The Boiling Point
I am inducting a newly-appointed term into The Olive Appendix, that being “The Boiling Point”.
I’m not referring to the point at which your mother drives you criminally insane when discussing the minutiae of how she wishes her towels to be folded, but instead I propose that this term be used in reference to a crucial point in our journey towards eventual development into full-fledged human beans*.
*See Olive Appendix for usage
A photo posted by Mia Lardiere (@theoliveeye) on
See, when water begins in a tea kettle it is placid, usually tepid, with minor traces of bacteria. A spark ignites beneath the pot and over a short course of time it simmers, eventually reaching a hard and vigorous boil. The bubbles violently collide like bumper cars at the liquid’s surface before disappearing in an instant, only for new ones to arise.
This is The Boiling Point, where every component of the water is ever-present to the point of exaggeration.
In that moment, the individual elements are raging at a climax in confidence that they do in fact belong to one singular body. It isn’t until the water is poured that they lie silently together, passively as a final product.
I've found that our tenure as twenty-nothings reaches a culmination during which we are a rumbling collective of the variations on our idealized selves, seeking to actualize our likes, interests, and aspirations all at once under the rule of Instasociety. We project them onto social media, wear them in loud statement pieces, or try to make sense of them on a silly blog.
This is our Boiling Point.
All of the parts are excitedly arising to the surface, and will eventually reduce to a gentle simmer where they can all coexist in one simple body — a cup of herbal tea steeped to perfection.