Do you ever feel like you had a specific purpose in life, but then you were called to do something different? And it doesn’t feel right? Recently I was visiting my cousin, Ball, who’s been upcycled as a trendy, country-chic soap dispenser. He never knew he was going to become a trendy, country-chic soap dispenser, but he said he feels like his life is full. And just this weekend, when I was trying to take a relaxing bubble bath in the sink, I struck up a conversation with my old cabinet neighbor, Ball, who had been repurposed into a soy candle holder. As he burnt, I asked him if ever missed the pickling business. He said no, because he always dreamed of becoming an arsonist. All of these friends around me who have left the pickling biz are happy with their lives. But why don’t I feel the same?
My upbringing is a drastic straying from my life in L.A. now. Those who know me know I’m a country boy at heart. I was looking at my life with a jar half full. I miss the fresh air, the rooster crowing in the morning, Meemaw pouring a shot of moonshine in me, her last resort to just get through the day…I loved it. The only season I had to worry about, was pickling season. That was back when I had one, singular purpose. I wasn’t a jack of all trades and a master of none. I was a master of one. Pickling. And I certainly enjoyed spending my time with the vegetables I grew up with, like cucumbers and peppers and onions. They slapped a “strawberry jam” tag on me, and I didn’t even mind being labeled like that. My life was set in stone. I wasn’t a jar running around with my lid cut off, like how I feel now.
And then everything changed. White women began using me for…all sorts of things. Overnight oats, that lard-ass-looking shit. Once that blew up, things just progressed from there. Layered salads. Yogurt parfaits. Why couldn’t they just use a bowl? They were working me 24/7. When I tell you I rarely if ever got a chance to just relax in my cupboard. If I wasn’t containing something, I was being washed with some Method dish soap. And the vicious dishwasher cycle repeated. If that wasn’t enough, I was then forced in front of the camera. Most of my credits include cameos in TikTok and Instagram recipe videos. Now, while I always had dreams of film, I always pictured myself behind the camera, you know? But it seemed like my fate had already been decided for me, and I guess I couldn’t blame them, I do have that squeaky clean “look.”
This new life isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, this life of celebrity. Believe me, I love getting a paycheck, being booked and busy, and supporting my family and my two kids, Mason Jr. and Jar Jar. But these weddings I have to go to now, it’s just not sustainable. And I earn every dollar that’s put in my jar, so much you would think I’m my cousin, Tip, at the Coldstone Creamery. I’m working the room, going table to table, being put on display. Heck, I’m the center of attention at these barn weddings as people just gawk at me going “Oooo, that’s nice.” And they’re just not giving me the eyes at my smooth exterior, I get all dressed up and stuffed up for them. They’re putting pictures inside me and they’re dressing me up in glitter (which the ol’ Ball and chain has had to rinse me down for hours just to get the sparkles off of me!) And the worst of all, they’re putting candles inside me, and it’s making me sweat! I’m not like my extreme friends I went to high school with that got into the glass blowing business. But, that’s all in a day of work unfortunately.
I won’t lie though, there are some perks of being a famous mason jar. More than ever, I’m getting photos taken of me and I do get to feel like a model. I’ve even been getting opportunities to show up in catalogs like Crate & Barrel, where I can join the other assortment of random glass things that can really spruce up a kitchen. It’s been really cool to get introduced to new kinds of spices that people are putting inside me, like saffron. I didn’t know until 2 weeks ago what that was, but it smells delicious! The best part? I’m starting to be recognized from Pinterest inspo boards, which make me feel good. I just wish I had some arms to give out a few autographs.
Despite all of this, I just want to go back to my old life. I just want to be a jar that you can put some beans in. I want to collect dust in the back of your cabinet. And better yet, I want to be used for my original purpose, to be used to drink moonshine out of like you’re a cowboy who just won a duel. Please bring me back to my old life before I blow my lid!