Almost Interesting

Once you step into the kitchen, you’re on MY turf, bitch! You’d best step back: I’m a black belt in the Cuisinart of To-FU!

It’s ironic how similar the kanji for truth and beauty look: 実 (jitsu) is truth and 美 (bi) is beauty. Similarly ironic is how the truth is hardly ever beautiful, nor even something similar to it. The truth, like reality, is often hard and unforgiving; many people are prone to ignore it.

You may not be surprised to read that I don’t believe in precognition. The similarities drawn between the people present at Sina’s birthday party and the pig-men of my nightmares are purely non-physical. The actions, the revelry, the presentation of the victims, even the color of the paint on the wall in my field of vision matched it perfectly. Some of my fan-base has overreacted to the affirmed similarity, probably because the readers did not perceive that the parallels were purely abstract in nature. I apologize for not pointing out my use of metaphor. On the other hand, one reader actually showed a great deal of inner-beauty today and I was deeply moved.

To understand this belief of mine, you must first understand that this is a matter of life and death. Imagine for a moment that we are at a restaurant together and this restaurant serves human babies: roast baby, sirloin baby, human-milk parmesan baby, and even baby hearts. (YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS PICTURE! However, I still recommend looking at it in order to clarify my horror.) That is roughly the equivalent to what I beheld. If you truly can understand the way I see it, you will also understand why it makes me cry and why I cannot bear to look at the spectacle. On Saturday, I had three options present to me, seeing that overwhelming emotion was inevitable: (1) I could have ran out of the place in terror; (2) I could have stood up and begun screaming at everybody; (3) I could have sat there in silence, trying my best to hide my face. I opted for the third because it seemed to be the least disruptive. Imagine for a moment that you are at a table with nineteen of the man in that picture, eating babies. Now you have the same three options. Pick one.

Killing animals for meat, much like clubbing animals for their fur and tanning hides for leather, is an antiquated barbarity only fostered by ignorance, greed, and stubbornness. We no longer have any true need for the consumption of animal-derived products. Even such medicines as insulin and thyroid hormone are now synthetically produced. This holocaust is perpetuated because humans are resistant to change and are greedy for tasty things, despite however cruel and bloodthirsty their derivation may be. Humans are apathetic to the suffering of other beings – out of sight is out of mind. Just because it doesn’t affect us directly doesn’t make it right. (May I recommend the slaughterhouse videos you can find at PETA’s website? One ought to be able to fully comprehend what they are doing before asserting that it’s right.)

I can’t quite describe what this blog is to me: for the most part, it is my diary. Sometimes I use it to communicate with others, but the majority of the writing contained herein is self-reflective. There are about fifty regular readers (unique hits over the course of a week which repeat nearly every week) and many more less-frequent readers. (I have a site tracker program which renders me these statistics along with the IP addresses of those that read.) In fact, I’ve been keeping this blog since May of 2004. If you are one of those who knows me in person and is wondering why I don’t talk much, it is because I view verbal communication as vastly inferior to writing. When somebody puts their thoughts into writing, it is on the record. The things said cannot be as easily dismissed, nor forgotten, nor interrupted. When people write, the medium lends a certain gravity to the text and it becomes that much more meaningful. Besides, I like to inject metaphors into everything and I’m not usually as glib at a moment’s notice. As for personal verbal communication, I dislike it except for when it is with a select few people. (And even then sometimes not!) As I speak, I see people judging me with their eyes. “This one is fat and ugly,” they think. “What she says can have no validity,” their subconscious concludes. I don’t like being looked at by anybody. I’d wear a burka if I thought I could get away with it, but then people would judge me more-so! Then there’s those who draw their conclusions about you without ever saying/writing a word to you. They obtain their suppositions and second- or third-hand distortions and run with them. When they look at you, nothing you can say will change their minds, so it’d be best to not be looked at at all. Anyhow, as the original topic of this paragraph goes: Welcome to my soapbox: one of only two places on Earth where I don’t have to walk on eggshells all day long. You don’t have to read it.

