eateggs

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.