Helen Keller Trumps All or I Should Be Studying But Instead...

I'm blogging about the things I'd rather be doing than studying for finals in no particular order.
1. Playing Apples to Apples
2. Playing the flute (jazz, classical, what have you)
3. Shopping for birthday gifts (I'm way behind on my card making too, why does everyone seem to have a birthday on the 14th?)
4. Running (though the ice is certainly a problem...)
5. Reading The Inferno (which I still haven't finished)
6. Pursuing Whole Foods, the grocery, pharmacies, etc. for crafty sodas in interesting flavors (my current favorite is this fizzy french pink lemonade in a glass bottle)
7. Watching mindless television.
8. Watching educational television.
9. Watching Discovery and BBC's Planet Earth for the 18th time. (The deep ocean one is the best, but more on that in a later post)
10. Being Nostalgic ( Disney's Beauty and the Beast is in theaters again, cue the childhood reminiscing)

That's all the procrastination for now, I'll be back after Finals Week.

Eating Animals (Final Post): What Matters

Jonathan Safran Foer's masterpiece Eating Animals is not about being vegetarian or vegan. It is not about being a fanatical PETA member, or shoving animal rights ideals down the throats of your friends and neighbors. No, Eating Animals is about something else. It's about thought. It's about philosophy, how we think and how we feel, and how the creatures we eat think and feel. 

When Foer's Grandmother tells the story of how she survived the Holocaust, she tells of an instance when she was literally starving, about to die, and "a farmer, a Russian, God bless him, he saw [her] condition, and he went into his house and came out with a piece of meat. . ." Foer's response is "He saved your life" and, shockingly his Grandmother continues "I didn't eat it. . . It was pork. I wouldn't eat pork." (Foer's family is Kosher) "But not even to save your life?" asks Foer, bewildered. To which she replied simply, "if nothing matters, there's nothing to save." (17). 

If nothing matters, there's nothing to save. 

Foer began this book to answer a question: "what should I feed my son?" Both Foer and I have decided to keep our families vegetarian. It sounds foolish, to say something so definite so far off, but if and when I do have children, I want them to be compassionate. I want them to be thoughtful. I want them to care. 

I want you to care too. "If we are all serious about ending factory farming, then. . . we know, at least, that this decision will help prevent deforestation, curb global warming, reduce pollution, save oil reserves, lessen the burden on rural America, decrease human rights abuses, improve public health, and help eliminate the most systematic animal abuse in world history" (257). 

You can do that, and more, not just by becoming a vegetarian (though that would solve the problem rather easily), but by purchasing independently farmed meat and searching for safely caught fish, by shunning the cheap n' cruel system of factory farming. Foer (and I) come dangerously close to saying "You alone can change the world!" and I'd like to clarify, you can't. But the lovely thing is, you are not alone. You, the consumer, you have a family, friends, classmates, co-workers. Even if you cannot influence everyone, influence your children. Teach the next generation about the horrors of factory farms, and about the power of the consumer to be a force for good. 

Those cows, chickens, turkeys, fish, crustaceans, and pigs are living, thinking, beautiful examples of life. I've said before how much pigs are like dogs, how they'll nuzzle and fetch, love and be loved. Why play favorites? Why resign ourselves to being cruel to some and kind to others? Isn't it easier to simply show compassion to all? There is a reason the golden rule plays a role in so many religions. It does good, and makes you feel good, all in one. 

Ever lay in bed at night, reliving the events of the day in your head? I do, and I often have regrets. I regret things I said, things I did,  even things I ate (we're talking a strict diet of noodles and bagels that is all my lazy teenage fault). But never, never have I ever regretted my decision to be a vegetarian, nor do I regret talking to people about it. 

Education is a weapon against the evil of the world. If one is ignorant, there is nothing one can do to stop cruelty, corruption, or crimes against the planet. The issues don't exist to many, so they don't matter.  Foer's book was written to find answers, educate, and promote thought.  It has been my goal to do the same with this blog series. 

