I'm so tired of running around. I just want to relax and breathe.
Someday I'll get the chance to write again...
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
This is the rest of the story...
I've received a lot of nice comments since coming back to school about my last post. People tell me it was amusing. Well thankyou. Maybe someday when I'm dead and gone my great grand-neice will publish my diaries and make them into a book. But of course, you won't be able to read them then either because you'll hopefully be dead too. Sorry, I mean that in the nicest sense. I'm not wishing for your death. I mean that for your greatest good. Nobody wants to live forever right? I'll let you in on a little secret. On my last diary I wrote on the first page specifically how many generations must pass before anyone is allowed to read it. I think I'm very nervous about people reading that kind of stuff so this blog is pushing my limits in what I can and cannot bring myself to share. I don't live some secretive creepy life. I just experience the ups and downs of life and I write about them as they are. It's been so good to keep a journal throughout college. I think everyone really should and there aren't too many things I think are so universally important for everyone to do. So take that seriously ok?
Anyway, back to reality and this surfacy superficial post that will only go as deep as I allow because you have to wait for my book to come out in 2105...
I've been asked to share what else I did over break. I only shared one day, but that's probably because the best stories are from that day. I promise, no other day was as humbling and emberassing and full of story as that day, so the rest of this entry is just facts... nothing funny.
I arrived on Saturday and my brother picked me up at the Baltimore airport. I hung out with him and my cousins who live in Bethesda. That night we met up with a friend of his at a bar (no I don't drink, but I appreciated the smoke-free atmosphere!). His friend is from Peru so I got to talk to him about ceviche and IncaKola and stuff like that. The next morning I took my brother's car and drove down to Virginia to stay with my aunt and uncle. Wow, even though the signs may say 55, everyone does 80. So I got to drive like a maniac also.
My visit with my aunt and uncle was amazing. My uncle is sick with cancer, but they have such a faith and peace that they are in God's hands, come what may. When my aunt was not tending to my uncle she was out in the living room with me sitting on the couch talking about God. She taught me so much. I feel like I went through three full days of spiritual training. We talked about nothing else. I admit, it wore me out. But I'm glad it did. If it didn't, I'd begin to question if any change at all took place. My physical weariness was proof to me that there was change taking place in my spirit. I am so thankful. I want to talk more about the lessons I learned later so this is not too long.
I drove back to DC on Wednesday morning and this is the amusing day I described already. Thursday I decided I had had enough of the metro and downtown so I drove to a couple stores and a mall where everyone wore furry coats and pointed their noses toward the ceiling. Every store I went into, the workers would follow me around asking if I needed help. Did I look like that much of a hoodlum to them? At one point I was walking around the store with a shirt from a clearance rack in my hand and I was still looking around at the other clothes. The worker who had followed me the entire time came by my side and says "Don't you want to try that on before you buy it?" I looked at her with pure confusion... "I'm... not... in line to buy it right now. I'm still looking." Then when I finally go to the counter to buy it, she asks me "Did anyone help you today?" Once again, confusion and irritation in my voice... "Um, only you, a few times." She blushed and mumbled something. My advice: Don't go to the White Flint Mall unless you're dressed for the occasion.
We went to dinner that night at another bar with my cousins and their daughter where they were auctioning off dates with firemen. I hope I never have to auction myself off. I think I'd rather not.
On friday, Joe took me to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. Wow, that place is amazing... especially the dolphin show. I felt like a little kid. I'm so amazed by everything, especially fish lips. Fish lips are one of the funniest things on this planet. There's so much variety. Every breed of fish has different lips and all are equally amusing. Some are puckering up to kiss you, others are in the O-shape of constant surprise, and others just like to smile, a lot. My favorite tank had a really fat fish who swam like he was standing up on his hind fins and he hovered at the top of the tank looking like he was belting out opera songs. Another fish swam back and forth beneath him opening and closing his fish lips like he was laughing at him. Sorry, I know nobody cares this much about fish lips.
Saturday I flew back to Indianapolis. And that's my spring break. To everyone who knew about my dilemmas leading up to it, this was all meant to be. I know now. I truly believe God had a plan and major lessons he wanted me to learn, which I'll share later. When I see things come together like this, I have to admit, even though it's hard to believe, God must love me a lot and my life is truly in his hands.
