Cheese Derivatives are Interfering with my Good Intentions...

And the cows aren't laughing.

No. I'm not schizophrenic.

See... My New Year's resolution was to be more true to myself this year, to be more introspective, more authentic, to take the time to figure out what I really want in my professional life...

And to try to make more of a difference in the world around me in my personal life...

And to simply figure out some way to make all of those things come together in a groovy, zen-type, synchrony which would facilitate my profound and lasting inner peace.

That's all.

Yeah. When I make resolutions I make 'em.

I figure I might as well get to the heart of the matter.

I mean, if I get all zen and authentic and all that then my credit card balances will magically fall away with those extra pounds anyway, right?

Ommm....

All kidding aside, I truly do want to be a better person. I want to think more, read more, study more and take better control of my life, my finances, my health and the impact that I'm having on the planet.

I want to be more accountable to me, to what I believe in.

I want to rekindle a bit of that idealistic teenager who was a poet, and who would've never dreamed of selling out to work for the man. (On my "To Do" list for this year is a protest. I don't know what yet, but I'm protesting something. Dammit.)

I want to cut my mindless TV time. I want to be more physically active. I want to explore some new hobbies that I've been drawn to, but never really taken the time to pursue. So, yeah, I want to get to know me a little better. Maybe that sounds silly, but in this hectic, detached, task-oriented, instant-everything world that we live in, I think it's easy to become somewhat of a drone if you don't make a real effort to keep in touch with yourself and your feelings.

Speaking of Drones, I'm thinking about getting one, but I can't decide between a Drone and an iPhone... or is that a "Droid" and an iPhone? Anyway, it's definitely time for an upgrade. I need a keypad so I can text without...

Huh? What were we talking about?

Oh yeah...

So, in my planned introspective time tonight (Joanne is at work), I am playing Beyonce's "I Am Sasha Fierce" far too loudly and reading "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safron Foer. This is the first of about twenty books on my list of enlightenment-oriented literature (which is part of the whole being-a-better-person-thing).

Foer on Ellen:

It's really a darn good book, but don't read it unless you already are, or r-e-a-l-l-y want to be, a vegetarian... make that vegan. You won't make it out the other side a carnivore... Trust me. At least not without feeling guilty about it.

I'm a vegetarian. I've been one since August, sometimes reluctantly, but always faithfully. So, I wasn't at all concerned about any guilt trip that I might get. I was confident that I was good to go. What I found out was that there are a lot more things to feel guilty about than just eating meat. Boy, was I naive. I won't torture you with the gory details, but suffice to say, supporting big dairy and agribusiness in the USA is no longer something that I am willing to do. Period.

I have sworn off eggs ("Cage free" means nothing, folks. Don't be fooled.) and I'm trying my best to give up milk altogether. Soy in a Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks is delish, but watching Silk "milk" curdle in my morning cuppa joe while standing over the sink at 5AM in my desperate, caffeine-deprived haze is a bit different.

It's just not working for me.

I'm struggling here.

And you'd be surprised where dairy can hide.

I went to the cafeteria at work the other day and got a salad and a couple of those little packets of Italian dressing. I was feeling all good about myself and, after thoroughly dousing my lettuce leaves in Italian goodness, I took a quick glance at the list of ingredients on the back of my newly depleted packets. Did you know that Italian dressing (at least the one I picked) contains "cheese derivatives?"

Yep.

Whatever that means.

And don't be thinking "nondairy" creamer is really nondairy, either.

Nope.

It contains "milk derivatives." WTF? Since when is a "milk derivative" nondairy? Tell that to the cow. By the way, according to Foer, our cows aren't laughing. No, folks. There are no "Laughing Cows."

Who came up with that, anyway?

Don't get me started.

The further I get into the gray area between vegetarianism and veganism the more I begin to realize is actually involved in all of this. I mean, I have leather coats and shoes, but according to PETA animals aren't mine to "eat, wear, experiment on, use for entertainment, or abuse in any way." I have to say, ethically, I agree with them... and I guess "them" is "me" now. I joined. But I really can't afford to throw out, donate, or recycle all of my leather items. Thank goodness I don't have any fur. I mean, I've always known better than that, but I only recently started thinking about leather items as even being from animals. It just goes to show the psychological disconnect that we are living in with regard to our exploitation.

I want to educate myself, but it's hard sometimes and it can be more than a little depressing. The very depth and breadth of the problem feels overwhelming. Of course, that's no reason not to take it on, not to learn the truth and then live life accordingly. I just can't stick my head in the sand anymore. I can no longer go about my way, like an ignorant drone, popping chicken nuggets in my mouth like it's all good. It just isn't, folks.

It so isn't.

P.S. I know I run the very real risk of offending a lot of people with this post (or, at least, losing some dinner invitations), but it is my blog and if I can't say how I feel here where can I say it?

I wish I was a great artist. I'd sketch an image of me getting stuck in traffic behind a Tyson chicken truck at 2AM on a bridge crossing the James River. It would show the horror on my face as the lights on the bridge illuminated what I'm sure Tyson wanted very much to keep hidden in the dark of night. Despite my repulsion, I could not bring myself to look away from the miserable scene in front of me. You really can't un-see something like that.