So, with this final post on Eating Animals, I ask you to think. Think about what you have learned from these posts, about what the nation has yet to learn about its sick habits and unsustainable lifestyle. Think about animals, about suffering, about hope. Think about the planet, the government, your household. Think about what's for dinner tonight and for every night after. Think about eating animals, and then think about not eating animals. Think about love and safety and fresh air and all the things you have that billions of animals do not. 

Think hard about the decisions you make. Educate yourself.  Find out what matters to you and commit to it. 

Because, "if nothing matters, there's nothing to save." 

Le Francais Est Partout!

It was the label on our bulletin board in fourth year french. "Le Francais est Partout," it read, in bold yellow letters, bordered by La Tour Eiffel and the nation's flag. French is everywhere.

Today, it seems the exact opposite is true. French is nowhere, a language reserved for romantics and natives of France. Never mind that international agreements were once written only in French. Forget the famed literary works of french authors (Leroux and Hugo, anyone?), Spanish is the only language you need to know. 

Spanish surrounds us. Our product labels, television stations, advertising, and is being taught earlier and earlier in our schools. It cannot be denied, Spanish is practical. However, it should not eclipse the importance of other languages in the American psyche. We are too closed-minded about languages in America. We learn one, and then expect the rest of the world to speak English. When in reality, as a world superpower, we should be able to communicate with a greater part of the globe. My high school teaches Hebrew, Spanish, French, and now Chinese (a sign that global economics is changing). But where is the Italian? The Greek? The Russian? The German? Even the Latin has disappeared in favor of more "practical" languages. 

Language is beautiful. It is a tool for communication at its simplest level, it is the basis of countless art forms, it is a source of national or international pride. So why place a limit on, or discourage the study of "less practical" languages? 

Doing my laundry this morning, I happened upon a rare and precious discovery. Right in front of me, on the tag of a faded t-shirt, were the words "fabrique en Haiti." Made in Haiti, in French. Underneath this statement was "hecho en Haiti" Made in Haiti, in Spanish. And below that, "Made in Haiti." 

Sure, Spanish is everywhere, and Chinese is growing in popularity. And yes, many countries now make the study of English mandatory for students. But why live life in just one language, or even two? With mass media the world has become smaller and smaller, and now more than ever we are a part of a global community. We need to learn how to communicate with it. 

Eating Animals: The Breaking Point/ Tell Me Why

Its happened. I have been waiting, page after page and it has finally arrived. This book, at once fascinating and blood-curdling, has brought me to my breaking point. This is the danger that arises when one reads something that is as gruesome as it is ruthlessly informative. One learns things that one simply wishes to un-learn. The horror builds and builds until finally...

I can tell you the exact page number. The section: "I Do," page 232, less than a third of the way down. The section is about the cattle slaughter process. It is about the "mistakes", the "accidents" that occur on the kill floor of slaughterhouses across the nation. These are pseudonyms for commonplace events, regularities.
The sickest kinds of torture. Unfathomable cruelty. Vivisection. At one point a cow has been killed (a bolt thrust through her skull, between the eyes), and her unborn baby is half born, struggling to free itself...

Yesterday I asked my class why they ate animals. The immediate response was "'cause they taste good!"A little more discussion, and the answers morphed. "Because it's tradition, it's our culture," some said. Others, "because we were made to eat animals, our ancestors did and so should we." Why does my class eat animals? Because they've been taught to. Eating animals is normal, comfortable, enjoyable. Students called to mind family gatherings, times of joy, centered around a lamb on a spit and more. There is no question, food is an integral part of our culture and history. But in this day and age, and with these practices and corruptions of the way our ancestors ate animals, are we kidding ourselves?

Read the passage about that unborn calf again. What feelings do the images of this and past posts give you? Warmth? Peace? Hardly. Clearly there has been a disconnect between eating animals and what it takes to eat animals.

Yesterday I asked my class why they ate animals. I got my answer:

We eat animals because we are ignorant. We eat animals because we forget the reality of our actions. We eat animals because we were taught to eat animals and any alternative is too alien to consider. We eat animals not because we are cruel, but because we are disconnected.

