water. I loved that chapter of my life so much that I meticulously prepared my rice such that even one cup would always cook my rice.
Then when covid started, I found myself with no water, and I was too stubborn to accept water from anyone or anywhere else, even free water. Unless I bought water on my credit card, I would just burn the rice. So I drank alcohol instead of cooking any. (That's coincidentally also what I did a few years before starting the timeline of this story.)
Luckily for me, I ran out of enthusiasm for that lifestyle before it depleted me totally. I got an opportunity on a total fluke that provided me one-and-a-half cups of water, imported from America! And somehow, I parlayed that opportunity into other ones, which gave me that one-and-a-half cups all through the year 2024.
But now, I was about to turn 30. One cup of rice doesn't always feed you (or your spouse/household) the same at 30 as it did at 23. No, two cups of rice is really what we'd need going forward.
So three cups of water, huh? Well, even after turning off the tap from my office job, I still found myself with about one-and-a-half on the regular. Again, if I tried to cook those two cups, I'd burn it. Need to cook less rice for now. If I tore down my whole life and tried to start fresh at a new job, I doubt I'd get all three cups of water, at least not for an uncertain and long time.
Thus began the existential quest to start my thirties: how do I get three cups of water, to cook two cups of rice?