Blogs and Animals are Finally Running Again...

Okay, okay. I've been blogstipated. Blame it on the bananas in my life.
In situations like that, the best thing to get things flowing again can
be a few good dates. And here I am again.

Last week I was busy (to say the least) with working on events around Gene Baur's
new book, Farm Sanctuary:
Changing Hearts and Minds about Animals and Food. This book
tells the story of how Farm Sanctuary began.
It was funded by selling tofu dogs at Grateful Dead concerts, and was
run from an oldschool bus . Gene was a visionary hippie then (well,
okay, he still is), and his crazy new idea became the farm animal
protection movement. Now, Farm Sanctuary has 2 sanctuaries--one in
Watkins Glen, NY, and the other in Orland, California. In addition to
providing rescue and rehabilitation for farmed animals who would
otherwise be sent to slaughter, Farm Sanctuary advocates on a national
level--providing education and outreach, and working to pass laws to
protect these animals. I am lucky enough to be the outreach coordinator
based in NYC. I say to myself every day: I cannot imagine doing
anything else.

My 83-year-old Grandma, along with my mother
and step-father, went to one of Gene's book-signings in NJ. My grandma
bought the book and said to me later that she wants to read it so she
can understand what I'm so passionate about. She was merely a few pages
in when she called me and said "I understand what you're so passionate
about! I'm going to telleveryone about this..."

My favorite
part of the book are the animal stories, which conclude every chapter.
They tell the individual stories of the animals who wind up at the
farm--their story, their escape, their survival, and their quirks and
charms.

At all events last week, the book sold out. I think
that Farm Sanctuary: Changing Hearts and Minds about Animals and Food,
has the potential to change the world.

In other news...my tooth hurts. I loathe the dentist. I hate the dentist. I abhor
the dentist. I don't understand what I have done in my life to deserve
the emotional and physical trauma of sitting in that chair with rubber
gloves in my mouth, the sound of drilling and buzzing permeating my
ears. (MyPrivilege -Watch Voice now says: Shut up, Jasmin! Look at how
lucky you are going to the dentist! My Martyr Voice responds: YOU shut
up! I want to complain!)

I have this theory that since we have to be subjected to the dentist anyway, why not do it at the same time as the gyno?
Get it all through in one go. One doctor at one end, the other doctor
at the other. And for fun, we can also get a manicure at the same time,
just to distract us slightly.

I mean, why not?

"We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks."

Did anyone see the total eclipse of the moon last night**? The moon radiated a hot pink that was reminiscent of my mid-80's wardrobe. It affected me much more than I had anticipated. It reminded me that we are really such peons in this universe, yet at the same time I felt like the universe was so teeny-tiny and we were all huge invasive monsters. I often have bi-polar thoughts like that...co-existing feelings that everything is so big and so small. And I don't even do drugs.

I called my mother when I saw the eclipse, urging her to go outside and look at it for herself, but she whined "I'm in bed!" Then I called my 83-year-old grandma, who rushed outta bed in order to see it. If you're ever having a bad day, call my grandma. She's just...outstanding. She's even better than a total eclipse of the moon.

Remember Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart? As I type, I am singing that song out loud. If someone had a video camera, my career and reputation could be ruined in one single youtube hit. You have to look at the lyrics to this song now and sing it out loud...it's your homework. Watch yourself in your bathroom mirror belting out "forever's gonna start tonight". Let me know what you discover about yourself.

Ah yes, Meatloaf days. I think I'll start a band. I'll call it Lentil Loaf.

Speaking of lentils, pick up the March/April issue of VegNews. Not only do I have an article in it on the subject of activist burnout, but M has a quotable, and Rose makes a cameo!

Quote of the day: (from an audience member at a recent activism workshop) "I am not vegan, but I know I'm doing something wrong."



**Jasmin's dumb thing of yesterday: During the eclipse, I proclaimed that astrologers must be so excited. Eclipses are big days for astrologers.

(Oy, jasmin, jasmin...)

Bob backwards is still Bob

I got the idea of posting the article I'm about to talk about from my friend Isa (okay, I stole it from her without asking). Bob Barker has just donated a million bucks to his alma mater so that they can start an undergrad animal-ethics program. Is that the coolest thing?

The fact that the story I'm about to tell you about Bob Barker is my all-time FAVORITE Bob Barker story (not that I have many) is going to surely reserve my feminist self a spot in hell. My BFF's partner, "D", was in a hotel room with Barker--not as scandalous as it sounds. D is an animal rights lawyer and was at some conference with Bob. He asked Bob if Marisa could meet him since she's such a big fan. Bob asked how old she was, to which D responded "27." Bob said (I'm not kidding!) "tell her to COME ON DOWN!"

