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It’s snowing outside. A lot. It’s dumping, actually.

Of all the places in the world, it only dumps like this in Bozeman, Montana. To walk through it is to walk through a world of ethereal, whirling whiteness. And, like that scene in Babel, you see noise all around you, but you hear nothing– not even the crunch of your own boots in the snow. It’s as though you step outside, and sound ceases to exist. Fffpt. Gone. …

Then, you step back inside, and a grinding barrage of sound overwhelms you!– the harsh sound of creaking doors, the grating of squeaking boots, booming footsteps, vociferous, rustling coats.

It’s not so, outside.

Outside, you scream, and the sound is sucked away into the dense, whirling whiteness, as though you had no voice of your own.

Across the way is that girl from class, her hair glistening, patchwork of gold and white. She smiles. She calls out, lips and eyes forming words. You hear nothing, but hear it perfectly. Crystal clear.

—

If I say the right words, you’ll forget what they mean. You’ll hear them through the snow, from the form of my lips, and glimmer in my eyes. The right words have no sound, only form, and meaning long forgotten. It’s as though we communicate, but we’ve lost sight of why, of how. “How’s the weather?” No, that’s not the question. “How are you?” Better, or worse. “…” Closer. Too much, but not enough.

But in the snow, across the way, then we communicate. It’s the form of the words that carry their meaning. Not their sounds.

Boy: “Place the turkey in a pre-heated oven.”
Girl: “I don’t know what you mean.”
Boy: “Put the form in a self-addressed, stamped envelope.”
Girl: “I don’t understand.”
Boy: “(   ) (     ) (  ) (   ) (   ).”
Girl: “Mm. And me, you.”

…

boycott my latest personal crisis
boycott starbucks for social justice
boycott war for peace
boycott love for hate
boycott for boyscouts
boycott getting up in the morning.

boycott snow
boycott cold

boycott being ridiculous and unfeeling
boycott truth for art
boycott jesus christ
boycott jesus christ for forgetting us
boycott Allah for boycotting us

boycott humility for grace
boycott wholeness for brokenness
boycott religious motifs

boycott thinking for feeling
boycott feeling for knowing
boycott knowing for ignorance

boycott love for truth
boycott truth for happiness
boycott happiness for screaming emo emotion

boycott sensitivity for objectivity
boycott experience for innocence
boycott alcohol for sobriety

boycott then for now

boycott exceptional-ism for mediocrity

boycott reality for a fantasy
boycott reality for a modicum of happiness
boycott happiness for screaming emo emotion

boycott honesty for affected emotion
boycott sincerity for affected humanity

There’s that one cliché first-date get-to-know-ya whatever question that’s like “if you were an animal, what animal would you be?” Yeah, it’s a stupid question. I mean, let’s be honest. Who cares. You can’t be an animal, unless you’re a Hindu, and even if I wanted the be a cow, the point is that you don’t get to choose. Unless there’s a Sanskrit “previous-life to next-life-form” equivalence chart, in which case I could try to tailor my actions in this life to ensure me birth as a platypus in the next. It’s got to be a delicate balance, though. I mean, wouldn’t it suck if you spent your whole life getting the precise karma coefficient required to come back as an eagle, and, with your dying breath, you killed an ant, and came back as the next animal down, which could be a rhinoceros, for all you know? I mean, that’d be rough. That’d be a pretty big risk. Maybe you’d have to find TWO animals next to each other, in case you accidentally did something good or bad at the last minute.

Maybe I should start an RSS feed for my karma score. I mean, knowing my credit score is interesting, but my karma score… that’d be valuable information! I might drive a little more carefully, for example, if I knew my reincarnation coefficient was at “sewer rat” or, worse still, “ogre”.

Tangent.

The point is that I now have a stupid answer to that stupid question. I mean, Oh, if I could have all those first dates back! Things could be so different!

…

But really, it’s quite obvious. I’d be a goldfish. Duh. I mean, I’m half-way there already, really. Think about it. My skin is scaly and gold… and I love water!

Er. No. Actually, what I was saying is that, mostly, I have the attention span of a goldfish. They have, what is it? A seven second short-term memory? I mean, my memory’s fine, it’s just remembering what I was doing seven seconds ago that gets a bit troubling. But really, I can’t believe she’d do that. That was so out of character for her.