Anyway, back to reality and this surfacy superficial post that will only go as deep as I allow because you have to wait for my book to come out in 2105...
I've been asked to share what else I did over break. I only shared one day, but that's probably because the best stories are from that day. I promise, no other day was as humbling and emberassing and full of story as that day, so the rest of this entry is just facts... nothing funny.
I arrived on Saturday and my brother picked me up at the Baltimore airport. I hung out with him and my cousins who live in Bethesda. That night we met up with a friend of his at a bar (no I don't drink, but I appreciated the smoke-free atmosphere!). His friend is from Peru so I got to talk to him about ceviche and IncaKola and stuff like that. The next morning I took my brother's car and drove down to Virginia to stay with my aunt and uncle. Wow, even though the signs may say 55, everyone does 80. So I got to drive like a maniac also.
My visit with my aunt and uncle was amazing. My uncle is sick with cancer, but they have such a faith and peace that they are in God's hands, come what may. When my aunt was not tending to my uncle she was out in the living room with me sitting on the couch talking about God. She taught me so much. I feel like I went through three full days of spiritual training. We talked about nothing else. I admit, it wore me out. But I'm glad it did. If it didn't, I'd begin to question if any change at all took place. My physical weariness was proof to me that there was change taking place in my spirit. I am so thankful. I want to talk more about the lessons I learned later so this is not too long.
I drove back to DC on Wednesday morning and this is the amusing day I described already. Thursday I decided I had had enough of the metro and downtown so I drove to a couple stores and a mall where everyone wore furry coats and pointed their noses toward the ceiling. Every store I went into, the workers would follow me around asking if I needed help. Did I look like that much of a hoodlum to them? At one point I was walking around the store with a shirt from a clearance rack in my hand and I was still looking around at the other clothes. The worker who had followed me the entire time came by my side and says "Don't you want to try that on before you buy it?" I looked at her with pure confusion... "I'm... not... in line to buy it right now. I'm still looking." Then when I finally go to the counter to buy it, she asks me "Did anyone help you today?" Once again, confusion and irritation in my voice... "Um, only you, a few times." She blushed and mumbled something. My advice: Don't go to the White Flint Mall unless you're dressed for the occasion.
We went to dinner that night at another bar with my cousins and their daughter where they were auctioning off dates with firemen. I hope I never have to auction myself off. I think I'd rather not.
On friday, Joe took me to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. Wow, that place is amazing... especially the dolphin show. I felt like a little kid. I'm so amazed by everything, especially fish lips. Fish lips are one of the funniest things on this planet. There's so much variety. Every breed of fish has different lips and all are equally amusing. Some are puckering up to kiss you, others are in the O-shape of constant surprise, and others just like to smile, a lot. My favorite tank had a really fat fish who swam like he was standing up on his hind fins and he hovered at the top of the tank looking like he was belting out opera songs. Another fish swam back and forth beneath him opening and closing his fish lips like he was laughing at him. Sorry, I know nobody cares this much about fish lips.
Saturday I flew back to Indianapolis. And that's my spring break. To everyone who knew about my dilemmas leading up to it, this was all meant to be. I know now. I truly believe God had a plan and major lessons he wanted me to learn, which I'll share later. When I see things come together like this, I have to admit, even though it's hard to believe, God must love me a lot and my life is truly in his hands.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
a foreigner
I am writing this mostly for myself. I am too lazy to write everything by hand in my journal, so I'm keeping my spring break memories on this. So sorry if you were looking for a nice fun entry. Consider this a look into my diary...
