Crying in the Writing Center

Welp, I'm crying in the corner of the Writing Center. There are no walk-in appointments, so I am at the reports computer grading extra credit that I marshmallowed into giving some theatre history students. I'm weak.

My Thursday commute has been overlapping with a young, foreign father. He gets in the train car, passes out Kleenex packets with a photo of him and his baby on it, and a note that asks for a donation in return for the tissue. I think this is a good business plan because no one is bothered, there is a service given, and he's respectful. Today I decided to give him money, but when I reached in my purse, with him waiting expectantly, no dollar. I felt v bad. He was getting off the train at my stop, so I offered to buy him something at 7/11. He mentioned needing diapers. We walked over together. There were no diapers. I suggested formula. Nope. No formula. I asked if he wanted something else. Now I'd really strung this guy along, and I had to punch in in seven minutes or less. My building, just across the street. He asked for a hot dog.

My whole body got itchy. I looked around, eager to offer a substitution. But it was just candy bars and chips. I didn't think I was gonna sell him on a bag of nuts. It was our turn in line. The cashier asked what we wanted. I told her a hot dog. Guy interrupted, "a cheese hot dog," I put my card in while the attendant prepared the meat. My fingers tingled. I clenched my jaw. I pulled my card when the machine told me to and I said "Have a nice day," to the guy. I ran outside into the cold, just making it to work in time. And now I've helped a dad and killed a pig.

Blackfish Is the Smartest Dumb Thing

Everyone loves Blackfish. Every. Single. Person. It's a well-made doc, it's streaming on Netflix, and it brings out everyone's inner activist. And our inner activist is a good person who we like! But also our inner activist is annoying because our inner activist makes us go out of our way to be that good person. It's always totally worth it, but we forget and stuff!

Blackfish's genius is twofold:

1. It's the least controversial concept ever. Literally no one is on the other side of "Hmm, should we made happy and free whales insane for our lame enjoyment?" You can argue animals don't deserve rights, but you're not gonna argue against flat out cruelty and shady biz. You're just not. So, unlike many powerful documentaries, everyone can agree on it's message. You can bring up Blackfish to any race, creed, politically affiliated person, and everyone's on the same page. And that feels nice. We like to agree!

2. In order to "support the cause" you literally don't have to do anything. To be on the "right" side of the issue you just have to not go to an expensive theme park.

So, like, this explains why people don't freak out with love about Food Inc.? Because doing things is, like, too much! BUT, I just want to say that ACTUALLY being a vegetarian is ALSO just a lack of doing something! Just don't eat meat, y'all. If you'd be bummed about a sad whale, imagine a piglet?

I swear the meat industry has hypnotized our entire culture to forget everything we ever learn about animal processing. I was on the PETA website yesterday to find a rude/true fact I could post under Shells' Instagram of a sausage pizza. Maybe with an emoji pig idk...and I got so sucked in. The hard cold facts are just so sad. Pigs are smarter than dogs. Many never stand in their lives--crammed into steel cages. They are born and murdered in fear. I decide to dedicate my life to the cause and then five minutes later I'm just Googling the cast of Full House. Again.

This is why I'm glad to be a veg. I do forget how bad it is, but when I remember I'm able to wipe my brow and be like, "Oh yeah, I'm not supporting it. Thank goodness." Of course, I'm still not a vegan. #Guilt But, I make steps. I think about it. When I remember to.

Last night, pretty shortly after I had just been sucked into PETA-land, Ro came home and announced a bird had fallen from a tree onto the hood of her car. The little thing was puffy and grey, heaving like mad, cold and impaired. It was heart-breaking. As it was Sunday night we figured the lil baby was going to die before we could get it to a wildlife refuge today. We decided the least we could do is keep it warm as it passed, so I got out a shoebox and some berries. I put on gloves to handle the bird, but when we went back outside it was on the ground. When we approached it shot up and flew in a circle--clearly still injured. But at that point we were just scaring it, so we wished it well as it nestled into a bush.

I don't love animals.* I really don't. It takes me a long time to form an appreciative bond with them. I don't just see humans and decide to be ga-ga over them. Same for kittens. But for how heavy my heart was in the ten minutes I thought about that bird withering away in the night alone, you'd think it was my human child. And that's just nature.

Ro and I sat at the kitchen table with bird care webpages open. I asked, "After something like that..how does anyone eat animals? Literally all animals in factories are tortured in some way." She kind of grimaced and said, "Well, that bird wasn't raised to be eaten. Those animals were." And I sort of laugh/shrugged. "Like slaves you mean? Like how slaves' purpose in the United States were just to serve, so they were treated terribly?" We laughed. Not because slavery is funny, and I'm not directly comparing animals to slaves. I understand one is human and one isn't...but I can't understand that there is much of a difference in matters of cruelty.

South Carolina swine.

Live like a Pharaoh, sing like a sparrow.

*Except I do lose my brains for bats. Man, bats are cool.