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08 June 2011 @ 08:34 pm
So today I was wondering about vegetables. You know how you're supposed to eat a certain daily serving of fruits and veggies?
First off, how many of us actually eat that amount of produce in a day? Like, ever?
Okay, how many of us eat it consistently?
Probably just health freaks or people with a nutritionist, right? I mean, also some people genuinely enjoy fruits and veggies, so them too.
But most of the time, I bet not even vegans eat enough plants.

Also, does the individual nutritional content of the food count? Like, onions are bad for your joints and they don't have that many vitamins (I think? I might be wrong) what if I ate 12 onions, instead of, let's say, one piece of broccoli. What would be better for me?
Probably neither would even count.
Or legumes. Legumes are not actually a veggie, but do beans count? They're good for you. Do they count?
Should we just make a "beans, nuts, and seeds" section of the food pyramid?

I was also thinking about food you're allergic to, and it's nutritional content vs it's detrimental effect on your body via... your body attacking it? Or um... I don't actually know how allergies work, physiologically speaking. I know I should, my mum's a naturopath and I've been dealing with allergy talk my whole life. I guess I wasn't paying attention because I don't want to feel as guilty eating a big cheesy pizza. I'M GETTING OFF TOPIC. Anyway.
I'm allergic to corn. And I'm pretty sure nutritionally that's not a huge loss, I think corn doesn't do that much for you, mostly it just tastes delicious. But what if I was allergic to kale? And what if it was a mild allergicness like the one I have to corn? Would it be better for me to eat a plate of kale if it was the only vegetable available to me? Or do I want to leave that shit alone?

I have no answers here. Maybe some day I will meet a nutritionist at a party and I will barrage then with questions.
ANYWAY. I am about to eat some pre-frozen mushroom lasagne covered with cheese that I am a allergic to and probably full of corn starch that I am allergic to and all the plants I've eaten today is like half a serving of romaine lettuce, and two strawberries.

oh yeah and even if we did, that shit is expensive. we live in hard economic times, can we please lower prices on food that is actually good for our bodies? we need those nutrients to work our crappy jobs and take care of our sad broke friends and families. seriously.
Current Music: You're the Storm - The Cardigans
26 May 2011 @ 11:03 pm
The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.
— Carl Jung
19 May 2011 @ 03:48 pm
Dreamed that I was pregnant and I didn't know who the father was. It is way too early, by the way, to know if I really am pregnant (My IUD makes it essentially impossible anyway, unless it were a ectopic pregnancy) because my last period was literally about a week ago. But somehow, my mother and I could tell from all of these obscure women-medicine signs that my body was giving off.
I remember that I was going to carry the baby to term and then give it up for adoption, because I somehow knew that it was really special, and I had to let it be born. Not only that, but I had to take really good care of it while I was hosting it. I was really upset that I couldn't have any alcohol or coffee or green or black tea. I was very depressed, because I've never EVER wanted to be pregnant, and there was a chance the father was someone I really really care about who I would never be able to tell, and all I wanted was a cup of tea and I couldn't have one.
At first I was living in a little cabin on the beach with my mother and my sister, and my chosen Hooligan brother and sister, but there were too few rooms and too much tension, so even though I was being cared for by my whole family like some ideal tribe looking after their soiled daughter, I ran away. I went walking down the side of a long highway on hills by a river, and then I caught a bus and rode it, just a little too far, past this huge park. And I ran back down the highway to the park, and I climbed up hilly paths and waited in the playground with the old trees, until my brother came to get me, and said I couldn't live there.
So I tried to run away to California, to Mills college, so I could be pregnant in my amazon community. But the way to Mills was down a long path and through a cave on the beach, and there was a man guarding the path. He touched my hair when I passed him and I turned on him and snapped that I hadn't given him permission to touch me, and he replied snidely that I had obviously already made myself accommodating, and he couldn't be blamed for taking advantage. He made me so angry I shoved him to the ground and stood on his neck, but he got away and he took me to trial, and no one at the trial cared about my side of the story, and they wouldn't let me go anywhere, they wanted to monitor me at all times until I had my baby.
So I ran away to live in the woods alone.

I also dreamed on and off of a tiger spirit in the shape of a human, who was devouring people in their rooms at night. I remember slamming my window closed to keep him out, and the glass was broken and I was trying to push it into place without cutting my hands, the tiger spirit was just a few feet away and I knew the window wouldn't keep him out so I wished myself into another dream.

I was at an aquarium, but it was never technically me, I was viewing it through all of these different points of view, a young man, like an adolescent, and his older brother, and an old man who worked cleaning the aquarium. There were huge translucent fish, like angelfish but almost invisible and as big a person's torso. And strange skinny blue fish which moved by flipping end over end across the tank. There was also a predatory creature in the tank you couldn't see, but occasionally there would be a cloud of blood where another fish had been.
Sometimes in the room, and sometimes standing in the tank, was this very tall man. Unnaturally tall and thin, wearing a suit with tails and a top hat, with a tiny mask on, one that was way too small for someone that tall, and no face emerged from underneath. It was as if the mask and top hat were all that he had, no head at all.
The boy and his older brother were having an argument, and the top-hat man switched them into each-others bodies.
This was when I came into the dream, because I knew the top-hat man, he was a meddler. And I often had to undo his work. I had an ancient stone carving, like a tombstone or an arch over a doorway, with symbols of all sorts off different spirits you could call on, with different powers, some were helpful and some were tricky and some where malevolent, you had to know who to call for what, and what you would have to offer to seek their help, or what tricks you would have to use to get the ill-intentioned ones to do your will.
I called a shapeshifter and it came into my body like a ghost, through my back and the scar on my shoulder, which stung like it was new. The shapeshifter spirit was something like the tiger spirit from my other dream, but more both more familiar and less human at the same time.
I think I'm afraid of getting close to people.
Because I am so nomadic and I'm so unstable and I have no idea what I can offer anyone anymore. Because I can't go part of the way, because I want all the way in, roots in your core, to see you naked and brilliant, dark veined like marble, in all your complexity. And I'm not talking flesh here. I mean to say your soul.
But I'm leaving. Some day. Oregon to California to maybe a different person in five years, a year, two months.
It's hard to get to know new people and it's hard to reach out to old friends because I'm still forming and I don't want to let anyone down or let anyone go.
It is hard enough to leave already, to be anywhere I am missing somewhere else. I am missing the people I leave behind.
I want to promise you eternities. I want to say I will make me a willow cabin at your gate. I will wait for you forever. I will always be here, you can count on me. I am your sworn brother, you are my love. You can call on me.
Writing is hard because I slip in and out of writing letters to you inside of a general narrative. Because I have the audience of everyone, who I call “you”, and then I have my one You, and I can't write these to you anymore. I can't hand you envelopes filled with letters on notebook paper and bunches of lavender and key words like “ivy” and “tiger” clipped out of newspapers.
Current Music: Too little too late - Metric
09 April 2011 @ 04:29 am
Never sleep.
Or sleep all day.
Waste time on the internet.
Is this the life you want to be living?
22 November 2004 @ 12:24 pm
Perhaps I can slip softly into this new skin, eh?