Elite. Its nothing more than a dirty word. People sitting in a country club, cold drinks, big hats, talking stocks and conspiring to run the country. The senator from the great state of Taxachussetts, living off the hard work of the middle class.
The fuss people are getting into over the term elite during this presidential election is absolutely ridiculous, in my opinion. I propose that there are 3 reasons why:
1) Everyone is middle class, so the "elite" are "not like you and me"
2) We equate "elite" with "elitist"
3) To gain any power and run for things like Senate seats or the Presidency, one must ascend to the echelons of the elite.
1) Everyone is Middle Class
This is a concept we discussed in my Feminist Theory course, although I dont remember which theorist or who we read. What I do remember is the concept, which must count for something. What it stated was that some incredible percentage of people believed themselves to be "middle class".... it was something like 70%. This is despite, after polling, their incomes varied incredibly-- from less than $25k/year to over $100k. To me, neither of those figures look particularly "middle class". That looks like a general spectrum of wages from "working class" to "particularly affluent".
There is an article in the Chicago Tribune here that corroborates what I remember specifically from the course. The poll you can take is particularly telling.
So then, if everyone is middle class, then the elite nomenclature is extremely problematic, even if its mostly unfounded. It implies a distinction between "us" and "them" (which I'll talk about more in #2). The 'elite' must be separate and uninterested in what suits 'our' needs. By creating these distinctions, which allows us to distance ourselves and not identify with other groups, we are only creating an unnecessary divide that is not wholly correct and almost entirely useless.
That being said, I think it is extremely important to mention that the whole concept of being "middle class" is based entirely on your surroundings. 'Middle class' for West Haven, CT is different than 'Middle Class' in Reading, MA is different than 'Middle Class' in Appleton, WI. This is important to note, because it means we create such a myopic world view of our own wealth or lack of, and what is normal and what is not.
2)All Elites Are Elitist
I don't know that I can write this post without defining "elite". I don't think I care to, though. The point is that we fear this nebulous, scary, influential specter of elitism. Defining it creates a definite boundary of what is and what is not elite, fencing in what is and is not. Aside from that being completely subjective and based on circumstances, it would enable this fear of an undefinable absolute.
That being said, there is a direct correlation in news reports about candidates being Elites, as though it is a slur. If they are elites, they must be elitist, and must not take the common man seriously. As though all beliefs and actions are predicated on a crazy system of delineation based on tax bracket. By most accounts, John Edwards has ascended to the strata of the elites (this is important later), but no one seems to think of him as such. How is he an elite without being an elite? How is a square not a rectangle? Its because the distinction is entirely baseless and founded on a perhaps contrived perception. And perception creates reality, as we all know.
3)You Have to Ascend to that level
The most striking thing about the whole "elite" brouhaha is that one really HAS to be a so called elite in order to run for office. This means Governors, Senators, high ranking members of the administration. People ascend through the ranks to these levels, circulate in these pools, and then run for office. Your association with this strata of governance makes you an elite, I guess, regardless of your background. Remember John Edwards? Son of a mill worker-- but he's an elite by virtue of his success.
That is perhaps the most frustrating part of this whole thing. People like Barack Obama (and even John McCain and Hillary Clinton, I would argue) legitimately rose through the ranks by virtue of their intellect and tenacity. Their success, regardless of their backgrounds, propelled them to this level. They are still from the kinds of families you and I are from, and one does not simply shed that when you have a title attached to your name.
What is (actually) the most frustrating part is that I would rather have someone who has risen through, who has the skills and qualifications, to be the person running my state/country. I don't want some guy 'just like me' to run the country. I'm not qualified to be president. I'm not even sure I could be mayor of my town. When we elect people who present an air of being the dude from down the street (and thats all presentation, bear this in mind), we get ongoing war, slumping economies, and an erosion of civil liberties. What I find most interesting is that he is the actual elite, in all the examples I have given. He is what the specter of elitism looks like!
My point is that we must look past pretense and presentation to the heart of the candidate and the concern. Who has the brains, who has the right answers, rather than "who presents themselves in a way I like". Arugula never killed anyone--bad choices over 8 years have.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The Power of the Purse
I didn't intend for this to be my "Vegan Starbucks Pre-Grad Student" blog. Of course, it’s inevitable that WOULD be what happened here. After all, I'm writing about the world around me and the things that impact what I'm doing. What blessedly small percentage of our thoughts are not based in our immediate interest and focused on ourselves and our benefit?
Even writing that, it makes me realize that I should really bear that in mind when I judge self involved customers, people on the street, students in class, etc forever. I'm as self interested as you, as self interested as them. I'm sure there is a conversation about the expression of self interest that I'd LOVE to have brewing somewhere inside me, but that’s not my post today. Although, keeping with that theme, I can almost guarantee that it’s going to be based off an entitled Starbucks patron. After all, that is where my self interest lies—or at least, where from where the rent check is born.
Instead, I wanted to talk a little about the power of the purse.