Sorry. That was shameless.

Similarly, though, goldfish are exceptional fish (ah, yes! I’m an exceptional fish!) for their uncanny ability to grow to fill any space. In a small bowl, say, a goldfish might not grow (despite any amount of food) to be any more than 4 or 5cm. In a pond, however, a goldfish might grow to be 25 or 30cm! This is truly amazing!

A line that touches but does not cross a curve.

Similarly amazing is my ability to fill any amount of open space with (STUFF!!). I noted this similarity walking into the long room (not MY room, mind you) in the quad this morning, at some ungodly hour. At some point last night, apparently my own, appropriated, corner just wasn’t big enough for me, and I began to spread on to my third table. There are four tables in the room. I mean, we’re talking big tables, here. And, somehow, my stuff is just everywhere! Books, paper, more papers, pens, stationary, folders… it’s a mess. But it’s only because there’s so much space! With only a 2×2′ desk that I could call my own, my mess would be quite neat and tidy. I just … expand to fill any space.

Rather like a gold-fish.

Also, like a goldfish, I’m seriously reconsidering my grad-school thoughts. The limit of my interest in math, as “X” approaches a grad-school-satisfactory-amount, is … zero, to say nothing of my ABILITY (which, as the course numbers go toward infinity, also approaches zero).

Now, thinking, maybe I should just go buy a goldfish. Oh, the conversations we could have. And are the Dodgers still playing in Brooklyn? I mean, is it even baseball season?

Yo.

It’s absolutely freezing in my room. Mostly because the wind is blowing like 70mph outside. No joke. Thank goodness I have a microwaved bean-bag full of warm beans (or is it rice?) draped over my feet. Otherwise, forget it. I’d be in bed. Guaranteed.

So. Break is winding down. A full month. It went too quickly. No, that’s not the issue. The issue is that I read too slowly. My accomplished reading list is shamefully small. Partially because I have ADD and I don’t have my corner (heh– oh, my corner!), but mostly because I’m the world’s slowest reader. We’ve been over this. It still drives me nuts, though.

At least I’ve managed to watch a few films over break– get kinda back into the grove of things, as it were. I haven’t seen anything especially great, although I rather enjoyed A Clockwork Orange— or, I rather enjoy it now– not so much while I was watching it for the first time. Borat made me laugh until my stomach ached, but I always felt torn between clutching my aching gut and covering my eyes– it was that really sort of awkward, uncomfortable humor. Thank You For Smoking, on the other hand, was genuinely enjoyed all around.

Man, that was a boring paragraph.

So. Last semester sucked, at least where “the college experience” is concerned. Yeah, I nabbed some stellar grades (heh, modestly, modesty), but, in retrospect, I didn’t do much else. Whereas the college experience is only half about the grades (or so I’m told), I suppose I only half lived last semester.

And so comes my single resolution for the new year: have more fun! God, I can be such a bore. I need to get out more. Do more things. Bozeman is amazing. There’s a number of good reasons to go to school at MSU. The History department, I’m sad to say, isn’t one of them. Being presently broke (hey, but I enjoyed! my month off!), it’s unlikely I’ll ski much this spring (which is what I really should do!), but I’ll be damned if I don’t finally break in my ice axe and crampons. (Is axe spelled without an e?). And… I need to do more intellectual things. Not academic things– there’s a distinct difference, mind you, but intellectual things. I don’t think I had an original idea all fall. And I think I can do better than that.

I’m picking up Recycling Club for the spring, which I’m actually pretty nervous about. Basically, once upon a time, recycling club was big and active on campus. Then people graduated, time passed, and more people graduated, and now there are two members– myself and a girl named Kelly. After our abysmal track-record this fall, I don’t even know if we’re going to be allowed to continue our white-paper recycling stuff this spring. But, at the very least, we can still be a rockin’ advocacy group. But that requires membership. And membership requires leadership. Which isn’t necessarily something I really feel ready for. But … fortune doesn’t wait for something or another. There’s a really good aphorism for this situation, but it eludes me.

Anyhow. I get to call up the Facility Services manager tomorrow and talk a little about recycling, why it didn’t happen this fall, the wrath of god, and why I think it’s going to happen in a big way this spring.

