Showing posts with label grumpy old man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grumpy old man. Show all posts

Friday, November 2, 2012

How I Became a Vegetarian


It was the kind of careless thing that gets said when you think the said thing will never amount anything. Like election campaign gusto, no one is going to fact check so you might as well sound self-assured as possible. This was idle conversation at a bar and would never be remembered if it wasn’t so hard for me to forget.
 
It was my birthday and we had just finished another day long drink fest following an evening of same. Today’s event was a fundraiser, something called Beers for Beasts, held by a local craft brewery. Brewed were dozens of special-batch beers and you’d have access to them for a price. The proceeds went to a charity protecting abused or neglected animals.  At mid-thirty this is how I have been reduced to caring about and caring for the world.  Paying a small sum that comes paired with small gratification (see: beer, craft).    

We were carrying on when we came to discussion of my wife’s family.  It was a sorting of who was who, how many sisters, how we spend holidays, an accounting of where people lived.  I’ve known my wife’s younger sister since she was nine.  In a lot of ways we are as close as siblings by blood (my own sister is just two years my junior). I am certainly more protective of my youngest sister-in-law.  We mentioned that her youngest sister had a boyfriend named Ravi and when asked if I liked him I said, “Yes of course. He’s a little naïve though.”

+++

Ravi and I probably spent a cumulative 100 hours together.  He is a fantastic listener, which is an odd thing for a man his age.  When we lost him to the sea in Costa Rica he was a long 19 years, and had the sort of intelligence and confidence you would expect to translate into mouth-running.  Not so. During our too few conversations the role of motor mouthed know-it-all was left to me.  Desperately seeking to prove my age, experience, and tout-le-monde savvy that comes with being a happy well-adjusted adult.
Ravi reminded me of myself at that age, or rather, what I wish I was at that age.  He worked hard at foreign language.  He was an EMT at school, and at home.  He didn’t just want to be a doctor. He wanted to be a doctor that helped the poorest of the poor.  He wanted to re-invent medicine by understanding every aspect of it.

While he was with us I found his ambition and hope exhausting, and this completely embarrasses me.  Ravi looked for opportunities to stand up for what he wanted and believed in; I spend almost all my time now looking for a place to sit down.

And I think I keep a pretty good pace for a person my age.  I work 50 hours a week reshaping energy consumption to what I sincerely believe the only way forward.  I fight heart disease and alcoholism -- in myself -- by exercising 15 hours a week.  I sit on three boards, two clean energy industry boards and the board of our local triathlon club.  I am a member of the Park Slope Food Coop; but only because my wife forces me.

And all of this makes me tired.  I rarely make calls to family and friends unless circumstance forces me.  I am not one for visits and I check email and twitter too much.  I chalk up my 50 hours of clean energy work, volunteer positions, and 60 miles of running a week to, “Enough. I’m tired. Fuck off.”
How could one, anyone, keep this pace up? All this goddamned thinking and doing.

+++

The last thing I remember Ravi sharing on facebook was “Can’t believe I am officially a junior. Time goes by so fast.”  In fact it does.  The distance between yesterday and tomorrow has shrunk. How do we find a way to capture this time?  To slow it down and draw meaning from our time, before saying next?  How do we get all the things done to make ourselves be the person we hope to be, without missing the point of becoming that person?

I have been a vegetarian off and on, but mostly off, since I was old enough to make the choice for myself.  The problem I have had in the last few years is how dang hard it seems. How do you explain this to your family? What about thanksgiving? What about protein? Isn’t it hard and inconvenient?  All this is bull shit, of course. We have so much food that this, the having of the too much food, is now our number one health problem.  Think about this.  Over all history we – humans – have struggled to find enough food.  I mean, really struggled.  Entire tribes, whipped out from famine. Rwanda was a particular kind of evil, but at its core it was about a bunch of people having resources, and another bunch not.  Yet, the crisis we face today, in America at least, is that we eat too much food, and too much terrible food.  Cancer and heart disease, number two and number one can be directly linked to our diets. 

And yet, nearly all people wonder about my health when I disclose that I am vegetarian.  And this is the real reason I have had trouble sticking to this commitment.  I hate making other people feel uncomfortable, and never more so than when they are uncomfortable with me.

+++

Ravi was lost vigorously trying to save a friend caught in a current.  You could make the argument that, if he thought about himself just a little bit more then he might be with us today.  But then, he wouldn’t really be with us, would he?  Something like him would be physically represented, sure, but him. Not the guy who made me think at mid-thirty, “Am I doing this right?”

The real tragedy of losing someone so young, with so much promise, is that there is a sense of hope unfulfilled.  What would their kids have been? How would his profession turned out? What a fine wedding that would be!

And these are all tremendously sad in the case of Ravi.  He was a beloved friend, who many, many, many people counted on for advice, and laughter, and love.  But what we gain from a life lived as well as Ravi -- at a third of the way to 100 years I feel pretty safe in saying he lived a fuller life than many people I know -- is the ability to make ourselves better by spreading pieces of him across the planet and across time. 

And this is how I came to be a vegetarian for good.  Ravi was a committed vegetarian who ate some fish and was careful to state that’d he’d eat some meat for invited meals when there was no other option.  This meant that at every meal he had a chance to think about what he was eating and what that food meant to the people and place around him.  He never backed away.  He explained it without making you feel bad about yourself, and without compromising his choice. 