It’s a phrase to which I was most intimately introduced in AP European History, although I will be the first to admit that I do not remember many of the particulars of the course. The concept, though, is that one group can influence another group’s actions by virtue of cash flow. In that context, it involved the levying of taxes exclusively by Parliament, which limited the power of the monarchy. I'll have to get Mrs. Grosshuesch to start reading this and explain further. Perhaps a king suspended parliament in an attempt to gain leverage? Perhaps....? Mrs G, where you at?!
I started thinking about the power of the purse on the train ride home from Boston today. If you could increase the number of commuters between the cities (or surrounding areas) that used the rails, we could lower costs and decrease our dependence on cars. You know, speak with our wallets. Pipe dreams, I guess. But perhaps this is doable? I was just thinking about what it would look like for my [former] faculty adviser to take the train from Newton to Worcester on the 3 or 4 days a week that she works. How many other Elli Crockers are there out there? Maybe she and Tim Murdoch could share a cab to campus from the train station?
This all got me thinking. When I exited the train, my line of sight was straight down the street where I work. The distance between the train station and my Starbucks has been described on more than one occasion as "walkable". So there was a twinge of regret that I couldn't just walk to work from there.
I had parked overnight at the train station, and really, I could have walked to Union Station. I've done it before--its about a 10-15 minute walk. Why had I driven? I think it had been justified with running errands before I left, so that I could have more leisure time to goof off and read CNN.com. And so, I'd have to gas up sooner. That puts money in the pockets of the oil companies, investing in a system that I do not support in principle, but in practice. Oh, $4 gas is still buyable, damn it! 3.99?! A STEAL!
It also made me think about how Worcester is a pretty walkable city for me in the summer. Everything I need is within 3 miles, and that’s less than an hour walk. Before I had my car, that was nothing. I remember walking to my best friend's house one day, for the hell of it, who lived down the beach practically in the next town. Or, in 7th grade, walking 4 miles from school with my bass clarinet. Granted, that happened because I missed the bus. Still though, I had done it.
The simple act of riding the train made me wonder how I'm using my money, and whether I should really put it where my mouth is. So, my goal is to research alternate travel options for the next time I have to get home. How much is a train to New Haven? I know I can just jump the J bus from the Union Station in New Haven and end up on my block. The question is, will I? Will any of us?
Perhaps that is the hidden benefit of rising gas prices: they make other forms of transportation more cost effective than driving. Shelling out bigger bucks for the train, as that begins to equal the cost of a a tank of gas, will help drive down costs in general for train transit, which will (in my mind) drive up train ridership in less urban areas as a method of choice.
The alternate power of the purse, of course, is the power it has over you, and the way we make decisions based on the contents of our wallets, as though that is totally representative of our self interest. For example, the cost of a round trip ticket from Boston to New Haven is $82 on Amtrak, $63 on Peter Pan. It would still only cost me about $40 in gas to drive home. I'll have to do some soul searching next time I want to head back, and try to figure out if maybe I should just find a ride share.
The competing powers of the purse.
Even writing that, it makes me realize that I should really bear that in mind when I judge self involved customers, people on the street, students in class, etc forever. I'm as self interested as you, as self interested as them. I'm sure there is a conversation about the expression of self interest that I'd LOVE to have brewing somewhere inside me, but that’s not my post today. Although, keeping with that theme, I can almost guarantee that it’s going to be based off an entitled Starbucks patron. After all, that is where my self interest lies—or at least, where from where the rent check is born.
Instead, I wanted to talk a little about the power of the purse.
It’s a phrase to which I was most intimately introduced in AP European History, although I will be the first to admit that I do not remember many of the particulars of the course. The concept, though, is that one group can influence another group’s actions by virtue of cash flow. In that context, it involved the levying of taxes exclusively by Parliament, which limited the power of the monarchy. I'll have to get Mrs. Grosshuesch to start reading this and explain further. Perhaps a king suspended parliament in an attempt to gain leverage? Perhaps....? Mrs G, where you at?!
I started thinking about the power of the purse on the train ride home from Boston today. If you could increase the number of commuters between the cities (or surrounding areas) that used the rails, we could lower costs and decrease our dependence on cars. You know, speak with our wallets. Pipe dreams, I guess. But perhaps this is doable? I was just thinking about what it would look like for my [former] faculty adviser to take the train from Newton to Worcester on the 3 or 4 days a week that she works. How many other Elli Crockers are there out there? Maybe she and Tim Murdoch could share a cab to campus from the train station?
This all got me thinking. When I exited the train, my line of sight was straight down the street where I work. The distance between the train station and my Starbucks has been described on more than one occasion as "walkable". So there was a twinge of regret that I couldn't just walk to work from there.
I had parked overnight at the train station, and really, I could have walked to Union Station. I've done it before--its about a 10-15 minute walk. Why had I driven? I think it had been justified with running errands before I left, so that I could have more leisure time to goof off and read CNN.com. And so, I'd have to gas up sooner. That puts money in the pockets of the oil companies, investing in a system that I do not support in principle, but in practice. Oh, $4 gas is still buyable, damn it! 3.99?! A STEAL!