‘Cuz it’s a beautiful green earth we have. It’d be a shame to destroy it, completely.

I can tell you why … people go insane … I can tell you why … something something something

Apparently, iTunes like Audioslave. Apparently, I do too. Right now, anyway.

Well, this is rambling. At least it’s not proselytizing, eh? I think I do that too much. I need to listen more, and say less. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.

Well, I think I’m going to bed. Ta ta, brave new world. We’ll meet again, soon.

It’s hard to believe it’s that time again: time to wrap up the old year (2006 seems yet so new!) and welcome in the new. No! Do I have no choice? Can I stop it? Can I … keep writing 2006 on my checks?

I don’t know if this is the first time, but it seems like the year’s only begun. 2006 seems so new, still, still with a shine and a gleam. I guess, watching the JibJab 2006 Year In Review, a lot happened this year. It just … doesn’t seem like it.

I guess this feeling of newness comes from multiple fronts. The first is that, academically, the year didn’t start until a scant four months ago, in September, having taken the spring semester off. So yeah. I think I wrote my last year-in-review in Bangkok, while packing my bags for Bangalore. Now I write at home, in my room, in Cheyenne, WY. Worlds apart.

Well, how about it, then?

I wish I could say the year’s been good. But that would require a sense of closure I’m completely lacking. I’ll be drug into 2007, dragging, clawing… but not screaming. That would just be hyperbole. But I’m really not over for 2006 to be over. It just started to get good, really.

And, oddly, I’m filled with apprehension about 2007. If 2006 is just starting to get good, shouldn’t that bode well for 2007? Should I be filled with hope for the new year? Au contraire, there’s just an almost palpable sense of foreboding about the New Year. This year is lacking closure, finality. I don’t know why.

Well, let’s see. I started someplace in southern India–Kerala, I think–this time last year. I’d pull out my journal and check– see what my thoughts, feeling, resolutions, etc were, but I lost my journal: it disappeared while packing up my grandmother in Duluth in June. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Across January and February, I spent six weeks volunteering for Parikrma in Bangalore (now Bengaluru, since November). Though an entirely worthwhile organization, I came away from it feeling somewhat disenchanted. Six weeks was hardly enough time to settle down– not nearly enough time to actually accomplish something. So I feel I took away much more from Parikrma than I contributed, though they gave me such a warm send-off. And perhaps there’s a small sense of guilt because, alas, I’ve not kept up my contacts in India– the friends I met, the children (child) I worked with on a daily basis. I’m bad at correspondence, I guess.

No, it’s more than that. This year has been the first year completely under the moral policy of “I do what I want to do.” It’s a fine line– between being a jerk and being the nice guy, who does things for others, to make others happy, even if it means inconveniencing one’s self. That was me, for however many years. That’s what I was raised to be: kind, considerate. But then, one day, I realized that enough was enough. That nice guys finish last. That’s not where I’m going to finish. And from that moment, with one exception, I’ve done exactly (and only) what I’ve wanted to do– done nothing, save one, out of a sense of obligated. It’s been “f-ya’ll” to everyone not me. And yeah– I feel like a jerk. Like a prick, to be honest, if vulgar. But, to be again honest, I like it more than being “the nice guy.”

There’s guilt, of course, involved with seeing the opportunity to help someone else, to do something kind for someone else, to make someone else’s day (at the expense of my own), and then consciously choosing not to do it. Not even making excuses. It’s like “yeah, that’s what I should do. But that’s not what I’m going to do.” But, more often than not, the guilt has been offset by the satisfaction of doing what I wanted to do.

I’ve fallen so much. I used to be such a nice guy. Such a “good kid.” I lament the loss of the positive self-image, but I embrace the new self. I’m not what I was raised to be. I’m not what I’m supposed to be. But, oh, I’m what I want to be: uncompromisingly, unapologetically so.

So. Volunteer whatever: “check!”

Back in the ‘States. For a month (maybe more), I applied for jobs that were above my qualifications, or, if I was qualified, required more than a six month committment. “You’re quite qualified for the position,” I heard more than once, “but we’re looking to fill the position permanently. We appreciate your honesty.”

