The Cross I Bear

It is about 4:30 on Sunday morning, and I cannot sleep. For some reason, I am anxious as an escape con with an illegal immigrant in his backpack. This blog post is more or less a way for me to get out of my head and onto the page.



I feel an incessant pull from the cosmos to save the world, be a creative genius, and be a good friend/ family member. Working hard everyday just to be "myself" is exhausting, and my health is suffering for it. I am not writing this to whine... or maybe I am. Fuck if I know. I need a break from myself. Honestly, I don't know how you put up with me. Christ.

I have learned, though, that I have neglected paying attention to myself. Like today, I was at the gym at 9 pm and was the only one in this room. I decided to do some yoga, and all of a sudden I just got really emotional. everything that had been resting in my joints and my muscles and my head rushed out during my forward fold. I know that sounds so hippie-like and cliche to have a startling epiphany during yoga, but it really happened. I stood up, looked in the mirror, and felt everything that I had hidden from. The pain in my back, the tightness of my breath, and the tears behind my eyes became very real. Today was too much, and yoga, yoda, yogi, yoshi, whoever, told me so. I visited my grandparents in Crossville, TN with my mother, father, brother, and aunt. I had to hide that I was vegan from my grandmother; I ignored that my grandmother used the word nigger; I looked down only on my plate because everyone else around me was eating ham, butter, cheese, eggs, etc.; I ignored that my family is constantly correcting little things I say; I held my tongue 90% of the time on the car trip there even though I wanted to talk about the chicken farm I saw, the poverty I saw, and the dog on a 2 ft. chain outside in the heat with no shade; I did this because no one cares about those things when it's a lovely Saturday afternoon in Bumblefuck, TN where ignorance is bliss and celebrated with ham, sausage, fried chicken, fishing, and mounting the deer head on the mantle all in one day. Wasteful decisions are commonplace and tradition, and tradition is the backbone of this great nation of niggers and meat-eaters, according to the gene pool that I sink in. Snide remarks are Christian and in-line with the word of God when they are against the different- the black, the vegan, the animal. I saw my family dump pipes and and old shit from the yard into a hole in the earth and just bury it there with no remorse for the earth that was being destroyed. I am sick and tired. Literally, sick. Literally, tired. But there is no cure and there is no sleep for the blogging vegan who writes to an audience of one (herself) and a few certain bored people that do not seek to evolve or learn or change, but rather to argue and condemn. They want nothing more than put me on the "cross I bear", hammer nails into my body, and mount the crazy vegan on their mantle to claim victory for God and the American way. Sometimes I just feel like everyone is living the American dream and needs to wake up and see that they're dying, they're killing, and their heads are in the clouds of a heaven that no one seems to agree on. Such vague notions come from dreams, yet in America, the less we know the better. That's why Paris Hilton and George Bush thrive. Dreaming of wealth, dreaming of heaven is fantastic, but when the earth swallows you in volcanoes and ice or the elephant escapes the torture of the circus and stomps you, your SUV, your child, and his happy meal into the ground, you will then know what is meant by returning to the earth. It will sound and feel much less romantic than it does when the preacher sings it to your soul.

Frick............... that was unexpected. It needed to get out of my body. We all have to vent, and blogs are known for their ventilation.


Facts about me:
I am a liberal. I do not believe that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. I do not pray to God. I curse on an hourly basis. I don't trust the government or Wal-Mart (They are pretty much the same thing). I hate when fat people eat at McDonald's. I like to make inappropriate jokes. Painting is more important to me than donating money to Africa. I see myself in the animals I work to save. I believe in human rights, but to a certain extent I fucking hate humans. I can never make a solid decision about the insignificant details of life. My music tastes change daily. I hate the movie RENT. I hate RENT in general. I feel uncomfortable at home. I hate the way I look 75% of the time. I sit down in the shower. When I go to Starbucks I color in the coloring books they provide for little kids. I always forget to put on deodorant. I hate visiting relatives. I think that distinguishing between Democrat and Republican is redundant because they both lead to the same end. I do not believe peace is possible but I think it is the most important fight. I don't think Southpark is funny. I resent many of my friends for not being there for me during some hard times. I don't stand up for myself. People who buy products without considering sweatshop labor or animal testing are absurd and infuriating because it is such a simple and meaningful gesture.



(deep breath)


Genuinely: Happy Sunday! I hope however you spend it- in church, at home, with family, alone, whatever- is how you want to spend it and brings you great joy. Just don't infringe upon my way of spending a vegan Sunday.


Nutritional Info:
100% Daily Value of Vegan Angst