It also made me think about how Worcester is a pretty walkable city for me in the summer. Everything I need is within 3 miles, and that’s less than an hour walk. Before I had my car, that was nothing. I remember walking to my best friend's house one day, for the hell of it, who lived down the beach practically in the next town. Or, in 7th grade, walking 4 miles from school with my bass clarinet. Granted, that happened because I missed the bus. Still though, I had done it.
The simple act of riding the train made me wonder how I'm using my money, and whether I should really put it where my mouth is. So, my goal is to research alternate travel options for the next time I have to get home. How much is a train to New Haven? I know I can just jump the J bus from the Union Station in New Haven and end up on my block. The question is, will I? Will any of us?
Perhaps that is the hidden benefit of rising gas prices: they make other forms of transportation more cost effective than driving. Shelling out bigger bucks for the train, as that begins to equal the cost of a a tank of gas, will help drive down costs in general for train transit, which will (in my mind) drive up train ridership in less urban areas as a method of choice.
The alternate power of the purse, of course, is the power it has over you, and the way we make decisions based on the contents of our wallets, as though that is totally representative of our self interest. For example, the cost of a round trip ticket from Boston to New Haven is $82 on Amtrak, $63 on Peter Pan. It would still only cost me about $40 in gas to drive home. I'll have to do some soul searching next time I want to head back, and try to figure out if maybe I should just find a ride share.
The competing powers of the purse.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Night Before...
To most people, it comes as no surprise that after heavy drinking, my best friends are often my cell phone and my computer. By best friends, of course, I mean the agents of massive embarrassment.
I remember most of what happened last night, so I'm in good shape on that front. I didn't get stabbed, sleep with someone I picked up at Moynihans, or otherwise put my life in danger. I didn't sleep with my roommate or her dog, although there was a period of time where I did crawl up on her bed in a semi seductive way. Things happen. That didn't.
What did happen was that I fixed myself a vodka tonic at home, at which point Jenn says that we're going to the bar. So we head down, have a few beers and play some pool. Its a generally pleasant time. Some other friends come by, and we head over to a booth. The conversation, which I remember as hilarious, involves pornography and asking the married guy we were hanging out with about he and his wife watching porn.
After all this, Jenn and I walked home. When we got there, I fire up my computer-- obviously a good choice-- and so the night really begins.
The thing I'm most proud of is probably when I drunk emailed Hillary Clinton. I'm laughing out loud right now as I type it, because that is just so ridiculous. From what I remember, it was a very sweet note about how she made me want to run for congress. I alluded to the fact that she might run for president again, but it might have just sounded like I was drunk and uninformed. I don't remember, and she hasn't emailed me back. I guess I'm probably safe. Even still, now I know that about myself: that I'm the kind of person who drunk emails Hillary Clinton.
I also know that I texted Mark, my ex from a few years back, asking what kind of pornography we'd watch if we were still together. It was not straight porn, which made me question why we wouldn't have been more adventurous. I think he and I could have gotten into it. This is around the time when someone said "Women never look like they're having a good time in straight porn. When its two girls, they are always having fun". My apologies to Mark-- not only for always doing shit like this, but also for making it seem like I'm not over you. Oh, and for texting you saying that "I want to dutch oven you".
All in all, it wasn't too destructive an evening. I know I've done worse. Although, Hillary Clinton definitely takes the cake. Also, I can't stop typing that as "Hillary Clintron". Like she is a transformer or something.
I remember most of what happened last night, so I'm in good shape on that front. I didn't get stabbed, sleep with someone I picked up at Moynihans, or otherwise put my life in danger. I didn't sleep with my roommate or her dog, although there was a period of time where I did crawl up on her bed in a semi seductive way. Things happen. That didn't.
What did happen was that I fixed myself a vodka tonic at home, at which point Jenn says that we're going to the bar. So we head down, have a few beers and play some pool. Its a generally pleasant time. Some other friends come by, and we head over to a booth. The conversation, which I remember as hilarious, involves pornography and asking the married guy we were hanging out with about he and his wife watching porn.
After all this, Jenn and I walked home. When we got there, I fire up my computer-- obviously a good choice-- and so the night really begins.
The thing I'm most proud of is probably when I drunk emailed Hillary Clinton. I'm laughing out loud right now as I type it, because that is just so ridiculous. From what I remember, it was a very sweet note about how she made me want to run for congress. I alluded to the fact that she might run for president again, but it might have just sounded like I was drunk and uninformed. I don't remember, and she hasn't emailed me back. I guess I'm probably safe. Even still, now I know that about myself: that I'm the kind of person who drunk emails Hillary Clinton.
I also know that I texted Mark, my ex from a few years back, asking what kind of pornography we'd watch if we were still together. It was not straight porn, which made me question why we wouldn't have been more adventurous. I think he and I could have gotten into it. This is around the time when someone said "Women never look like they're having a good time in straight porn. When its two girls, they are always having fun". My apologies to Mark-- not only for always doing shit like this, but also for making it seem like I'm not over you. Oh, and for texting you saying that "I want to dutch oven you".