So I ended up delivering pizzas and fixing computer for five months. It was fine. Actually, it was absolutely … stultifying? It was utter stagnation, for six months. Six months without learning, without challenge, personal development, whatever. Just … a lot of work. Sixty hours a week, every week, for six months. In my journal, I filled in six pages between June and the end of summer. There were single daysin India that I filled six pages…

In June, I went up with my Dad to Duluth, MN, to cheer him as he ran Grandma’s Marathon, and to pack and move my aging grandmother from her house to Cheyenne. That’s where I lost my other journal– the one with all my thoughts, memories, reflection from India. Moving my Grandma was hard– hard on everyone: her and my Dad especially, I think. But she’s here now. I spent part of Christmas day with her; she’s happily settled in her new environment. In fact, she has no idea how long she’s been here. Years, she thinks. The dimensia settles in, wreaks its havoc.

At the end of August, I returned to Bozeman. It was obvious, in no shortage of ways, that a year had passed, without me. I was placed in Quad D, rather than E. I’ve grown to love D over the semester, but it’s different. Instead of people to sit around and talk about the solution to the latest political problem with, I have a bunch of fun people to play Beirut with on a Friday night. And, honestly, this semester I probably needed more Beirut than intellectual stimulation.

I took twenty credit hours, mostly history, mostly 400 level, and, for the first time since 8th grade, got a four-point. And yeah–modesty it’s a virtue. But all the virtues in the world never brought anyone happiness. Of that I’m convinced. So I’ll say it: I’m proud of it. I worked hard, and worked well. I turned in some good work this semester, and I’m firmly set on a path for the next four semesters, and next four years. Economics is a great fit. I have a sense of direction and purpose. And man, that’s cool. It’s like a warm blanket at night, when I go to sleep– something I’ve never had before.

Jenny was married in May. It was a beautiful outdoor wedding. Her husband, Tory, is fun, smart and open-minded. They’re happy together.

I went backpacking in the Winds in August with my Dad and Sagar for a week. It was easily the highlight of the summer. Easily enough, too: it was the only summer I didn’t work.

I’m still bad at the guitar.

And so now I’ll finish the year, quietly and simply. Today I’ve read (still working on finishing the books that were assigned in High School) and written a little. I had dinner with my parents tonight, and then played a game of Scrabble with them, after doing the dishes.

If someone were to ask me tonight “how’s life?” I could only respond that it’s a roller coaster. But I enjoy the ride. Most days.

Well, 2007, here we come. In Macbeth’s words: “Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back!“

President Bush (love the man! …) has declared Tuesday (2-Jan-07) as a national day of mourning for the loss of a former international leader.

President Bush actually had former President Gerald L. Ford in mind, but I’m thinking about someone else. Though Ford’s death is sad, as is any death, is it really a cause for national mourning, much less a federal holiday? Ford was 93 years old, and died of natural causes. It’s not like it’s a shock to anyone that he died. He was old. That’s what old people do. He wasn’t assassinated. He wasn’t martyred. He died quietly, in the company of family. And, well, why the federal holiday? Ford was only president for all of two years (’74-’76), making him even less significant than most presidents. I dunno. I hate to think of how many million dollars of tax-funded productivity is being lost because, somehow, a three-day weekend wasn’t already long enough for us to come to terms with the death of a former President. It doesn’t make good economic sense. There wasn’t a national day of mourning when Simon Wiesenthal died last spring, and surely he did more for humanity than President Ford. There wasn’t a national day of mourning when Milton Friedman died in November, though he was probably far more influential (if less remembered) than President Ford.

There was, however, the death of another international figure. At 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, the 30th of December, 2006, Saddam Hussein, former Iraqi head of state, was hung at the gallows. He was hanged for ordering the killing of 148 Shiites in the city of Dujail in 1982. His final moments and death were broadcast on Iraqi national television.

This wasn’t a death of old age. This wasn’t a quiet, expected death, surrounded by friends and family. This was the public execution of an international figurehead, publicly broadcast in nation torn by hatred, violence and death. Following his death, a bomb was detonated in a Kufa fish market, killing 31 people and wounding 58 others. In northwest Baghdad, two cars exploded, killing 37 civilians (innocents) and wounding 76 more in the neighborhood. Iraq reports a total of 92 deaths around the country from bombings and death squads by the end of the day on Saturday. Most tragically, this number isn’t much higher than the average daily death toll since Saddam was removed as Iraq’s leader.

