Water

As a child I thought about what it would be like to live as a water molecule: to openly share myself, my electrons, with other water molecules, like-minded or not. We’d dance an unceasing tango, ever sharing ourselves in the flow of our motion. Our neighbors, our partners, would continually massage and vibrate along us, and sometimes we’d shift states entirely and experience life stuck close and personal as solids or we might chaotically gyrate as gases throughout the air. Through these processes we’d traverse the planet, if not the universe. Hydrogen, from what scientists tell me, does populate so-called empty space.

In creating this thought, I suppose I hungered for a so-called natural law to dictate my social relations. With such a rule I could rest assured that I would meet many people and experience a depth of commingled life with them. We each follow from the same general elements: H20 fused together, order derived from chaos as the dance of shared bonds and intermixing of transient Hydrogen atoms play out.

It struck me early on that every person is connected and that each person deserves respect and attention. That we each exist and together we invoke our world, as do the elements our scientists discover, partially so they can then place symbols on charts to help us understand. Quality judgments need not arise when one considers discrete elements. Each exists as it does, intermingles with others as they do, and together they supposedly form our world.

At some point these combinations grow in complexity and eventually some become aware of the self, which can create the view that each individual entity, composed of myriad elements, is a center. These entities might easily perceive the world as spiraling forth in meaning and scope from some inner core, each separate from another. With time these entities might see each other as the same or similar. With time they might do the opposite. At some point in time I became one of these latter entities.

I believe as a child I realized how potentially isolated we all are from each other and feared having to live in a world derived from this perspective. I took in a multitude of lessons drafted by society that defined who I was and who I should be. I believed these two items, who I was and who I should be, were the same. Who I was is who I should be, seeing that it is who I was. I did not see the mold, a culture, placed around me that I could grow into. Even beyond that, there was little hope that I could see the laboratory that housed the mold. In this Petri dish of sorts I developed my thoughts.

I recall the day my friend became my black friend due to outside influence. I am aware of when I learned money proves your worth. A spot on the television told me how much of an individual I was and how unique I was. I found it hard to accept this supposed truth seeing how a voice backed by images told me, as it told others, how unique I was. I saw a seed of the first value judgment in this idea. The more aware of how unique I was meant I would also realize how different others were. I found this truth isolating, especially as this was when I truly began to conform to society.

Perhaps I designed the water molecule fantasy to reinterpret society; to protect myself from what I sensed was wrong about it. In the fantasy I saw us as all basically the same, equivalents. We freely intermingled. We shared each other. We could do nearly anything. We could go nearly anywhere. We spent most of the time with the molecules closest to us, but these molecules shifted with time. We shared ourselves freely, seeing that we all recognized our similarities. We did not solely interact with water, playing and mingling with substances of all types. In some sense we competed with each other and with the other substances, but this competition did not embody our life, it simply manifested as another aspect of it. The most noticeable aspect remained that we transmuted, we shared, we connected, and that everything could become anything and in this we found no need to battle. Perhaps us water molecules practiced the Tao in a limited sense.

Fantasies like the water molecule idea aren’t enough to transform the world. With age I learned a new version of the water metaphor, one that escaped the land of fantasy and actually transformed my body. I discovered a method. Seeing that my body is a shell composed of water, over fifty percent, sometimes much more, I can imbibe alcohol and replace the water in my cells and spur on temporary growth seeing that C2H6O occupies much more space than H20: a mass of ~46.07 g/mol versus ~18.02 g/mol. I consume alcohol and lose touch with the boundaries that I once understood. I stand taller and rack my head against the entranceway. Instead of gently touching people I thrust my palm out and shove. While in this state, the more something matters to me the less rational thought dictates my actions, as my body grows my brain remains constant in size, eventually becoming pea-sized in proportion to my increasing mass. Once this mass gets going, inertia dictates the so-called natural laws.

I can find benefits in this method, but with time I realized that, for me, the prior water molecule fantasy holds. For the growth induced by alcohol to aid me I must first find a network close in trust, comfort, and similarity to that of the water molecule world. And whenever I find the closest instance of that epitome the benefits gained, when I replace my water with alcohol, recede. It scares me to dismiss Dionysus, the Greek god of freedom. With his fermented grapes we allow him inside of us and we escape the shackles that typically bind us. With alcohol comes freedom.

Dionysus arrived late to the pantheon and as a result not everyone embraced him. Those who dismissed him sometimes suffered immensely. One example from myth involves Pentheus who did not recognize Dionysus as a new god and as a result, through a series of maneuvers, Dionysus beheaded Pentheus. I agree with the lesson gained by this myth, although my take on it might be different then its author’s intent. The concept of freedom is derived by thought. It arrived later then many other “natural laws”. The people who express concepts of freedom often disallow true freedom. We were probably free before we knew of freedom. In order to understand freedom we drink in excess and feel like gods, as per Dionysus.