All in all, it wasn't too destructive an evening. I know I've done worse. Although, Hillary Clinton definitely takes the cake. Also, I can't stop typing that as "Hillary Clintron". Like she is a transformer or something.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Open Letter to Barack Obama
Dear Mr. Obama,
I did not vote for you in the Massachusetts primary. As one of the many ‘jilted Hillary supporters’ who ‘might turn towards McCain’ as our presidential candidate of choice, I feel like you owe me a favor or two. Perhaps you owe me as many as I can list below. After all, my drastically shifting political allegiances just might win you the presidency.
Pick a Damned VP
Yes, I get it. You’re ‘vetting’ your potential second in command. You’re vetting the people who are vetting. You might have even personally vetted those vetters. It has been going on for days, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the other things in my life. Seriously. I haven’t done a load of laundry in a month, because you might announce your candidate. Midnight seems like a perfectly feasible time for you to release your choice—it’s still in time for the 6pm news in Hawaii. MSNBC was running a bracket on potential candidates for the number 2 spot, and I would currently be watching the analysis again for this week if it weren’t for Tim Russert getting vetted from life by a cardiovascular disease. (Too soon?)
Yes, it’s a big choice, but surely you’ve had enough time. My suggestion for this round of fundraisers with Sen. Clinton should proceed as follows: You stage a vaudeville style conversation with Hillary Clinton, trading jabs and jest. It continues on, but softens. One of you starts the song and dance routine, and the other chimes in. There is a little soft shoe, about 3 minutes of song, and then a sign gets lowered from the top of the stage, announcing Obama/Clinton ’08.
If that is too cheesy, might I also suggest a puppet show with General Clark as a smart mouthed ventriloquists dummy, or tape recording the speech you meant to give, lip synched by either John Edwards or Kathleen Sebelius?
At this point in my CNN addiction though, I imagine the only thing that will satisfy me is a performance of “Seasons of Love” by your entire cabinet at the Democratic National Convention. You’re going to play Mark, so I suggest Taye Diggs for Secretary of Defense. Janet Reno can reprise her role as Attorney General—you’re gonna need an Angel.
Tough Leadership
One of the few things that really endeared me to you was that, during the massive primary debates, back when there were 8 or 9 contenders, you made a comment about social programs. You said that you wanted to increase spending for some program, but wanted the American people to have no illusions about the fact that yes, that would require raising taxes. It was so…. Real. It was like looking someone in the face and saying “yeah, we’re going to have to tighten our belts a little to get what we want. So you’re just going to have to suck it up or vote for someone else.” To me, that best summed up your manifesto of change. You addressed the American people like a community with the same ideals who might get together for a charity pot luck to save Social Security.
Something I’ve noticed is that leadership means sometimes painting with a large brush, and often it means dripping paint on the floor. The large brush, though, is What Is Best For The Country. The floor is often people’s personal interests. The paint itself is probably mauve.
Thomas Friedman wrote this article about Bush’s current oil addicted energy ‘policy’. At the bottom he outlines an intensive plan for what might be best for the nation, albeit setting gas prices at a baseline of some god forsaken amount. Is that against my personal interests? Yes. Absolutely. The less money I spend on gas, the more money I can spend on booze. However, it might just be what’s Best For The Country. So I’ll suck it up.
My point, is that you’re going to need to be tough and make some unpopular statements and choices as president. You’re going to have to talk to Ahmadinejad, set a tough energy policy, and maybe keep troops in Iraq longer than you planned. Maybe you’ll redirect a troop surge into Afghanistan and try to stabilize the region and find Osama Bin Laden. Maybe you’ll have to say “you know, the concept of educational accountability is great, but not the way it works right now. We need an overhaul that stimulates students in more than science, reading, and math. You can’t totally quantify critical and creative thinking”.
Other
-Campaign song—Barack Obama f. Tupac: Changes, the Remix
-A solemn vow that you’ll never let your daughters get photographed if they ever look as awkward as Chelsea Clinton
-A B.J. (submitted by Jenn B.)
Now, I’m not saying that I won’t vote for you in November if the following demands are not met, but do you really want to take that chance?
Love,
Michael
I did not vote for you in the Massachusetts primary. As one of the many ‘jilted Hillary supporters’ who ‘might turn towards McCain’ as our presidential candidate of choice, I feel like you owe me a favor or two. Perhaps you owe me as many as I can list below. After all, my drastically shifting political allegiances just might win you the presidency.
Pick a Damned VP
Yes, I get it. You’re ‘vetting’ your potential second in command. You’re vetting the people who are vetting. You might have even personally vetted those vetters. It has been going on for days, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the other things in my life. Seriously. I haven’t done a load of laundry in a month, because you might announce your candidate. Midnight seems like a perfectly feasible time for you to release your choice—it’s still in time for the 6pm news in Hawaii. MSNBC was running a bracket on potential candidates for the number 2 spot, and I would currently be watching the analysis again for this week if it weren’t for Tim Russert getting vetted from life by a cardiovascular disease. (Too soon?)