I am a foreigner in these strange lands and the people are on to me. The girl on the metro on my way to downtown DC yesterday knew it. I could tell. She sat in her pretty little seat and glared at me, maybe because I was the only person standing and I was clinging to that pole with all my strength so the train wouldn't hurl me into the lap of that angry looking woman in a furry coat doing a crossword in the seat in front of me. I guess you have to be pushy on these trains to get a seat? But that guy in his 20s should have politely taken his leg down from the seat next to him and offered it to me, like the gentlemenly guys at IWU would have... but I stood over him, clinging to the pole, legs spread to keep my balance, looking like a total mid-western fool... and he didn't notice. As the trains (cars? what do you call these things?) rolled on and we picked up more people on their way to work, I watched to see how others managed to keep their balance. One girl just leaned against a wall and talked on a cell phone. I don't know how she did it. Others look just as natural as they hold on to the pole with one hand, briefcase in the other, and they can even keep their feet close together in a normal standing position. I looked down at me feet. They just looked ridiculous. I moved my feet together and shoved my right hand in my pocket. The train lurched forward and so did I. So I decided to wrap my left arm around the pole, which works very well. But soon my legs got tired and I realized other people were finding seats, and that girl who knew I was from the midwest was still staring and glaring at me. So I waited til the next stop and walked cautiously forward (even when the metro is resting, I can't seem to walk straight) and found a thin woman with an empty seat next to her. You see, I think they built these metros in days when Americans were a lot less plump. The reason I was too afraid to sit in the empty seats was because most people had extra chub hanging over into the other seat space and I was too ashamed to try to squeeze in next to them and fail, reminding them of their extra chub. I promise, it was for their own good. They didn't need the reminder. So I found the thin woman and I asked, or kind of mumbled, "I think I should sit down now, can I sit here? I should sit down now." She looked up from her paper, with a look of surprise and irritation, and mumbled something back and looked back at her paper. Later, I told my brother Joe, who I am visiting here, about this and he laughed at me. "You're not supposed to ask permission! You're just supposed to sit!" I hate how people look either angry, gloomy, or tired on those trains. The only happy people I saw were foreigners.
At Metro Station where it was time to switch trains, I was focused on myself and getting to the right train. I was totally oblivious to the outside world until this little old lady who looked more lost than myself came up to me. "Oh Lord," I thought. "Why me of all people. Don't ask me anything, please..."
"Veinti.... veinti... veinti-uno?"
"What?"
"Veinti? Veinti-uno?"
"21?" (I was proud that I could figure this one out, atleast I thought)
She looked beyond me and the space between her eyes wrinkled and I could tell she was very very lost. I watched her face as she searched for the right words, but she soon gave up and walked on. I thought, hmm, maybe she thought I spoke spanish or something? How exciting! Maybe I looked hispanic to her... maybe I didn't look boring old American to her! (I love the thought of being anything but the part-german, part-irish or scottish that it seems everyone I know is) Yes it was selfish. I didn't seem to care about helping her. I was too busy glorying myself in the thought that she thought I wasn't American! Now, this is the kind of foreigner I wouldn't mind being, I thought. I turned and watched her walk on... and walk right up to a blond girl who was clearly American... and I laughed. I don't mind laughing in public sometimes. I wish I could just tape-record the thoughts in my head because they'd make you laugh too.
I got off the train at the Smithsonian stop. I rode up the escalator into the glorious sunshine above. I walked out onto the Mall and looked out at the shiny capital building ahead of me. I was headed in the right direction. I was planning on visiting the Smithsonian American Indian museum and then meet Joe in the lobby to get some lunch. But my journey had taken much longer than expected, so I planned on just seeing the exhibits after I met Joe for lunch. The museum definitely stood out in it's odd architecture and all, so I quickly found it and walked into the lobby and plopped down on a bench to bask in a ray of sunlight that was coming in the window. I closed my eyes and smiled... I had made it. And I had found warm sunshine to sit in as I waited. I called Joe up, "I have arrived. I found my way! And I didn't get lost!" I opened my eyes to see a big security guard standing over me. "Excuse me, ma'am, but that isn't a bench that you're sitting on."
I jumped up and and followed him to a table where he needed to search my bag. He found my Bible in one of the pockets and a big smile spread across his face and I noticed he was missing an awful lot of teeth. He said, "You believe this?" I said, "Yes I do, all of it." Then he went on to tell me about Jesus and why we need him and he looked so proud as he explained it to me. I just stood there and smiled. I wish I were the type of person that spouts out "Amen!" every once in awhile cause I think he would have appreciated it.