And to my most overreactive fan: You are only seeing that which you wish to see. The first time I met you, you told me what you had expected to see without ever having met me, and you’ve clearly sought out only things which you could distort into supporting your crazy expectations. I tried using logic with you, but you seem to be impervious to it. You assert one thing, I use concrete, provable examples to show how wrong you are, then you claim that these valid points are in some way inadmissible for reasons not relating to the first point. (Yes, I understand the irony of pointing that out because I’m the same way in regard to other issues.) You are scared to see your dear sibling blossoming into maturity as he listens to others’ thoughts and explores perplexing new ideas. This is what we call growing up: learning to incorporate a diverse selection of ideas into one’s own. Yes, I know you’re frightened, but I’ve heard that someday said fear will pass and you come to accept your loved one as an individual, and not just as a fixed piece of a familial unit.

The following is a series of unedited MySpace messages exchanged between Roman’s sister, Sina, and myself on October 23, 2006. I was convinced by a wise friend’s sage advice to unlock it because, as he says, it vindicates me. I have also unlocked and de-Webding-ed (I made that word. It’s mine!) The “Soapbox” entry, too. I don’t think there ever was a reason to lock them to begin with, thus, they are available to the general public.

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Oe
Date: Oct 23, 2006 4:29 PM

I know my fucking brother, and the only damn reason he would ever stop eating meat would be simply because of you and to try to make your crazy ass happy!!! Thats it dude I’m fucking done… how the fuck you gonna say… The villains’ faces had always remained piggish, yet vague and without identity. Today, their faces materialized right in front of me: they were those of people I care about. Who are the peolple you supposedly care about??? Nobody I care about is this cruel!” The faces were clear at last: the people in Roman’s family were the pig-men of my most chilling nightmares. So you gonna keep trying to put wedges between Roman and all of us? I asked Roman if he is going to be an athiest also, but he said no. I’m sure you’ll work on changing that too, won’t you? You always say how Roman is so good and no one could ever be good enough for him but yet you’re doing your best to change him!!! Oh ofcores you’ve never asked him to change anything for you but you know the person Roman is and him seeing you flip out all the time is going to make him want to do things differently to passify your ass… you know to keep from going psycho! Oh and I asked him if OUR FAMILY (mine and Romans) eating meat bothered him and for your information he said no!!! “After I came out, he seemed unhappy, but I cannot be sure if he was genuinely as upset about them as they had made me. I gave Ro some literature to read and urged him not to make a quick decision about the subject”. So there you go!!!

Signed one of the pig-men in Roman’s family
The number 1 pissed off bitch Sina

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Mila
Date: Oct 23, 2006 4:40 PM

If I knew exactly what that restaurant entailed, I’d not have gone. I tried calling the restaurant to ask for details, but received no answer. I know for a fact that Jay and Raquel knew about my meat nightmares before the invitation even went out.

The reason Roman calls each of you on your respective birthdays is because of me. Since when has he remembered people’s birthdays, seriously? I’m the one that urges him to talk to each of you more. When you called moments ago, I was the one who prompted him to pick it up. Raquel just called, but no amount of my asking him to do so this time would work.

And yes, I do care about you whether you will believe it or not. And yes, I was the first person to note that he didn’t seem to be doing this for any reason but me. But of course, even if he WAS bothered by everybody else’s meat-eating (and let me reiterate that I know he wasnt), being the man you and I both agree he is, do you think he’d have said so?

So there you go!!!

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Oe
Date: Oct 23, 2006 4:54 PM

You are fucking rediculous!!! Like I’ve said before we don’t need you AT ALL to keep our relationship going, none of us do!!! He was the same way before and he will remain the same way after you!!! We don’t need to call each other all the time or call on each others birthdays to know and feel the love we have for each other that you’ll never understand!!! Even if he was to call me a bitch to you right now He and I both know that it’d would hurt him more to have to put on a FACADE for you!!! He will tell you whatever you want to hear just to avoid drama because thats the type of person he is!!! As far as him avoiding us… why do you think that is??? He doesn’t wanna hear the hurt cause by or questions from us about you!!! I guess you got screwed out of having a real connection with siblings but that’s not our fault!!! You keep believing what you do and I’ll know the truth ok :) so cootles to you!!! You and I will come head to head soon and I hope you’ll be ready to finally talk in PERSON!!! I don’t need to talk only through the computer!!! Oh yeah and about your “wedding” what do you think ofcorse we ALL wanted him to wait!!!!!!!!!!! We at least wanted to be there. Why do you think he cried so much when he told me? FYI he was so hurt that he listened to you and didn’t have us there!!! He felt bad that we our family got hurt in the process. Girl just be glad my mom hasn’t gotten to you yet!!! I’m sure the day will come so be even more prepared for that ok!!!