Yes, it’s a big choice, but surely you’ve had enough time. My suggestion for this round of fundraisers with Sen. Clinton should proceed as follows: You stage a vaudeville style conversation with Hillary Clinton, trading jabs and jest. It continues on, but softens. One of you starts the song and dance routine, and the other chimes in. There is a little soft shoe, about 3 minutes of song, and then a sign gets lowered from the top of the stage, announcing Obama/Clinton ’08.
If that is too cheesy, might I also suggest a puppet show with General Clark as a smart mouthed ventriloquists dummy, or tape recording the speech you meant to give, lip synched by either John Edwards or Kathleen Sebelius?
At this point in my CNN addiction though, I imagine the only thing that will satisfy me is a performance of “Seasons of Love” by your entire cabinet at the Democratic National Convention. You’re going to play Mark, so I suggest Taye Diggs for Secretary of Defense. Janet Reno can reprise her role as Attorney General—you’re gonna need an Angel.
Tough Leadership
One of the few things that really endeared me to you was that, during the massive primary debates, back when there were 8 or 9 contenders, you made a comment about social programs. You said that you wanted to increase spending for some program, but wanted the American people to have no illusions about the fact that yes, that would require raising taxes. It was so…. Real. It was like looking someone in the face and saying “yeah, we’re going to have to tighten our belts a little to get what we want. So you’re just going to have to suck it up or vote for someone else.” To me, that best summed up your manifesto of change. You addressed the American people like a community with the same ideals who might get together for a charity pot luck to save Social Security.
Something I’ve noticed is that leadership means sometimes painting with a large brush, and often it means dripping paint on the floor. The large brush, though, is What Is Best For The Country. The floor is often people’s personal interests. The paint itself is probably mauve.
Thomas Friedman wrote this article about Bush’s current oil addicted energy ‘policy’. At the bottom he outlines an intensive plan for what might be best for the nation, albeit setting gas prices at a baseline of some god forsaken amount. Is that against my personal interests? Yes. Absolutely. The less money I spend on gas, the more money I can spend on booze. However, it might just be what’s Best For The Country. So I’ll suck it up.
My point, is that you’re going to need to be tough and make some unpopular statements and choices as president. You’re going to have to talk to Ahmadinejad, set a tough energy policy, and maybe keep troops in Iraq longer than you planned. Maybe you’ll redirect a troop surge into Afghanistan and try to stabilize the region and find Osama Bin Laden. Maybe you’ll have to say “you know, the concept of educational accountability is great, but not the way it works right now. We need an overhaul that stimulates students in more than science, reading, and math. You can’t totally quantify critical and creative thinking”.
Other
-Campaign song—Barack Obama f. Tupac: Changes, the Remix
-A solemn vow that you’ll never let your daughters get photographed if they ever look as awkward as Chelsea Clinton
-A B.J. (submitted by Jenn B.)
Now, I’m not saying that I won’t vote for you in November if the following demands are not met, but do you really want to take that chance?
Love,
Michael
Friday, June 20, 2008
Am I a Vegan Yet?
For the past few days, I've been trying to phase egg, cheese, and milk out of my life.
Until yesterday, I was pretty convinced that I couldn't do it, for a variety of reasons. Mainly, because I live off milk. America runs on Dunkins, but I run on whole milk iced caramel macchiattos. 2 or 3 a day when I'm working, actually. It is not a beverage, it is a nectar given forth from the gods. Lo, and it is delicious.
Then, there is the issue of sampling food at work. Everything is milky/eggy/has butter in the name, and its been a challenge to not just pick up a slice of that blueberry coffee cake and gulp it down like a goose: no chewing, just straight down to the gullet for digestion.
Most of the problem is the compulsiveness of my snacking at work. Any chips that I've spilled on the counter are an instant fudgy treat. I'll make cream steamers to sample new syrups without thinking. Once I get the treat into my mouth, I think "Shit, milk!" And then its already in my mouth, and I'm not about to spit chocolate chips out in front of customers. Especially because any time I try to spit anything out gracefully, I end up dribbling for a good 30 seconds. Radical.
Compounding this issue is the fact that I am deathly allergic to soy milk. I dont know what it is, but there is something in soy milk that makes my brain fizz over, my sinuses rupture, and my throat grow a thick winter coat of fur. Its not in other soy products, thank god, but just the soy milk. So, that limits my intake of lattes significantly. Significantly, here, meaning to 0.
The past two days, however, have been much different. Something clicked in my head, and I've been more aware of my snacking at work. Part of this is probably just mindfulness. Having those thoughts in my mind, that I need to be aware of food contents has helped curb the habit. Aside from that, I've also started sampling new drinks for work. My favorite so far has been the "Green Tea Americano". Basically, its a green tea latte (matcha powder, pumps of melon syrup, and hot water. Its sweet and green and tastes like a garden of delights.