For me, the water molecule metaphor invokes freedom. It shows a society where individual atoms matter, where they form existence, not the structures they might embody. Eventually all these structures shift, but the essence of the water molecules remains. Certain experiences, conversations, and drugs like alcohol enable me to sometimes jar myself loose from various frames of mind and to consider new comprehensions. They help me realize what I am not when I so want to be something I believe I want myself to be. In this sense they promote freedom. In my experience such freedom is ephemeral and I must really try in order to enact lasting change while this temporary window of opportunity remains open.

I believe there is a better way to accomplish this. The way involves confidence and playfulness and a willingness to accept what is and to cherish what is not.

Vegan Power... Where are you?

I need to visit some vegan restaurants. I started at a nice pace by hitting Veganopolis when I first arrived but my effort level promptly dwindled to zilch. Dwindle probably produces the wrong connotation seeing that Veganopolis was the only vegan place I visited.

At this point I’m severely lacking vegan connections and it’s never quite the same going to vegetarian restaurants with omnivores. There’s almost always a sense that they’d rather go elsewhere or that they believe that a missing ingredient, meat, eludes every meal. There’s a demarked line separating the vegetarian from the omnivore fare, and a quality judgment often separates the two for each side, thus producing the inevitable “this is good for not having meat” or “I could barely tell there was no meat” comment. And then even those that I love most dearly will say something like, “don’t worry I had a large beef burger for lunch,” as if they’re worried about a deficiency of some sort. While I know the words come as a joke, I still find that such comments can turn the meal into something other than what it is, namely two or more friends gathering to converse and dine.

There’s also a missing joy in cooking or baking for omnivores. The same problems that occur with dining manifest when I cook. It can feel pointless to cook a vegan meal for a meat eater, seeing that the meat eater probably would rather consume meat: hence the title of meat eater. Furthermore, the food alone won’t convert anyone and I’ve found that discussing my food-related beliefs only influences those already on the edge and that it doesn’t tend to push them into my circle of thought. In the end it’s a personal decision that comes best and probably lasts longest when the omnivore approaches the vegetarian to request information or advice.
I want to find some vegan comrades or some people who understand the stance but have yet to commit to it. I hope to dine with these people at vegetarian restaurants once I find them. Maybe once I join the animal rights related organizations and meet the various members I will achieve this goal. And from there we’ll raid laboratories, throw paint of fur wearers, and snip the balls off of male pets. Gosh, I can’t wait.

Postscript: I know some people who are “lazy vegans”. These people’s non-vegan-ness comes from the system's failure, not their failure to understand the issues. They are too apathetic to make any real changes, but would go along with veganism if vegans manage to transform society. If there were easier vegan options then these people would eat as vegans. Whereas many omnivores don't care if there are easy vegan options and probably don't want any if there were. Basically what I’m saying is that I often find these “lazy vegans” to be people I enjoy vegan dining experiences with more so than with omnivores. And don’t get me wrong, dining on food devoid of animal byproducts is great whether with carnivores or herbivores.

The Idiot

I’ve been reading The Idiot by Dostoevsky. One topic that arises concerns everyday people, especially those who possess some intelligence but are unable to produce original thoughts. This appears to be a great fear of Dostoevsky’s and it’s also one of mine. Obviously Dostoevsky didn't suffer from this malady...

I believe that I possess a decent amount of intelligence but maybe not enough to do anything worthwhile with it, and – more importantly -- I lack the drive to try. The characters in the novel that fall prey to this situation are inglorious characters. They mostly exhibit negative traits and become the pawns of those who can effect meaningful change. If they try to respond to the world around them, the world that they can barely effect, then it’s often in shameful and near meaningless ways.

So often in my life I recite the words and thoughts of others. I take them in like a sponge but I do not know if I synthesize them in new and useful ways. Even this idea I now write harks back to the concerns of others. I feel like in my youth I came up with some sound ideas but even those lack originality when compared with the body of work presented by those that came before me. Perhaps I came up with these thoughts on my own, but I did not take them to a new level previously undiscovered (or at least unshared).

Earlier today I wondered if most of us grow up in a culture of mediocrity. In school I learned only so much. I rarely felt like teachers pushed me to think in new directions or to explore disparate vantage points. I grew up as a typical white kid, unaware of much of the outside world and completely sucked into the consumer culture that our country heavily endorses. I did not know much about other cultures, nor did I dig down into topics that I thought I understood. I reached out only as far as required and after finding easy success reached no farther. And no one really prodded me to do anymore. Some people feel compelled to take on new situations and absorb unique realms of knowledge, but I did not. I fell into a role and I kept the role. Over time I morphed into new roles, but I never stepped outside the roles enough to realize how similar each was or to wonder what other options might exist. I believe that most of the time public education fails to help people like me who perform well but don't go father: people who could achieve beyond the general level of expectation.