I left my new security guard friend and went down the escalator to look around a bit. So far, I was very unimpressed by the museum. Nothing reminded me of Native Americans yet. And downstairs it was a bunch of "art" that even I don't appreciate. Young guys my age were walking around rubbing their chins and saying "hmm" and I quickly did a lap... where are the Indians? This is a crappy museum, I thought. I went up to the third floor and found the same old crap. I went to the gift shop and it was full of books about artists, and I knew for a fact some of them were not Native Americans. I still cannot believe it took me that long to realize what you probably realized from the beginning. This was not the American Indian Museum. And I don't know why I thought there was even a chance. This was a modern art museum. And I had sat on a piece of that "art" in the lobby thinking it was a bench... and I am slightly proud of that.
I slipped out the same door I came in, hoping my Jesus-loving friend would not notice me and ask why I left his museum so quickly. I love Jesus, I hate your art.
As I made my way to the real American Indian museum, I got mixed into a group of school kids on a field trip. I was herded like cattle with them across the roads and along the sidewalk. There was no way out. They were headed to the same place. What joy. When they stopped at intersections to wait for the little crosswalk thing to light up, I stopped with them and waited. I stood above them and I guess I could have pretended to be a chaperone since I felt so silly. As we walked into the museum, there were ducks swimming in the little ponds around it. Two nerdy looking boys from the group smiled and looked at each other and the one with the dark bowl cut pushed his glasses up between his eyes and said in a nasal voice "I think it's mating season..." and the two of them giggled. Something about that made me laugh out loud and I just stood there looking at them laughing.
I ate a buffalo taco salad at the museum. It was amazingly delicious. It was also a $15 meal.
I looked around the museum after lunch. It was much better than the modern art museum. But I appreciated the building itself better than the exhibits. I felt like the exhibits were really random and hard to follow. I wished there were signs that said "begin here" and "end here" but judging by the architecture I guess that's just not their style. I found the Tohono O'odham (however you spell it) Indian tribe that lives in southern Arizona and I stood in the middle of their circular exhibit and smiled. Overhead they had a panoramic circle of the Sonoran desert to "set the mood." I loved it. For some reason, I feel like I'm really from Arizona and someone tricked me into thinking I'm from Ohio. And when I get a glimpse or a scent of something that reminds me of Arizona, everything around me fades away and it's just me and my memories. And when I open my eyes, I get so homesick.
After that museum, I had enough time to go see the museum of Natural History. As I walked across the mall lawn, I watched a young father and his son standing in the center taking pictures of the captital building. Then I noticed the father looking at me smiling. Now that is wierd, I thought, since I get the feeling people don't smile so much here. He held out his camara and asked if I'd take a picture. Before he got all his words out, I was quickly saying, "Yes, yes" as I took his camara. I clicked the picture and showed it to him. He said it was good and thanked me. I thanked him and walked away. I realized that this experience made me so glad because I was so happy to be noticed. It's an odd thought, but after a day of being alone, but being completely surrounded by people, you start to wonder if maybe you're invisible. I mean, no one smiled at me and nobody said hi. People brushed past me as I walked along the sidewalk as if they didn't notice they hit me. Cars barely stopped when I'd try to cross at crosswalks. And they only would slow down when other people would come up behind me and rush across the street with me. You know how that guy in The Sixth Sense didn't realize he was dead? I kind of felt like that. Other than the jagged toothed Jesus-loving security guard, the veinti-uno lady, and my brother, no one had talked to me all day. I was so happy the father and son asked me to take a picture.
I found my way to Joe's work building at five to ride the metro home with him. I was glad I didn't have to do it again alone. I had felt like the little lost veinti-uno lady alittle too much that day.