I’m not going to be so bold as to pass judgment on Saddam’s guilt or innocence, but his public execution leaves me very upset. I’m not a supporter or opponent of the death penalty, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Saddam’s public execution will only beget more violence in a country already rent by violence and civil war. It’s troublesome to me that a modern, 21st century International Community can stand by and passively condone the execution of a former international leader. Especially over something that happened 24 years ago. It’s strange to think that, four years before I was even BORN, Saddam’s fate was sealed.

In December, 109 American soldiers have been killed in Iraq. And I find myself wondering… why are their deaths pardoned? To what extent were their deaths ordered by our national leader, who sent them into Iraq’s hotbed of violence … for what? God, I think that’s the kicker. There’s no answer to the WHY question. WHY did we invade Iraq in the first place? WHY is Bush trying to send an additional 17,000 to 20,000 Marines into Iraq, when the national consensus is that Americans want want our troops home, safe from harm?

Why, why, why?! Some say it was for oil. But I can’t accept that. I can’t accept that, 2,998 American soldiers have been killed in Iraq for the sake of secure oil reserve. I CAN’T believe that. But I keep asking WHY we went into Iraq in the first place, and I can’t get a satisfactory answer. Because Bush had an itch that Saddam might have WMDs, despite his advisers assurances to the contrary? If so, why hasn’t North Korea been invaded? Because of 9/11? We invade Iraq because an Afghani (which, despite a distinctly ignornant, American tendancy to generalize every nation in the Middle East as “one of those countries, over there,” is a DISTINCTLY different country, with its own history, culture, problems, etc) terrorist group attacked America? Would it make sense for Senegal to invade Canada is a group of KKK members bombed a Senegali commerce center? I know, these questions have been asked before. These points made previously, ad nauseum. But they’re still with me. Still, robbing me of some measure of peace, of hope and belief in the “system.”

I dunno. I guess I find it hard to answer, for myself, why the system legitimizes the death of 109 MORE Americans in Iraq, in the supposed name of national security, and condemns a man to death for the death of 158 Shiites, in the name of Iraqi national security.

—
Anyhow. Back from reading about … Mt. Kilimanjaro. Sheesh.
—

So anyhow. I’ll declare Tuesday as a national day of mourning, but to mourn the execution of an international leader, not the natural death of a rather insignificant American president. I don’t know what it will accomplish, other than to focus my thoughts on this troublesome international state of affairs, but I probably won’t eat on Tuesday. I don’t know how else to mourn. I can’t cry, and scoring my body with rocks or heaping ashes on my head seems a bit… like a throw-back to the days when life was brutish, nasty and short. When murder and execution were the way of things.

… “damned environmentalists!” … Ok… maybe I am. Regardless!

Jade’s right: there are many other solutions to the environmental problems facing our generation. A big first step would be the radical reduction of carbon dioxide belching coal-fired electrical plants. Another would by the American adoption of the Kyoto Protocol.

There is, however, no environmental panacea. Environmental damage comes from myriad sources; there is no single “cure-all” for environmental issues. The solution is complex and multifaceted. Finding sources of green energy is part of the solution. Recycling is yet another part of the solution. Changing our habits of consumption, yet another part. And– changing our diet may, too, be a part of the solution.

I can’t change energy policy decisions. Nor can I, even though I vote, get America to ratify the Kyoto Protocol. I can, however, recycle my beer bottles, ride my bike from time to time instead of taking my car (being sure to come to a complete stop at all stop-signs! ug!), and try to reduce my meat consumption: all infinitesimally small parts of a gargantuan solution. It’s what I can do. Here and now.

Look: I am not saying that everyone needs to suddenly stop eating meat! I admit that, by becoming a vegetarian, I am an extreme example. It’s not an example that I try to push on to others, or expect others to follow. I do contend, however, that reducing (not eliminating!) our global meat consumption is an important part of a sustainable future.

I don’t suffer any delusions of grandeur: I don’t think of myself as “saving the planet,” or even “just doing my part.” I’m not on a mission to save the world from itself. I’m just … not eating meat.