Yes, it can be exhausting to think forward, with so much hope and gusto as Ravi did.  But having this personal monument, the choice of vegetarianism, helps me. I am vegetarian for all the very good reasons I tried to be one before.  And Ravi showed me how to get there.

I’ve never been healthier. I think it is making me and the planet stronger.  Feel free to call me a little naïve.  

Friday, October 14, 2011

Just for you: Clarity from Red Sox Nation, where ever that may be

Just for you -- internet curiosities that make the world a better place.

Here is word from Michael Schur, the voice behind Ken Tremendous of Partridge, KS.  It is clear.  It is sound. It's what we have come to expect, and it makes me feel small.

The Collapse of the Red Sox: The Bad Old Days are Here Again

Here's the opening greatness.  After going through a few questions as to what this whole scene looks like if the Red Sox win just two more games, he arrives at --
We know the answer, actually. Bob Hohler's Boston Globe article probably isn't written, or if it is, it's one-fifth as long and entirely ignored, because: Who cares? 
Damn fucking straight, who cares.  I'll tell you who fucking care, the Ghostfaces who want their ghosts back.  Fuck WAR and VORP, y'all. GHOSTS!  That's the shit that kept us from winning.

Sigh.

Here is some evidence that the bad old days are here again.  People in and around Boston are calling for the trade of Jon Lester.

Jon. Lester.  Let's forget, for the moment, that trading this guy runs counter to the popular narrative  (he beat cancer, he's a hero vs. trade him, he likes video games. You can't have it both ways, folks).

Jon Lester is signed through 2013 at 5 years $30M, with a 2014 club option.  The next 3yrs years look like this:

12:$7.625M, 13:$11.625M, 14:$13M club option 

Cliff Lee is signed at 5/$120M, his next 3 yrs:


 12:$21.5M, 13:$25M, 14:$25M

You can wander over fangraphs and see that Lee has been worth about a win or two more a year since 2008, and that is no small thing.  But he is also 6 years older than Jon Lester.

My point? Stop being assholes!



Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Family Time

5 things that probably SHOULDN'T come in "family size" packaging

1. Tampons
2. Petroleum Jelly
3. Clearasil
4. Oreos
5. Flunitrazepam

Advice For NY -- Living your best life in the big shitty

* If you own a vehicle that makes noise when you back up, you need to be less cavalier about backing up.

* Once upon a time, the mayor proposed a car alarm ban in NYC.  I didn't think this was quite right.  Rather than criminalize car alarms, I felt he should simply DE-criminalize taking baseball bats to cars with car alarms.

* Seriously, you smell.  None of your friends has the heart to say it.  But you do.

* Just the thought of trying to orchestrate some travel outside your borders gave me stress.  I canceled said travel as a result.  You should think about being less needy.

Friday, August 19, 2011

10% irr


Here is what was going outside my bedroom window at 6:30 am this morning.

In my professional life I spend a lot of time en tango with the utility. They make "their case" and I make mine. When they go home they don't have to deal with me, yet I have to deal with them. Their model, and their arguments drive me absolutely insane.

They run the largest (and perfectly legal) monopoly in the united states. They are pretty much guaranteed a rate of return. They certainly act like it.

Exhibit A. Our street right out side our apartment window got the old jackhammer/backhoe treatment starting yesterday. Zero notice was given about this.

Exhibit B. When my wife returned home from work yesterday, one of the workers was sprawled out on our stoop. Sure its hot. And he's tired. My wife being a pretty agreeable gal actually said, "Sorry" as she approached. She reports: he sort of lazily got up and moved with an eye roll.

Exhibit C. Today's digging started at 6:30am!

Exhibit D. My electrical utility had been billing us on an average meter. Fair enough. They came and read the thing -shocker- they forgot to charge us around $50. And wouldn't you know it, they want that right away. So, having already paid my bill, they would like $50 more dollars immediately.

My utility bill, for electrical services, is around $50 a month. Of this bill $0.62 is for renewable portfolio standard programs. That's roughly 1%. My $50 forgot to charge you fee is 10% of my yearly electricity bill. I pay more money to my utility in accounting errors than I do to get (a very meager amount of) renewable energy onto our electricity grid.

Very often, when I am doing my work, I get the refrain, "We love renewables. We just don't want them funded on the backs of our rate payers."

Of course not, what with getting rattled out of bed at 6:30 am, our backs couldn't possibly take much more stress.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

scared for america

What has me scared for america?

Debt ceiling debate?
10% unemployment?
Two (seemingly) endless wars we now refuse to pay for?

No. It's this -- https://pastaboat.com/

Every time you ask me, "Shaun, what do you think of genital mutilation?" Every single time I am going to answer, "That is horrible and terrible and should be banned. ALWAYS."

But, if you can't make fucking pasta, that should be grounds for society placing restrictions on you to procreate. Period. End game.

I am totally fine if the recent turmoil in Ingerland is because people just found out that the pasta boat exists.

"What?!? Pasta boat? The fuckall is dat? You 'ere dat Nigel, feckin pasta boat!? Feckin' yanks. Let's burn it all!"

In related news -- triathlon, HOW DEAD WILL IT MAKE YOU!?!