I am a foreigner in these strange lands and the people are on to me. The girl on the metro on my way to downtown DC yesterday knew it. I could tell. She sat in her pretty little seat and glared at me, maybe because I was the only person standing and I was clinging to that pole with all my strength so the train wouldn't hurl me into the lap of that angry looking woman in a furry coat doing a crossword in the seat in front of me. I guess you have to be pushy on these trains to get a seat? But that guy in his 20s should have politely taken his leg down from the seat next to him and offered it to me, like the gentlemenly guys at IWU would have... but I stood over him, clinging to the pole, legs spread to keep my balance, looking like a total mid-western fool... and he didn't notice. As the trains (cars? what do you call these things?) rolled on and we picked up more people on their way to work, I watched to see how others managed to keep their balance. One girl just leaned against a wall and talked on a cell phone. I don't know how she did it. Others look just as natural as they hold on to the pole with one hand, briefcase in the other, and they can even keep their feet close together in a normal standing position. I looked down at me feet. They just looked ridiculous. I moved my feet together and shoved my right hand in my pocket. The train lurched forward and so did I. So I decided to wrap my left arm around the pole, which works very well. But soon my legs got tired and I realized other people were finding seats, and that girl who knew I was from the midwest was still staring and glaring at me. So I waited til the next stop and walked cautiously forward (even when the metro is resting, I can't seem to walk straight) and found a thin woman with an empty seat next to her. You see, I think they built these metros in days when Americans were a lot less plump. The reason I was too afraid to sit in the empty seats was because most people had extra chub hanging over into the other seat space and I was too ashamed to try to squeeze in next to them and fail, reminding them of their extra chub. I promise, it was for their own good. They didn't need the reminder. So I found the thin woman and I asked, or kind of mumbled, "I think I should sit down now, can I sit here? I should sit down now." She looked up from her paper, with a look of surprise and irritation, and mumbled something back and looked back at her paper. Later, I told my brother Joe, who I am visiting here, about this and he laughed at me. "You're not supposed to ask permission! You're just supposed to sit!" I hate how people look either angry, gloomy, or tired on those trains. The only happy people I saw were foreigners.
At Metro Station where it was time to switch trains, I was focused on myself and getting to the right train. I was totally oblivious to the outside world until this little old lady who looked more lost than myself came up to me. "Oh Lord," I thought. "Why me of all people. Don't ask me anything, please..."
"Veinti.... veinti... veinti-uno?"
"What?"
"Veinti? Veinti-uno?"
"21?" (I was proud that I could figure this one out, atleast I thought)
She looked beyond me and the space between her eyes wrinkled and I could tell she was very very lost. I watched her face as she searched for the right words, but she soon gave up and walked on. I thought, hmm, maybe she thought I spoke spanish or something? How exciting! Maybe I looked hispanic to her... maybe I didn't look boring old American to her! (I love the thought of being anything but the part-german, part-irish or scottish that it seems everyone I know is) Yes it was selfish. I didn't seem to care about helping her. I was too busy glorying myself in the thought that she thought I wasn't American! Now, this is the kind of foreigner I wouldn't mind being, I thought. I turned and watched her walk on... and walk right up to a blond girl who was clearly American... and I laughed. I don't mind laughing in public sometimes. I wish I could just tape-record the thoughts in my head because they'd make you laugh too.
I got off the train at the Smithsonian stop. I rode up the escalator into the glorious sunshine above. I walked out onto the Mall and looked out at the shiny capital building ahead of me. I was headed in the right direction. I was planning on visiting the Smithsonian American Indian museum and then meet Joe in the lobby to get some lunch. But my journey had taken much longer than expected, so I planned on just seeing the exhibits after I met Joe for lunch. The museum definitely stood out in it's odd architecture and all, so I quickly found it and walked into the lobby and plopped down on a bench to bask in a ray of sunlight that was coming in the window. I closed my eyes and smiled... I had made it. And I had found warm sunshine to sit in as I waited. I called Joe up, "I have arrived. I found my way! And I didn't get lost!" I opened my eyes to see a big security guard standing over me. "Excuse me, ma'am, but that isn't a bench that you're sitting on."
I jumped up and and followed him to a table where he needed to search my bag. He found my Bible in one of the pockets and a big smile spread across his face and I noticed he was missing an awful lot of teeth. He said, "You believe this?" I said, "Yes I do, all of it." Then he went on to tell me about Jesus and why we need him and he looked so proud as he explained it to me. I just stood there and smiled. I wish I were the type of person that spouts out "Amen!" every once in awhile cause I think he would have appreciated it.