But you don’t have to become a vegetarian. Really! That doesn’t bother me. But what I DO want is for you to realize that, when you go to Wendy’s, it’s not just $.99 you’re paying for your Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger. I want you to make an informed choice– or what I consider to be an informed choice, anyway. (I mentioned externalities as a cause of market failures below. Imperfect information, is another (of four) causes of market failures.)

So yeah, there’s a political agenda to me being a vegetarian. I want to
   1) increase awareness of environmental issues surrounding the meat industry
   2) encourage the development of an alternative, non-meat-centric cuisine.

Meat is tasty– there’s no denying that. But vegetarian dishes can be equally tasty. (Want proof? Come over, and I’ll cook you dinner some time.) The reason that vegetarian food has unsavory connotations is simply because our Western culinary tradition has not invested itself into meat-alternatives.

We have this sacred “meat and potatoes” mindset: that, for some reason, every meal must contain meat. Perhaps this is a hold-over from our “rugged”, romanticized American past: ranching is as mucn an inviolable stronghold and romanticized images as the small, American farm (or homestead).

As an aside, just doing a little reading on farm subsidies should be enough to convince you that we could do well to stop nurturing and protecting this (small American farm) icon from our past, and to open American agriculture to the vagaries of the open market. (What’s this? Am I supporting the removal of government subsidies? Yeah, I am: they don’t make sense, especially in this case.)

Anyhow. Back on track: It’s not true! You do NOT need meat at every meal. This is an anachronism: an unfounded and illogical bias that has no place in a modern world. It should be abandoned in the rubbish heap of the past, where racial segregation and sexist discrimination reside! “Meat and potatoes” is parochial and passé, regardless of the going trends in Miles City, MT or Kaycee, WY. I’m emphatic on this point!

Whew…. deep breath… count to ten. Ok. Much better. Back to business:

Indian, Italian and Mexican culinary traditions place far less emphasis on the meat (although this fact is often lost in the Americanized representation of these respective genres: Tex-Mex is often little more than Mexican, con carne). And, frankly, I prefer each to our often bland and uninspired “American” cuisine– consisting largely of hot dogs, hamburgers, “casseroles”, and “hot dishes”.

As part of my present period of hiatus, I’m taking time to renew some of my principles, including the fact that I am a vegetarian. I have been for nearly five months. For those don’t fully understand my decision, allow me a few paragraphs to explain why I am a vegetarian.

When I stopped eating meat (red meat especially) in August, it was with a singular aim: reducing my environmental impact. Prior to this summer, I had remained (at the time, blissfully) unaware of the huge environmental implications of consuming meat. A little research and a few startling facts quickly changed that. I found that, basically, we have is a situation where 89% of America’s cattle are raised from infancy in feed lots. This has two big implications.

The first is the massive amount of feed and energy cattle require as they mature– the huge amounts of grain, especially. Waiting to reach the age of slaughter, feed-lot cattle are fed a large amount of grain in proportion to the amount of human food they produce. The end result is such that for every calorie of meat produced for human consumption, seven to ten calories of grain are invested. This grain must be sown, raised, harvested, and transported to the feed lots repeatedly to sustain the animal herds. Then, once the animals are of age, the cattle themselves must be transported, slaughtered, packaged, and eventually distributed again before finally appearing in our grocery stores. Livestock production is the world’s largest use of agricultural land; each step requires petroleum and creates pollution.

It’s an oft’ quoted fact that adopting a vegetarian diet reduces one’s petroleum consumption as much as trading in one’s car for a bike. If the whole world consumed as much red meat as Americans, the world’s petroleum reserves would be empty by 2020. I can’t give up my car (though I can buy a Terra Pass), but I can give up meat.

The second implication is the result of a 1.3 billion head cattle population on a finite planet of interconnected systems. The waste produced by cattle causes ammonia and nitrate pollution of soil, rivers and water systems. Much of the manure produced by cows in Holland, for example, must be shipped from Holland because their soil and water systems have reached a point of saturation.

Moreover, as unlikely as it sounds, the standing cattle population is also a significant contributor to global warming, producing some 25% of the world’s methane: about 10 per cent of all greenhouse gases.