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Mila
Date: Oct 23, 2006 4:57 PM

Why not today?

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Oe
Date: Oct 23, 2006 5:08 PM

I’m so pissed off at the way you feel about us after all we’ve done for you and how we tried to make your crazy ass feel welcome that I would do something that Roman wouldn’t like at all, thats why NOT TODAY. Thank you for showing us your true colors and letting your great facade down. That’s the thanks for J.R. and Raquel letting you come out to there house, letting you move in, and all of us accepting you with open arms. Thanks again… I’ll be sure to return the favor!

—————– Original Message —————–
From: Mila
Date: Oct 23, 2006 5:22 PM

Sorry if you get this twice, MySpace… >>

Very well, not today. Later you will be more mellow as things come into perspective. My paranoia has been utterly vindicated, and to tell the truth, I’m a bit shaky with nerves on-edge. Time soothes, heals, and reveals that all things aren’t as bad as they seem after they’ve just happened. Nothing has ended, nothing has changed too much. This is just one brick in the paveway, and eventually, things might be even better than they were between us.

Even though it may not matter to you at the moment, I am not mad at you. I rather lament the barrier that has arisen, but such things are not permanent. (Spelling on that? I forget.) Roman knows and has always known the truth, and that’s what matters most. Someday you’ll know it, too.

I am actually quite grateful to Jay and Raquel for what they have done for me. I like them very much, but have yet to find some adequate way to show my gratitude. Nobody has ever before done so much for me without an ulterior motive. I tried going to church for a while because of all the good they’d shown me, but stopped after the Deacon gave an anti-gay sermon.

If you’ve been reading my blog for more than, oh, a month, you would know a bit about the nightmares I have of the fat men devouring copious amounts of animal flesh. The villains’ faces had always remained piggish, yet vague and without identity. Today, their faces materialized right in front of me: they were those of people I care about.

Today was Sina’s thirtieth birthday. Somebody had chosen a restaurant called Espetus to dine at for the occasion. After checking out their site’s menu and finding nothing but a “meat selection,” I began to have my doubts as to whether I was truly welcome at the party. I tried to call the restaurant to see what, if any, vegan options they had. The phone was never answered. Roman asked Raquel whether they had anything for me, and she assured him that there was. I took a deep breath and tried to accustom myself to the idea of watching people feast upon the innocent for two solid hours. “It’s not my birthday,” I kept telling myself.

Roman and I reached the restaurant on time, but before anybody else. Wind annoying whipped my hair two and fro for half an hour before we were allowed inside. This was bearable, however much I wished to look nice today, but you must admit that it doesn’t contribute much to fostering a good mood!

We finally got in shortly after Junior and Erica arrived. Their presence, though they said little to me, helped my mood a bit. I have to admit that I like them both much, though I know them little. As we sat, the others slowly trickled into their seats. After the last people arrived, it was revealed, much to my horror, that the waiters would be bringing the meat on long, steel spikes, to the table and cutting up animals before my eyes. I felt sick.

The salad bar had less salad than dairy products and seafood. I eventually settled upon white rice, grilled eggplant, and tomatoes. One waiter in particular was very kind to me and personally pointed out everything that was fit for my consumption. He explained to me that he used to be a vegetarian, himself, but working where he did made him bend the other way. All I could say was, “It must be hard,” although I had wanted to say, “They beat the humanity out of you.”

I shoveled the rice down my throat as quickly as I could. I knew I had precious little time in which I could get food down before I’d be too sick to eat any more. Soon, the desfile del muerto arrived and I couldn’t bear to so much as look at the spectacle. I would periodically catch a glimpse of the defiling of the departed, and my stomach would turn. They all sat around laughing and joking, as though they were imprevious to the suffering of their supper.