I left my new security guard friend and went down the escalator to look around a bit. So far, I was very unimpressed by the museum. Nothing reminded me of Native Americans yet. And downstairs it was a bunch of "art" that even I don't appreciate. Young guys my age were walking around rubbing their chins and saying "hmm" and I quickly did a lap... where are the Indians? This is a crappy museum, I thought. I went up to the third floor and found the same old crap. I went to the gift shop and it was full of books about artists, and I knew for a fact some of them were not Native Americans. I still cannot believe it took me that long to realize what you probably realized from the beginning. This was not the American Indian Museum. And I don't know why I thought there was even a chance. This was a modern art museum. And I had sat on a piece of that "art" in the lobby thinking it was a bench... and I am slightly proud of that.
I slipped out the same door I came in, hoping my Jesus-loving friend would not notice me and ask why I left his museum so quickly. I love Jesus, I hate your art.
As I made my way to the real American Indian museum, I got mixed into a group of school kids on a field trip. I was herded like cattle with them across the roads and along the sidewalk. There was no way out. They were headed to the same place. What joy. When they stopped at intersections to wait for the little crosswalk thing to light up, I stopped with them and waited. I stood above them and I guess I could have pretended to be a chaperone since I felt so silly. As we walked into the museum, there were ducks swimming in the little ponds around it. Two nerdy looking boys from the group smiled and looked at each other and the one with the dark bowl cut pushed his glasses up between his eyes and said in a nasal voice "I think it's mating season..." and the two of them giggled. Something about that made me laugh out loud and I just stood there looking at them laughing.
I ate a buffalo taco salad at the museum. It was amazingly delicious. It was also a $15 meal.
I looked around the museum after lunch. It was much better than the modern art museum. But I appreciated the building itself better than the exhibits. I felt like the exhibits were really random and hard to follow. I wished there were signs that said "begin here" and "end here" but judging by the architecture I guess that's just not their style. I found the Tohono O'odham (however you spell it) Indian tribe that lives in southern Arizona and I stood in the middle of their circular exhibit and smiled. Overhead they had a panoramic circle of the Sonoran desert to "set the mood." I loved it. For some reason, I feel like I'm really from Arizona and someone tricked me into thinking I'm from Ohio. And when I get a glimpse or a scent of something that reminds me of Arizona, everything around me fades away and it's just me and my memories. And when I open my eyes, I get so homesick.
After that museum, I had enough time to go see the museum of Natural History. As I walked across the mall lawn, I watched a young father and his son standing in the center taking pictures of the captital building. Then I noticed the father looking at me smiling. Now that is wierd, I thought, since I get the feeling people don't smile so much here. He held out his camara and asked if I'd take a picture. Before he got all his words out, I was quickly saying, "Yes, yes" as I took his camara. I clicked the picture and showed it to him. He said it was good and thanked me. I thanked him and walked away. I realized that this experience made me so glad because I was so happy to be noticed. It's an odd thought, but after a day of being alone, but being completely surrounded by people, you start to wonder if maybe you're invisible. I mean, no one smiled at me and nobody said hi. People brushed past me as I walked along the sidewalk as if they didn't notice they hit me. Cars barely stopped when I'd try to cross at crosswalks. And they only would slow down when other people would come up behind me and rush across the street with me. You know how that guy in The Sixth Sense didn't realize he was dead? I kind of felt like that. Other than the jagged toothed Jesus-loving security guard, the veinti-uno lady, and my brother, no one had talked to me all day. I was so happy the father and son asked me to take a picture.
I found my way to Joe's work building at five to ride the metro home with him. I was glad I didn't have to do it again alone. I had felt like the little lost veinti-uno lady alittle too much that day.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
i ate beef, er, my words
There was a beef burrito in a bean burrito disguise tonight at baldwin and I ate him. I hope you don't read all that I said yesterday and think I don't really mean what I say when I say I love animals and that I haven't eaten meat since the 11th. Those are both true. But Katrina gave me permission to be carnivorous again. She said she'd rather see me enjoy what I am eating than gag over wierd things like that flatbread, humus dripping, tofu packed something or other that I ate for lunch. So I ate the beef and bean burrito tonight because I didn't feel bad at all doing it. I honestly wanted the beans (which is one advancement in my vegetarian pursuits). The beef was just an extra; an unwanted extra really. Baldwin just doesn't always cater to the non-meat eating people. I regreted it immediately. It was disgusting. But I didn't want to wait in the quesadilla line after that, so I ate it.