I've also found stores in the area that carry rice milk, and am discovering the joys of tofutti, a soy based ice cream. By discovering the joys of tofutti, I mean gorging to the point of stomach sickness on this delicious ice creamy dessert.
So, for now, I'm eating up the rest of my milk and cheese and eggs. I'm excited for the day when I don't have animal products in my fridge, and I can start feeling superior to you in a more complete way. :-)
Until yesterday, I was pretty convinced that I couldn't do it, for a variety of reasons. Mainly, because I live off milk. America runs on Dunkins, but I run on whole milk iced caramel macchiattos. 2 or 3 a day when I'm working, actually. It is not a beverage, it is a nectar given forth from the gods. Lo, and it is delicious.
Then, there is the issue of sampling food at work. Everything is milky/eggy/has butter in the name, and its been a challenge to not just pick up a slice of that blueberry coffee cake and gulp it down like a goose: no chewing, just straight down to the gullet for digestion.
Most of the problem is the compulsiveness of my snacking at work. Any chips that I've spilled on the counter are an instant fudgy treat. I'll make cream steamers to sample new syrups without thinking. Once I get the treat into my mouth, I think "Shit, milk!" And then its already in my mouth, and I'm not about to spit chocolate chips out in front of customers. Especially because any time I try to spit anything out gracefully, I end up dribbling for a good 30 seconds. Radical.
Compounding this issue is the fact that I am deathly allergic to soy milk. I dont know what it is, but there is something in soy milk that makes my brain fizz over, my sinuses rupture, and my throat grow a thick winter coat of fur. Its not in other soy products, thank god, but just the soy milk. So, that limits my intake of lattes significantly. Significantly, here, meaning to 0.
The past two days, however, have been much different. Something clicked in my head, and I've been more aware of my snacking at work. Part of this is probably just mindfulness. Having those thoughts in my mind, that I need to be aware of food contents has helped curb the habit. Aside from that, I've also started sampling new drinks for work. My favorite so far has been the "Green Tea Americano". Basically, its a green tea latte (matcha powder, pumps of melon syrup, and hot water. Its sweet and green and tastes like a garden of delights.
I've also found stores in the area that carry rice milk, and am discovering the joys of tofutti, a soy based ice cream. By discovering the joys of tofutti, I mean gorging to the point of stomach sickness on this delicious ice creamy dessert.
So, for now, I'm eating up the rest of my milk and cheese and eggs. I'm excited for the day when I don't have animal products in my fridge, and I can start feeling superior to you in a more complete way. :-)
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
What Does Your Drink Say About You?
The more I work at Starbucks, the more I begin to notice trends in drinks. Certain people order certain drinks. Now, far be it from me to categorize--after all, categorizing is NOT something I'll do here. However, I've noticed that I cannot help but notice class distinctions, knowledge of cafe culture, and they way people want to present themselves based on the beverages they drink.
Some of these categories are unfair, some are extremely judgmental, and most showcase the breadth of my dissatisfaction with what I'm doing this summer. Most of this is just for fun, because obviously you cant put all people into one category. There is, however, a nugget of truth in each of these. So a short list, for your reading pleasure:
Vanilla Latte--Usually 30+ women with some extra money, but don't expect a tip. Generally polished looking, maybe a little impatient. Have kids named Jake and Madison. With non-fat, skinny, or 3 pump drinks, you can almost watch their net income rise.
Bone Dry Cappuccino-- I can tell before they come to the window that my customer is going to be a rail thin woman with loads of extra money. They tend to be really sweet though, even when they send back their drinks. I generally hate high maintainence customers, but bone dry cappuccino people are generally okay types.
Soy Chai Latte-- No one thinks you're cool because you order a drink with soy. In fact, ordering a soy chai makes you sound like a douchebag. I don't know why, and I dont know why all soy drinkers are chai drinkers, but god almighty. Like a horse and cart, they are. The pretense abounds.
--- addendum on soy: Soy happens for legitimate health reasons, choices in eating, etc. Soy doesn't automatically make you a d-bag.
Tea-- Tea drinkers generally know what they want and how they want it, in an unassuming and pleasant way. They don't have a shit ton of pretense about what they're buying, either. Often the same with iced tea drinkers, although that is completely not the case if you get milk in your sweetened iced tea YOU CRAZY SON OF A BITCH.
Black Coffee-- Generally 35+ men, generally lower class (although, its really a classless drink). Generally will tip, probably because they didn't just spend $4 on their beverage. Not a picky crowd, and they keep the lines moving fast. I like them.
Caramel Drinks (non Macchiato)-- I don't know what it is about caramel, but its the favorite of lower class customers. Maybe its the mcdonalds coffee, maybe its the dunkins push with caramel. I dont know. All I know is, caramel is a delicious treat, that most find redonkulously too sweet.
Caramel Macchiato-- This is the "in between" drink. Lots of college students like this, because its sweet without being a frappuccino. Its between a vanilla latte and a caramel drink (see above). Its espresso on the top, so you can choose how you want to drink it. If you're drinking a caramel macchiato, try to do some soul searching and find out who you are.