In other news, there is nothing more comfortable than my big ol' blue sweatshirt I've had since I was 16. I can't believe I was EVER 16.

Tomorrow night...

blues that blame february

I don't think I've lost my mojo. I often think, today I'm going to blog. I do have a lot to say... but often, my thoughts are disjointed. I could write about how every February is difficult for me (last year being the all-time worst) and yet, I'm never quite sure if it's February's fault for giving me the blues, or the blues that blame February.

It's so cold out, and (finally) snowy. I think New York is so pretty when it's under a thin blanket of white, and I usually don't mind the sensation of nearly slipping on the ice with every step. Yet tonight, I felt so afraid falling, and as I took tiny steps down the huge hill that leads to my apartment, everyone else fearlessly flew by me. They held Whole Foods bags and small children. I held my torn turquoise bag and a copy of Slaughterhouse. I also held my notion of February.

Tonight, M and I had dinner with our darling friend who we'll call Dezz--one of those people who come across your life and you know that they're there to stay. We went to Red Bamboo and ate the most delicious mock meat you'll ever eat. Last month, we went there with my brother--a hard-core flesh eater--and he was floored by the soul chicken. I felt like I'd done my good deed that day.

Today I worked hard (which always makes me feel a little better) and then I watched 15 minutes of a ludicrous television show on Bravo, which M mysteriously receives all of a sudden. It was about a millionaire match-making service who links up absurdly wealthy men with insanely beautiful women. After sitting, mouth agape, in front of the TV watching slimy girls throw themselves on appearance-obsessed men, I thanked my lucky stars that I'm rough around the edges--and that I'm gay.

Coming home today, I was met with an unfortunate letter from a certain estranged someone with whom I don't care to correspond. The letter sits unopened to my left at this desk, and despite feeling antsy about it, and frustrated, I also feel surprisingly empty.

Yet I also feel February.

Still, in all this self-induced gloom, I am so looking forward to seeing a Rufus Wainwfight concert this Thursday.

I just think he's the cat's meow.

unnecessary dislcaimer

Oy vey. I just reread my last entry and though I'm not going to delete it because for all intents and purposes, it is entirely honest...but I do feel slightly embarrassed and that I am coming across as holier-than-thou or small-minded. I know very well that in the process of all the bigotry that has (and still does) PARTLY shaped our society, there has been (and still is) lots of truly phenominal people who have made history, herstory...

Nor do I claim to be anything other than a flawed human being.

Note to self: It ain't that deep. Not always, anyway.

wednesday rant

I used to have nightmares that my hands were being chopped off. So you can imagine my horror when I was trying to be a good girl and learn my history (since I seem to have been radically unschooled in certain areas, despite the fact that I went to graduate school) and I learned about how Columbus chopped off the hands of his slaves--the American Indians who had been so welcoming--when they didn't meet their duty of finding enough gold.

Cheery reading for a subway--Jeez!! I wanted to yell to everyone on the A train what I was reading. "Did you know that Columbus was evil?" But alas, I didn't. I remember when I learned about the horrors of factory farming, I also wanted to tell everyone I knew (and in fact, I try to do just that).

What is the difference between Indians being enslaved and having their hands chopped off, and factory farmed birds being enslaved and having their toes and beaks chopped off?

What is most staggering is how short it has all been. New York City, for example, is 350 years old--that's only 4 lifetimes, potentially. Much like the country, we are also a city that was built on theft and discrimination. And oh how history repeats itself.

Yet I have hope knowing that people are capable of change, and in many respects, we are all fairly new inhabitants to this world. So maybe we are still trying to figure it out. Maybe there's hope yet.

I don't believe that people are inherently bad--I like to believe they are good. I'm not *that* jaded. And I want very much to live my life with a greater purpose, as opposed to only happiness being the core of my existence. During the process, I'd like to savor the happiness that comes. But that's not the point. It's not my point anyway.

Please don't misinterpret this as me being depressed or sour. I don't feel I am either. Well, maybe that's not true...maybe I'm a little of each. But I'm also optimistic (that's what my doorman tells me). And I'm funny (that's my shrink says).