Global warming, incidentally, is no longer theory but established reality. According to the recently released report commissioned by Tony Blair, we must act now to curb the emission of greenhouse gases. Failure to do so will lead to a global economic failure comparable only to the Great Depression in scale and severity, as coastal lands are subsumed in glacial waters and changing climate patterns precipitate desertification and removal of arable land.

It falls on the shoulders of this generation to address this looming and potentially disastrous threat. Reducing global meat consumption is a mandate of a sustainable future. There has been a trend among developing nations to adopt an increasingly Western diet and reliance on meat. If current trends continue, there will be an estimated 4.6 billion cattle by 2050 (with a caloric intake equal to 4 billion humans). In terms of renewable resources, the Earth’s population capacity–widely estimated at 10 to 12 billion people–can be altered drastically by diet; a vegetarian’s diet requires 70% less agricultural land than a non-vegetarian.

These are just two of the more poignant examples of environmental impact, among myriad others.

Regardless of environmental concerns, I’ve discovered other distinct benefits to being a vegetarian as well. Red meat, though a significant source of protein, is also a significant source of cholesterol. There is nothing inherently unhealthy about red meat; the quantity of red meat consumed by most Americans, however, leads to the diets high in cholesterol that have been directly linked to heart disease. Packages of low-grade ground beef should come with a message from the Surgeon General: SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Red meat increases the risk of coronary heart disease and other forms of cardiovascular disease.

The corollary of eating less meat is eating more grains, fruits and vegetables. A vegetarian diet (as per my own research; contrary to some claims) is not inherently more healthy than a mixed diet. By being very intentional about food choice, however, I’ve noticed a marked improvement in my diet. I’ve felt demonstrably healthier this fall, a result, I believe, of eating more healthy and nutritious foods. Eating should leave one feeling refreshed and invigorated, not greasy, lethargic or bloated. This fall, I’ve felt better, had more energy and have been more alert. A minor cold aside, I was never sick this fall, despite living in close quarters with many others who were.

In short, I’ve found my vegetarian diet to be rewarding, both from a sense of environmental consciousness, as well as in terms of my personal health. It’s surprisingly easy– though, I must admit, I’m still tempted by the occasional hamburger, my desire to eat other meat has abated entirely. Most restaurants (the “Outback Steakhouse” being a disagreeable exception) offer vegetarian entrees. Many fast food restaurants do not, but I’ve come to see this as an advantage: just one more reason to avoid food that’s thoroughly unhealthy.

In closing, I’m very much satisfied with my decision to be a vegetarian; it is my full intention to remain one for the foreseeable future. If you’ll allow me, I would encourage you to consider reducing your meat consumption, both for yourself, and for future generations who will live to inherit our decisions.

… I’m DONE!. SO done. Done like tofurkey after three hours in the oven. Done like Brooks– as in … brooks & dunn? Oh noes. Seriously, I’m done. Done like too many dunn similes.

(disclaimer: the rest of this post is just a bunch of me praising myself, which isn’t even worth reading. There’s an awesome Format song that starts “can we take the next hour / to talk about me / to talk about me / and just talk about me…” You might as well click on to apple.com or some place interesting like that)

Done done ondoen Done Done done oneonefonefo dun dun dun.

Seriously. I’ve never worked this hard. Never so hard, nor so long. I’ve never slept so little. Seriously. This isn’t the sort of thing you post on a public board, but I’ve given myself a hemorrhoid from too many nights of caffeine induced diarrhea. Hey. There’s two words in a row with two Rs. How cool. Seriously, though, if you’ve never had more than 500mg or so of caffeine in a single evening, look it up. That’s what happens. Then do that every other night or so for two weeks straight. Uh.. yeah. I’m going to go see a doctor. Soon.

I have black marks up and down my right forearm, like track marks on a heroin addict. When I read, I flick my pen. Sometimes I miss, and the tip goes flying. Sometimes into my arm. Based on how many black marks are on my arm… I’ve been studying a LOT.

But … it’s just so exciting. I’ll NEVER take more difficult courses as an undergrad. More demanding courses, anyway. I’ll never have to work this hard again. But I did it. I made it through. And by all indications, I did it with flying colors.