Eating Animals is not a book for the faint of heart. Nor is it a book for those seeking to blindly uphold their carnivorous or omnivorous lifestyles. This is a book for those who wish to learn the truth. It is suitable for anyone who wishes to make educated decisions about what they support with their money and their consumption. It is a book to facilitate re-connection.

The truth is a harsh thing. It is frightening and nauseating. Yet, the responses of my classmates compel me to keep ingesting the truth in Foer's book. This is not my last post on Eating Animals. I will not lose my connection to the reality of what my family, friends, and classmates are supporting.

Jazzed About Break

No, I'm not going to any exotic locales, ski resorts, or family lakehouses. Instead, this break I get to spend time on a few things that fall to the wayside during school. . .

First, I'm going to heat things up a bit. That's right, I'm finally reading Dante's Inferno.
Second, this break won't mean a thing if it 'aint got that swing. I'm going to work on my jazz improvisation and listen to some good 'ol standards (and maybe some Roy Hargrove too. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxeb0cwjE8U )

And of course I'll be spending quality time with friends and family.
Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, Happy Winter Solstice, and Merry Festivus to all.

Sights Unseen

Every year my high school takes the opportunity to help one organization with a school-wide fundraiser spanning the length of three weeks. We call it School Chest, and have raised thousands upon thousands every year for worthy organizations. This year the beneficiary is Invisible Children, an organization dedicated to ending the violence of the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) in Uganda. The LRA is run by the warlord Joseph Kony, and abducts children from remote villages and towns. The soldiers force the children to murder their families, then brainwash, abuse, and murder the children themselves, all the while training an army of 5-11 year old killers. Ugandan children (and those living in neighboring countries harassed by the LRA) live in a state of constant fear. They flock from their homes to sleep on the floors of city buildings in great heaps, all of them deathly afraid of abduction. They have no supervision, no food, no beds, nothing.

The crisis is ongoing, and the developed world remains in the dark. Invisible Children is a social action group that uses young people's voices to bring the invisible children of Uganda to the forefront of American sight. They lobby, fund raise, and document relentlessly.

One of the major goals of Invisible Children is the prevention of abductions and murders in villages. Their early warning radio network serves to alert villages (who normally have little outside communication) of LRA risks in their area and enables them to call for help. If my high school raises enough money, we could fund a radio tower and save the lives of children and those living in remote communities.

I am intensely impressed with the dedication of the Invisible Children volunteers and with the dedication of my peers to this cause. I believe they deserve every penny that we earn this school chest, and I am proud to be a part of ending the conflict in Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Help make these children visible. Please support school chest and the Invisible Children movement. See the links below for more information on the cause, and for ways to help!

http://invisiblechildren.com/homepage   http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise/ic?fcid=171955

The Pits

There's a certain camaraderie that comes from sitting in the dark, in what is effectively a pen, for roughly 16 hours in one week. It's cramped with metal stands and chairs, with papers and empty water bottles littering the ground, and instruments aiming in every direction. Its too hot or too cold, there's a shattered black light releasing it's fumes into the trumpet section, and a box of cookies has spilled somewhere by the mellophones. It's the pit, and at least twice a year, it's the dining room table, the homework desk, and the band/orchestra room to the many musicians involved in student musical productions.

This past week was STUNTS, the student-orchestrated talent show, which includes sketch comedy, musical theater numbers, original acts like magic and bands, and of course, the pit. We play familiar popular tunes like Day Tripper and the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean and when we're not playing we're watching the show. Again and again and again. Sometimes we're doing our french or calculus homework, or grabbing a quick bite of Chipotle, but most of the time, we're sitting, watching, and waiting for our chance to play. Sometimes, however, the pit comes to the rescue. When an act has a glitch, when technical difficulties arise, the pit is there to play Mah Nah Mah Nah and Baila Me with enough fervor to distract the impatient audience.

Though we may not always receive the appreciation we deserve, the pit is the place to be for any production. It's the best seat in the house, with music, magazines, and cookies, and of course, a whole lot of fun.