To those who are wondering about the whole lent thing (Jason?), I feel guilty even mentioning it. I am not doing this for God. I am not even sure I am doing this for myself. Sometimes I think I am only doing this so I'll have the ability to eat salad at formal occasions and not be the little kid who sheepishly pushes it aside, or tugs on my mom's sleeve and whispers "mom, can you eat this for me?" So that's another reason why I think I should eat meat again, in small amounts. I'll only eat it if it is an "extra" alongside the vegetable. It's the vegetable I want to get myself to eat.
For anyone reading this who has no clue what I am talking about and wonders if I have gone insane, well, I have.
For the past few nights, I have had dreams about eating meat. The first night, it was pizza with sausage and pepperoni on it. I didn't want to pick them off, so I ate them.
The second night, it was much more disturbing... I was a cow. I walked on my hind legs like a human. I was with some tourist group (of humans, and a few of us cows) and we were touring the factory that kills the cows. I had no problem with it. It was just a reality of life. I walked along rubbing my cow chin and going "hmm" as they showed us the conveyer belts and the death devices (I'm glad I don't really remember that part of the dream). We were all very intrigued. I looked over at my friend cow. We all had "My name is" name tags and his said "certified organic." For some reason this meant that he would not get killed. He gave me a nod and I looked away, jealous that I wasn't organic too... whatever that meant.
The whole time, there is a narrator in the dream, telling about how wonderful this factory was. I found out that we were taping for a commercial and I was in it! Then the commercial switched to a hospital scene. There lay on a hospital bed, complete with the hospital gown, a fellow cow with his head taped on with a bunch of tape wrapped around his neck. (This is where you may begin to worry about me and my sanity) I heard the narrator say, "And it's ok if our cows' heads fall off because all of them are 'saved.'" There were some more disturbing events after that that I am not comfortable sharing. But, what the heck was that all about?!?! Saved cows? Heads falling off? And that's just ok?
The third night of the meat-eating dreams, I think I ate a beef stick or something.
I love it. I amuse myself.
To those who are wondering about the whole lent thing (Jason?), I feel guilty even mentioning it. I am not doing this for God. I am not even sure I am doing this for myself. Sometimes I think I am only doing this so I'll have the ability to eat salad at formal occasions and not be the little kid who sheepishly pushes it aside, or tugs on my mom's sleeve and whispers "mom, can you eat this for me?" So that's another reason why I think I should eat meat again, in small amounts. I'll only eat it if it is an "extra" alongside the vegetable. It's the vegetable I want to get myself to eat.
For anyone reading this who has no clue what I am talking about and wonders if I have gone insane, well, I have.
For the past few nights, I have had dreams about eating meat. The first night, it was pizza with sausage and pepperoni on it. I didn't want to pick them off, so I ate them.
The second night, it was much more disturbing... I was a cow. I walked on my hind legs like a human. I was with some tourist group (of humans, and a few of us cows) and we were touring the factory that kills the cows. I had no problem with it. It was just a reality of life. I walked along rubbing my cow chin and going "hmm" as they showed us the conveyer belts and the death devices (I'm glad I don't really remember that part of the dream). We were all very intrigued. I looked over at my friend cow. We all had "My name is" name tags and his said "certified organic." For some reason this meant that he would not get killed. He gave me a nod and I looked away, jealous that I wasn't organic too... whatever that meant.
The whole time, there is a narrator in the dream, telling about how wonderful this factory was. I found out that we were taping for a commercial and I was in it! Then the commercial switched to a hospital scene. There lay on a hospital bed, complete with the hospital gown, a fellow cow with his head taped on with a bunch of tape wrapped around his neck. (This is where you may begin to worry about me and my sanity) I heard the narrator say, "And it's ok if our cows' heads fall off because all of them are 'saved.'" There were some more disturbing events after that that I am not comfortable sharing. But, what the heck was that all about?!?! Saved cows? Heads falling off? And that's just ok?
The third night of the meat-eating dreams, I think I ate a beef stick or something.
I love it. I amuse myself.
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