No Icing, No Cake

I wanted to begin this blog entry by saying that I'm hungry and there is
nothing to eat in this apartment, but that's not true...at least, the
latter is not. I have grains and pasta and chick peas and rye bread and
frozen spinach and berries. There is a lot I have in my apartment to
eat, but what I'm really craving is a cupcake from Snice. And as I almost started this blog entry by writing that and then veering off onto another subject, like the subject of the all-important cupcake or
the even more vital icing, I was reminded of a panel discussion I
attended yesterday at Cardozo Law School on the subject of food policy.


So much of my life revolves around animal rights, and mostly,
the non-human animal variety. I advocate, I write, I do my best to
listen, and I fight. (And sometimes I rhyme by accident.) I'm
traumatized and angry, but I'm also empowered and, in many ways, happy. Okay, that's not really true...I can't exactly be HAPPY when I know what I
know (I said the other day that the key to happiness is ignorance), but
I am fairly contented and have moments of happiness. The statistics of animal oppression are so big that there are no words to describe it. 10 billion land animals in the US will be killed this year for food. I can't even conceptualize that number, to be honest. All I know is that like most people who are open enough to learn the truth of how their choices affect other beings, they can't not do something. It's not virtuous or noble--it's obvious.

And when people yell at us during demos that there is a war going on and
why are we screaming about duck livers, or that they are first and
foremost concerned with human rights, we remind them that it is not an either/or, and that animal rights include human rights--both in direct ways (slaughterhouse workers are amongst the most abused and abusive workers out there) and in indirect ways (oppression of one kind leads
to oppression of another--see "Coming Out for Animal Rights").

So why did I not realize what is going on under my nose in the city I live in, on the very island where I crave a Snice cupcake and claim to have no food in my fridge when that is a lie that lucky people like myself tell ourselves in our blinder moments?

According to City Harvest:

1.5 million New Yorkers currently live in poverty*, struggling to afford basic necessities such as rent and medical care and put food on their tables.

Of those living in poverty, more than one million rely on emergency food at some point during the year.**

Of the more than one million New Yorkers who rely on emergency food:

34% have had to choose between food or paying their rent
34% have had to choose between food or paying their utilities
22% have had to choose between food or medical care.**

* Data from the U.S. Census Bureau.
**Data from "Hunger in America 2006: The New York City and New York State Report."

And according to Just Food:

New York City's soup kitchens and food pantries fed 45% more people in 2002 than in 2000. In 2003, 1.6 million New Yorkers will turn again to these
emergency food sources. That's one in five NYC residents.

I'm sitting here at my computer trying to come up with what I want to say, but in all honesty, I don't know what to say. There were other statistics given too, such as obesity rates being double in poverty-stricken areas of the inner-city
("dietary racism," according to Dr.Milton Mills).

Yet when my BFF, Marisa Miller Wolfson, Outreach Coordinator for Global Green Foundation and a smart and sassy panelist yesterday, talked about the obvious (albeit underspoken)link between animal agriculture and global warming (commodification of our planet!), nobody said anything. The other panelists (and leaders in environmental activism) focused instead largely on local and organic. (Yes, yes, that's important too...)

Animal agriculture is entirely unsustainable. On the front page of this past Sunday's NY Times Weekend Review, the article, Rethinking the Meat Guzzler,laid it on the line:

Though some 800 million people on the planet now suffer from hunger or malnutrition, the majority of corn and soy grown in the world feeds cattle, pigs and chickens. This despite the inherent inefficiencies: about two to five times more grain is required to produce the same amount of calories through livestock as through direct grain consumption, according to Rosamond Naylor , an associate professor of economics at Stanford University. It is as much as 10 times more in the case of grain-fed beef in the United States.

An audience-member at yesterday's discussion said that she was vegetarian,
but was from a middle-state where animal agriculture basically employs
every resident, and what would happen to them if--poof!--factory farming
was no more? Marisa said that she understands that concern, but it is
not a black or white issue...like all movements (including slavery), it
will be gradual, and as the demand drops in one area, the demand of
other areas will rise, and so too will employment.

The other panelists continued to talk about transportation, and how if NYC lost its bridges and tunnels, we would lose our food supply within 8 days--that's how reliant we are, that's how unsustainable this all is.

Maybe we should stop creating a demand for animal foods, and eventually there will be so much more land to feed those who are starving, those who really don't have food in their fridges. Dietary racism is just one example of oppression feeding oppression.

Everything is animal rights. Everything.

OBVIOUSLY there are a million other issues involved in what I am saying here. I do not claim to have all of the answers. But I KNOW that many of these problems could be significantly lessened by going vegan.

Now I have to do my homework. For me, ignorance is not blissful--it's annoying and damaging.