Archive for April 2008

Thirty-Fifth Post

I feel like my posts have been very Doogie Howser-esque, lately. Illustration:


So…the only video I could find was this play on Doogie’s journal entries from How I Met Your Mother (here is his full diary, though — super-great), but you get the idea (maybe?): I’ve been adding these concluding statements to the ends of my entries, as though the resolutions of my inner-conflicts have already been reached — and with ease, in general.

It’s silly! I mean, look at the last (or near-last) sentences from my previous four [full] entries:

  • I’d like to think that I’m embracing the complexity of a grayer attitude towards food.
  • So…I’m happy with change right now, and I’m working to accept some good.
  • Basically, a good love would really grant me some peace of mind, I think.
  • When it came down to it though, I was quite happy with that give-and-take.

Yikes, dude…gimme a break! I’m gonna have to cut down on that bidness, because — 4 rlz — I very infrequently know what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is going on. I think I was probably just attempting to express contentment in my various situations, but it comes off as way too sitcom-endy to me. In reality, no situation ever meets its conclusion…it simply mutates into something else. Which might be some kind of life lesson, but I ain’t saying as much!

Anyway…do you know that there are songs constantly running through my head? There is no silence in there…I wonder if it’s the same deal with everyone else. Here’s the current one:


All That Jizz by Ta’quil (AKA Killer Mike), a character on the super-awesome show, Frisky Dingo. It’s nasty and I love it.

Thirty-Fourth Post

Thoughts on food.

I often have some difficulty explaining to people the dietary philosophy to which I subscribe. Do I think it’s the most rational one that I’ve heard? A-derr, which is why I practice it. And here’s how it started:

A little more than two years ago, I was on a bus ride to New York with my friend “Paz” (yes, it’s his choice to attempt anonymity on the internets), and we were talking about his room mate, Eric, and the reasons why Eric himself had switched to veganism. At the time, I was one of the many folks out there who trashed vegetarianism as being totally silly, and veganism as even worse. My reasons, of course, stemmed partly from the rationale of vegans I knew, and partly from a lack of personal understanding.

The narrative I’d consistently heard had been about cruelty to animals…the sanctity of all life, the sentience of all creatures, blah blah blah. Clearly, that was a story I wasn’t buying. I don’t believe that much of anything is sacrosanct, and animals are swell, but there is no evidence that anything that has ever existed in the universe, let alone the things we eat, has a mental or emotional capacity anywhere near resembling that of humanity. I’ve of course always preferred that animals be put to death in a humane way, but there is nothing in my book that is inherrently wrong about their deaths.

And the ALF? Gimme a break.

Anyway, I had the privilege of being enlightened on this cross-border trip. Paz elaborated to me some of the many environmental factors that might lead an individual to choose a different diet, and had evidently led Eric to doing so. Issues of inefficient use of natural resources: nearly 50% of our water is consumed by the process of raising cattle and other livestock; issues of deficiencies in waste management: animal shit spills have killed millions of fish; issues of pathetic expense vs. yield ratios: every pound of steak is paid for with thirty-five pounds of eroded top soil; issues of land misuse: millions of acres of rain forest have simply been cleared out to create grazing land. THE LIST GOES ON. And on. And on.

I like to think that I’m the type of person who, when proven incorrect or ignorant on a topic, will change his ways for the better…so about a week later, I went ahead and declared my veganism (because, really, if you’re buying anything from the meat and dairy industry, you’re supporting all of it — sorry vegetarians). This proved, living in a major city, to be remarkably easy.

In the months that followed, however, my philosophy grew a bit more nuanced. You’ll have to keep in mind, again, that I have no problem with the notion of eating meat — the focus of my conversion was not the “liberation of animals,” but rather the disenabling of environmental ineptitude. So, naturally, when room mates of mine started rescuing various non-vegan foods from the local Trader Joe’s, I had no problem partaking — after all, allowing an already inefficient system to go to greater waste is particularly bad. And this, I think, turned me into what some people call a freegan: a person who eats vegan if they’re paying for it, but doesn’t worry otherwise (which is just one of the many associated definitions with the term).

This has been a philosophy that has suited me very well. The majority of people that I’ve met who choose to label themselves as vegan have been…well, assholes. I imagine that many people would simply assume that they’re assholes because they’re vegan — meaning, they’ve become picky and unpleasant people to be around because of their eating habits — but actually, I think it’s quite the reverse: veganism, as an extremist philosophy, naturally attracts assholes, who tend to like being extreme for no other reason than to provoke the reactions of others. So it’s nice not to be lumped in with those people, and instead to have a label — if I so choose to invoke it — that lends itself to more ambiguous interpretations.

The Oracle says, everything in moderation (nothing to excess). I like this…I strive for this. I’d like to think that I’m embracing the complexity of a grayer attitude towards food.