Academically, anyway. Personally, the last week has actually been about the worst week I’ve had since fall of my freshman year…

But, right now, it’s absolutely BLIZZARDING outside. (Yeah, I know that’s not a verb, but eat me). When I dashed over to Wilson Hall (see: 300m from my dorm) this morning to slip my paper under my prof’s door (hopefully he’ll be fooled into thinking I put it under his door last night… or he just won’t care…), I had a solid quarter inch of snow caked on my by the time I made it back. On my way to work, I was trouncing through an inch of thick, heavy snow. When I dropped Patrick off at the airport at 5:00 a.m. this morning, it was 55 degrees and there wasn’t a hint of snow. Man, Bozeman’s beautiful in the snow. I think the MSU architects must have spent a lot of time thinking about “now, how would this look through snow so thick you can barely see what’s in front of you?” because it’s beautiful. MSU is fine the rest of the year, but it’s BEAUTIFUL today.

And I’m done.

Well, mostly. I still have a research paper to write when I get home, but I already have all the research done for it– I just need to come up with 5-7 pages about my topic. Actually, the challenge will be to ONLY write seven pages. I have seven pages of TINY notes. Ah…

No, what makes this feel so good is that, for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I’ve genuinely and CONSISTENTLY applied myself. I’ve worked hard. I’ve planned (pretty) well. (I don’t think I went to bed once this semester on the night before a paper was due, but on the other hand, I always got them in on time, or on time enough…). I didn’t waste time. I didn’t get distracted. Well, in a big way. I think I might have mild AD/HD. That’s ANOTHER trip to a doctor over break. Yay!

The window sill next to my desk is lined with empty Rockstar cans. Or Deathstar cans, as I call them– I’m going to detox over break. No caffeine, no sugar, no alcohol. And I’m going to go see about a half dozen doctors. And a month from now, I’m going to be well rested and healthy. Next semester I’m going to sleep more. I’ll live shorter… but ya know what? I’m fine with that. I’m absolutely fine with that.

This morning’s paper? Nine pages. Twenty-nine footnotes. All original research (I had to pull out microfilm archives for two of my sources. How COOL is that?!). The research was good, and the analysis was strong. There was a little bloat that I’ll probably cut when I reread the paper after I sober up (see: get some sleep), but it’s pretty well written, too. UNTOUCHED subject matter. To the best of my knowledge, NO ONE has written a paper evaluating the success (and lack thereof) of Federal Bureau of Indian Affairs policy from 1850 to 1890 with regards to the Spokane Indians. Ha!

Really, though, I LOVE history. I like doing RESEARCH, and writing analytical papers is immensely challenging but equally rewarding, when you find a particular angle, then build support for it and present your case in a logical, well-supported manner. There’s a good chance that I’m going to be doing research under Dr. Rydell next semester, which is a possibility that THRILLS me.

Seriously. I want to be published. I want to be published as an undergrad. I want to be published as a JUNIOR. Oh… delusions of grandeur. But maybe, just maybe…

I feel I’m well on my way.

Oh, cross my fingers for my GPA. Cross my fingers…

Man, I guess I’m overdue for a post. Well, go figure. I guess I’m overdue for some quality time with my bed, too (really, its hard on our relationship when I only get to see her for a few hours, a couple times a week … my bed that is!). But, as long as I’m at work, I might as well post. No worries, though. No worries.

Uh… yeah. The downer about doing homework for like 16 hours a day is that there really isn’t any time for interesting things to happen (I mean, screen quotas in France are interesting and all… but not the sort of thing to write home about!).

Uh. I’m not going to be evicted. Did I write that already? That was like a week ago, actually, but what-ev. Instead, I get to do a “community service” project where I will draft a proposal about how to prevent future generations from misusing the back porch … er… fire-escape. My proposed solution is simple: build another back porch, and students won’t be tempted to use the fire-escape. Huh.

In other news, we’re waiting for it to get cold again so we can build our waterfall off the side of the quad by running a hose on the roof all night. Then, when the waterfall is big enough … we’ll climb it? Yeah. But it needs to get cold again for that to happen.

OH. I went ice climbing last weekend, which was pretty freaking sweet. Actually, I don’t have any pictures that do it justice, but … such as I have give I thee? Ice Climbing.