Some of these categories are unfair, some are extremely judgmental, and most showcase the breadth of my dissatisfaction with what I'm doing this summer. Most of this is just for fun, because obviously you cant put all people into one category. There is, however, a nugget of truth in each of these. So a short list, for your reading pleasure:
Vanilla Latte--Usually 30+ women with some extra money, but don't expect a tip. Generally polished looking, maybe a little impatient. Have kids named Jake and Madison. With non-fat, skinny, or 3 pump drinks, you can almost watch their net income rise.
Bone Dry Cappuccino-- I can tell before they come to the window that my customer is going to be a rail thin woman with loads of extra money. They tend to be really sweet though, even when they send back their drinks. I generally hate high maintainence customers, but bone dry cappuccino people are generally okay types.
Soy Chai Latte-- No one thinks you're cool because you order a drink with soy. In fact, ordering a soy chai makes you sound like a douchebag. I don't know why, and I dont know why all soy drinkers are chai drinkers, but god almighty. Like a horse and cart, they are. The pretense abounds.
--- addendum on soy: Soy happens for legitimate health reasons, choices in eating, etc. Soy doesn't automatically make you a d-bag.
Tea-- Tea drinkers generally know what they want and how they want it, in an unassuming and pleasant way. They don't have a shit ton of pretense about what they're buying, either. Often the same with iced tea drinkers, although that is completely not the case if you get milk in your sweetened iced tea YOU CRAZY SON OF A BITCH.
Black Coffee-- Generally 35+ men, generally lower class (although, its really a classless drink). Generally will tip, probably because they didn't just spend $4 on their beverage. Not a picky crowd, and they keep the lines moving fast. I like them.
Caramel Drinks (non Macchiato)-- I don't know what it is about caramel, but its the favorite of lower class customers. Maybe its the mcdonalds coffee, maybe its the dunkins push with caramel. I dont know. All I know is, caramel is a delicious treat, that most find redonkulously too sweet.
Caramel Macchiato-- This is the "in between" drink. Lots of college students like this, because its sweet without being a frappuccino. Its between a vanilla latte and a caramel drink (see above). Its espresso on the top, so you can choose how you want to drink it. If you're drinking a caramel macchiato, try to do some soul searching and find out who you are.
Monday, June 16, 2008
On Eating Meat, June 16th 2008
For about 15 months, I was a practicing vegetarian.
Let me break down what I mean first, because I think there is a lot to say about my practicing.
When I say practicing, I don't mean how a doctor practices medicine. I mean in the way that I tried. I practiced. It was a way of living, but not a way of life. I generally did not buy or eat meat. If it was served at a family meal (which I attended mainly at special occasions), then I would eat it without remorse. Partially to keep peace with my family, but also as a result of my motives for 'practicing'. Of course, practice makes perfect, and we practice because we are not perfect. I slipped up from time to time, or made conscious decisions in times of stress. After finals my junior year, I planned on and deliberately went to KFC for some breaded chicken deliciousness-- the result of which was particularly disappointing. Who would have thought that KFC tastes like spicy death?
This weekend, I was home for Father's Day. As part of the festivities, we had steak and veggies. I obliged, eating a small serving of steak. On an unrelated aside, it was very close to smaller than the 4 oz. recommended meal sized serving. I didn't feel too badly about it at the time. Reduced usage still reduces the fiscal payback to large farms. I was still mainly vegetarian, and planned on resuming the practice when I came back to Worcester.
Two events occurred over the weekend, though, that reaffirmed my need to avoid meat. They were also potentially enough to help me shake off animal products in general, lest they are certifiably cruelty free. They are, in this order:
1)http://www.chooseveg.com/animal-cruelty.asp
This video is one of the many "factory farms are cruel to animals" films that are out there in the internet ether. I had seen some of the anti-foie gras sites and anti fur videos, but never had I realized the depth and scope of the cruelty involved in products that are relevant to almost everyone's daily life. Our dinners are served on bloody plates: tainted by the wanton cruelty towards animals for profit and our consumption. Even a glass of milk is suspect, and perhaps as terrible as veal. In fact, it enables veal. Pigs, which are intelligent creatures capable of the same kind of cognitive processes of three year olds (according to this site) are disemboweled alive.
I'm put in a tough moral place with this kind of knowledge. Obviously, meat is a part of a human's natural diet... but does engaging in that need at the cruel expense of the animals justify our place in the food chain?
Also, I am deathly allergic to soy milk and have heard rice milk contains known carcinogens. So my moral dilemma also encompasses the question of "what do I put in my coffee and cereal"?
2) Lobster
I was unable to make it home for Mother's day, so I decided to surprise my mother with her favorite meal: Boiled lobster.