Thirty-Third Post

I’ve probably written about this before, but I’ll mention it again even if I have, as it isn’t any less true now than it ever has been: so far as I can tell, my life and person are governed by change. I know, I know — it’s really not that grand a revelation…after all, aren’t most lives, regardless of what one admits, dictated by exactly the same state? But I’ve adopted this descriptor for simplicity’s sake, and for lack of any other consistently applicable term. Heh, yeah…consistency is tough.

And here’s a little something to complement the sentiment:


This snippet, from the song, The Warriors’ Hearts by The Blow, feels like change to me. Change…and learning, as well? You definitely gotta hope the two come in tandem.

What I’ve learned is that there is no security in change. They say that “change is good,” but that sure as shit is a relative statement! Change in character brings me identity crises semi-annually; change in affections weakens the resolve of my already fickle heart; change in address has left me without a “home” — ooh, which reminds me of an ancient and beautiful poem by Li Bai, written while he was in exile:

In front of my bed, bright moonlight shines,
I mistakingly think it’s frost on the ground.
I lift my head up at the bright moonlight,
I lower my head and think of my old home.

Anyway…the return on change is often short. However, for those that are accustomed, there is derived from it a positively useful trait: the ability to navigate. Because, really, it’s a rotten, hellish, angry bitch of a tsunami-saturated demonstorm, completely indifferent to your little dinghy. Navigation, then, is a…handy skill — it helps you get through the worst of it.

Is it any wonder that my greatest of ambitions involve the simplest of things? I want a house, a solid relationship, and a relatively happy family. That’s it — and anything else is gravy.

Funny, though…this is about to become an optimistic post. As I’ve mentioned before (in my twenty-first post, at the very least), I’m in a transitional period. After the weariness that I’ve experienced as exclusively associated with such things, it’s not surprising that the resultant myopia has caused me some difficulty in seeing that, actually, I am being gifted with some excessively good changes these days.

In my little world (in which I live as a little boy) these things are somewhat beyond belief: I will be done with my bachelor’s — which I don’t like to admit has been a long, esteem-shattering road — in a year; I’ve just been offered a paid, full-time research assistant position on the Veterans Affairs study for which I’ve been volunteering; and I’m about to leave a job for which I no longer have any passion. Perhaps these appear to be small things…but I promise that they are not.

So…I’m happy with change right now, and I’m working to accept some good.

Thirty-Second Post

Hmm. Relationships.

As a human being, it is an unsurprising fact of life that romantic couplings (and…sometimes triplings or more?) — whether casual or fully committed — are constantly, unrelentingly on my mind. It’s pretty much a given that my myelin could serve as a sexual lubricant, beyond its capacity as a neurological one, but I SWEAR that those axons are connected to thoughts of relationships!

Anyway — fantastically brilliant physiological comparisons aside — this is a difficult thing for me…because I don’t seem to navigate my way into lasting relationships, basically ever. But of course I have needs like any other person, so it’s like I’ve become an…I dunno, sex-vulture? I survey the land, looking for tasty sex morsels. WOW that sounds terrible…but maybe in a hilarious way…just maybe? I think an illustration is in order:


The wild North American Christian scavenges for carrion.

So: lucky in sex, but unlucky in love, would be the way to put it, I think — at least as far as your average dude goes — which naturally makes me more desirous of the latter. And that’s the direction I want to steer this conversation towards…

My friends might give a big ol’ “yeah right” to this one, but the fact is that I reeeeally would like a stable, long-term relationship. My problem has always been that I’ve sought out the exact WRONG people to fulfill their end of the bargain in such a deal, which has certainly led me to question whether I truly do want or am ready for such a commitment.

But I’ve lately come to a realization that has sufficed, for myself, as proof of my intentions. Let me preface this epiphany first by reiterating how very busy I’ve been these days…I’ve really only got so much brainpower to dedicate to the various thoughts running through my head. So, I imagine that many people know what it’s like to be in an on-again, off-again relationship, and I am certainly the king of this form of dating within my social circles. As the result of a recent on, I came to this conclusion: if I can allow myself to believe that I’m in a relationship — whether or not it’s a realistic belief — it really helps to cut down on how sex/relationship-obsessed I’m prone to let myself become, and thus helps me to better focus on the most important future-enabling aspects of my life.

Yes, this is a somewhat sad realization! Luckily, I’m not at the point where I’m completely fabricating relationships to content myself…yet. A further observation that I’ve made on this perspective is that there is a part of me that simply wants to be in a relationship so that I don’t have to worry about being in relationship. Equations: no relationship = anxiety; relationship = less anxiety (in most halfway-decent scenarios, at least).

Basically, a good love would really grant me some peace of mind, I think. Maybe this isn’t some grand discovery after all…