It was too much to bear; my recurring hellish phantasm was playing out right before my eyes and all I could do was divert them. I was frozen, like in a dream before you realize that you are asleep. I sat there painfully twisting my cotton napkin around my hand until it turned purple. The pain in my arm did little to alleviate my conscience’s anguished cries. I tried telling myself, “It’s just that dream again. Nobody I care about is this cruel!” but I couldn’t make it stick. The faces were clear at last: the people in Roman’s family were the pig-men of my most chilling nightmares.

At last I came out of my head and ran to the restroom. The restaurant was of such a caliber where there were no stalls, as I had hoped: just one room for men and one for women. I had to stand in the hall for a while as waiters whisked the dead into the dining area and empty picks into the kitchen. Naomi stood beside me in line for a minute or two before I got in. I felt bad that I couldn’t talk to her – the tears had started to fall and I couldn’t stand to look anybody in that wretched place in the face. I got into the bathroom and heard a chain saw. I’ve seen enough and heard enough to know that they were sawing up an animal in the back. I cried uncontrollably. I looked at the monster in the mirror. I hate her. I don’t want to be her anymore, with the remnants of the dead she had eaten long ago still sickeningly disfiguring her body. I stuck my head into the toilet, fingers down the throat, let it go. I’ll be damned if I have to keep remnants of my old self around! I will never look back! I want my bones to stick out of my skin – the ultimate statement against the fat men devouring the innocent. That damn hospital got me eating again; I was stupid enough to think that my body may be fine as it is. Now I remember why I’m doing this: I have to reach my goal, gain control, set myself free of this world’s miserable confines. I will transcend it!

My mouth tasted like soap by the time I got back to the table. Soon, I had to hide my face behind my hair in order to mask the crying. I realize that they probably figured out that something was wrong, but thankfully nobody said anything. “Mila, what’s wrong?” What could I say? “You are!”? I pondered for a while the irony of the situation: Everybody else at the table was a Christian. Christians extoll the beauty of His creation and the sanctity of life, yet at this very moment they sit around a table devouring the sinless beings of His masterful creation. Maybe it’s suiting that they use the cross as their symbol? After all, it was the instrument of oppression, torture, and murder.

I began to twist the napkin again. One person whose name I forget but Ro says is Ruthie’s brother, kept eating and eating and eating. It took every ounce of control I possessed to ignore the scene. Damn you, conscience! Who ever heard of an Atheist so concerned with morality and justice? Why must I be cursed with such a strong sense of right and wrong? I guess this must be my cross to bear.

Naomi was kind enough to take Roman and I home. I felt bad that I still couldn’t look at either she or Ro, but that’s how it was. I hope her car seats weren’t real leather. After we got inside our apartment, I cried for a long time. Ro said that he would become Vegan, too. As much as I would like him to do so, I don’t want him to do it just so it’d make me feel better. He’d just go around eating animal products in secret and that wouldn’t be right. He says he’s honestly been thinking about it lately, but I have my doubts. I sat in the closet and listened to the videos about slaughterhouses that he was watching. After I came out, he seemed unhappy, but I cannot be sure if he was genuinely as upset about them as they had made me. I gave Ro some literature to read and urged him not to make a quick decision about the subject.

Why do morals have to be complex like this? Obviously, the moral decision would be to completely agree with him and induct him into a healthier, compassionate Vegan lifestyle, but some part of me cries out that he may not be happy with that. With all the obvious immorality of meat-eating, why am I apprehensive to rubber-stamp Ro’s sudden desire to go Veg? I know he’s been talking about cutting back his animal consumption lately, but I don’t want to force him into something good. The feeling is complex.

Do you remember being told as a child that despite wanting to be an adult, upon reaching adulthood, you’ll soon wish to return to your youth? I always thought that this sentiment had something to do with work, bills, taxes, and the like – I had no clue that it was about the moral obscurity that comes with it. As each day passes, I learn about one more thing to add to the collage that is life. Not one piece matches another. I asked my parents about this recently. They told me that they had indeed meant that the burden of adulthood was work, bills, taxes, et al. I guess I’m all alone in the quest for transcendence.