Now, again, I try not to eat meat, but generally didn't feel guilty when I did partake. Perhaps that is because there is a distinct emotional disconnect between buying a shapeless slab of meat or piece of bacon, and actually killing your meal to eat. But, like a good son, I boiled the water, set the lobsters up, and dropped them in to their deaths. Unlike some, I did not deprive myself the responsibility of watching the result of my actions. They clearly knew that they were fucked, could feel it, and suffered. As they turned bright red, I felt so extremely guilty. So I put the cover on the top of the pot, and walked into the other room to pet my mother's cats. It struck me that what I had done was in some ways no different than stuffing my cat into the oven for dinner. The only difference was that people don't generally eat cats-- but they do eat crustaceans. Social norms made it okay to boil these bug-fish alive.
I felt terrible for the next eight minutes, then plated them up with what I thought of as a brave resolve. My mother had set the table outside, so we carried the carcasses outside with a side of mashed red potatoes (which I will serve at my wedding, when I find the guy). Rending the tail from the body, I looked inside and saw what appeared to be green sludge. My mother tells me that it meant that both of the lobsters were pregnant. It took a great emotional resolve to choke down the meal... but delicious emotional resolve smothered in real butter.
I'm still feeling a little queasy from the meal, probably from the emotions and not the lobster itself. What I have decided, though, from all this, is that I have a responsibility to reduce/remove animal products from my diet wholly and for better reasons than "it was something fun to try for 15 months".
Let me break down what I mean first, because I think there is a lot to say about my practicing.
When I say practicing, I don't mean how a doctor practices medicine. I mean in the way that I tried. I practiced. It was a way of living, but not a way of life. I generally did not buy or eat meat. If it was served at a family meal (which I attended mainly at special occasions), then I would eat it without remorse. Partially to keep peace with my family, but also as a result of my motives for 'practicing'. Of course, practice makes perfect, and we practice because we are not perfect. I slipped up from time to time, or made conscious decisions in times of stress. After finals my junior year, I planned on and deliberately went to KFC for some breaded chicken deliciousness-- the result of which was particularly disappointing. Who would have thought that KFC tastes like spicy death?
This weekend, I was home for Father's Day. As part of the festivities, we had steak and veggies. I obliged, eating a small serving of steak. On an unrelated aside, it was very close to smaller than the 4 oz. recommended meal sized serving. I didn't feel too badly about it at the time. Reduced usage still reduces the fiscal payback to large farms. I was still mainly vegetarian, and planned on resuming the practice when I came back to Worcester.
Two events occurred over the weekend, though, that reaffirmed my need to avoid meat. They were also potentially enough to help me shake off animal products in general, lest they are certifiably cruelty free. They are, in this order:
1)http://www.chooseveg.com/animal-cruelty.asp
This video is one of the many "factory farms are cruel to animals" films that are out there in the internet ether. I had seen some of the anti-foie gras sites and anti fur videos, but never had I realized the depth and scope of the cruelty involved in products that are relevant to almost everyone's daily life. Our dinners are served on bloody plates: tainted by the wanton cruelty towards animals for profit and our consumption. Even a glass of milk is suspect, and perhaps as terrible as veal. In fact, it enables veal. Pigs, which are intelligent creatures capable of the same kind of cognitive processes of three year olds (according to this site) are disemboweled alive.
I'm put in a tough moral place with this kind of knowledge. Obviously, meat is a part of a human's natural diet... but does engaging in that need at the cruel expense of the animals justify our place in the food chain?
Also, I am deathly allergic to soy milk and have heard rice milk contains known carcinogens. So my moral dilemma also encompasses the question of "what do I put in my coffee and cereal"?
2) Lobster
I was unable to make it home for Mother's day, so I decided to surprise my mother with her favorite meal: Boiled lobster.
Now, again, I try not to eat meat, but generally didn't feel guilty when I did partake. Perhaps that is because there is a distinct emotional disconnect between buying a shapeless slab of meat or piece of bacon, and actually killing your meal to eat. But, like a good son, I boiled the water, set the lobsters up, and dropped them in to their deaths. Unlike some, I did not deprive myself the responsibility of watching the result of my actions. They clearly knew that they were fucked, could feel it, and suffered. As they turned bright red, I felt so extremely guilty. So I put the cover on the top of the pot, and walked into the other room to pet my mother's cats. It struck me that what I had done was in some ways no different than stuffing my cat into the oven for dinner. The only difference was that people don't generally eat cats-- but they do eat crustaceans. Social norms made it okay to boil these bug-fish alive.
I felt terrible for the next eight minutes, then plated them up with what I thought of as a brave resolve. My mother had set the table outside, so we carried the carcasses outside with a side of mashed red potatoes (which I will serve at my wedding, when I find the guy). Rending the tail from the body, I looked inside and saw what appeared to be green sludge. My mother tells me that it meant that both of the lobsters were pregnant. It took a great emotional resolve to choke down the meal... but delicious emotional resolve smothered in real butter.
I'm still feeling a little queasy from the meal, probably from the emotions and not the lobster itself. What I have decided, though, from all this, is that I have a responsibility to reduce/remove animal products from my diet wholly and for better reasons than "it was something fun to try for 15 months".
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