I don’t believe it’s too late to move forward, but I do fear that I am incapable of doing so. What if all of my efforts are for naught and I am one of the doomed who is smart enough to desire to effect change, but not quite together enough to actually effect change.

Portland.

I moved out to Portland a little over a week ago. I’ve basically unearthed most of the necessary nearby locations. This means I know where I can walk my dog, buy groceries, jog, purchase locally farmed produce, acquire ingredients for home-brewed beers, and access roads to take me into and out of the city. I met a few people the other night and can see myself spending time with most of them, and I took time the other day to visit a popular hiking location that offers multiple views of two major waterfalls and many smaller falls upstream from the major attractions. I really like what I’ve seen of the city, both it’s outlying area and the downtown portions, although I only touched the surface of either part. My first night here I ate at a Turkish restaurant in the Hawthorne district, a trendy (think punk rockers meeting indie-style hippies) part of the city. I then, because I didn’t yet have a key to get inside, camped in a tent on the side yard of the house I now live in. Fortunately the police never “knocked” on my tent’s flap.

Earlier today I went to a picnic sponsored by the law school but I didn’t see anyone I have previously met and it seemed like most people were already settled into groups, or had a significant other that allowed them to feel comfortable, and seeing that I didn’t manage to successfully do either and because the event sponsors planned to start various events, like a three-legged race, I decided to leave not too long after I arrived. Such a defeat always burrows into my heart and excavates much of the insides similar to how we often rip into a pumpkin around late-October. And like the metaphorical jack-o-lantern, one can peer into me from bits cut out of the exterior and see the dwindling candle that represents my contentment and confidence. I just don’t handle large events well.

Give me a scene with a few people and I probably will do fine, but once the numbers increase I find it difficult to interact and often end up in a hyper-aware state, perhaps a mini panic attack where I find myself zoning in various details, but not letting my thoughts linger long enough on any detail to rationalize much before erratically switching to another set of details. All the while I feel lost in my brain, aware of everything that concerns me, except the wherewithal to introduce myself, relax, and communicate with others, let alone successfully take in external stimuli.

I’ll feel better in a bit, especially after I take a jog and clear my head out.

After I abandoned the picnic, I walked around the undergraduate campus and then went home, checked the homebrew that I started up last night, and proceeded to read The Idiot for about an hour. There are approximately 150 pages left to read and I hope to finish reading the novel by Monday or Tuesday night and then I can either start some nonfiction that somehow deals with law or involves a related subject. After the jog, I’ll cook some fajitas. It’s a hard life, as the cliché goes.

even vanilla ice could do it

We’re all storytellers. Well, perhaps not the mentally deficient or unbalanced, but the great mass of humanity brims with voices who turn ideas and events into entertaining narratives. We each react to our interpretations, whether we laugh, cringe, or smile in response. We story tell, if only to ourselves, in order to satisfactorily internalize an external stimulus kernel. Some, due to natural talent or practice, can take the process farther and produce better results. And even these people sometimes fall into the common situation where it is easier to tell stories to certain types of listeners over other types. Part of storytelling comes from knowing where the listening party comes from and how this party view the world, with congruent mindsets come cohesive narratives. For it is not effective when one must expend more effort to frame the tale than to tell it. Analogous to the student who attempts to write an essay while attempting to understand the underlying concept, the attempt to understand overshadows the ability to relate. Perhaps those most prone to listen, especially those of similar mindset, also do their part to produce stellar renditions. Which is why we all mostly succeed in self-entertainment, for who is more receptive and more similar to the teller than teller him or herself? When alone I fluently express involved stories with complexity, but when around others I often rush to the end for a dizzying range of reasons: insecurity that the other cares not for my tale, a guilt that my tale takes up too much time, the active mind ponders the other person’s stance and reactions more than that of the actual story, disinterest in the receptive party, ennui with the performance of the said anecdote, and other variations of these story-quashing perturbations.

Quick Lunch

I made a barbecue seitan sandwich with some onion mixed in, and cooked up some frozen veggies to accompany the protein powerhouse.

Yum

Two nights ago I cooked a peanut sauce stir-fry meal, using rice milk instead of coconut milk. The sauce permeated the broccoli, carrots, tofu, crushed peanuts, almonds, and red pepper that I lightly sautéed in olive oil. I’m glad I remembered to photograph the meal. It seems that I think to visually capture about one out of every five time-consumptive meals. I’m glad I remembered to document this one.