3 months vegan & why I’m sorry

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I don’t want to start this blog post by saying “I have been vegan for 3 months”. I ate almost a whole bag of prawn crackers that came free with an (otherwise vegan) Chinese takeaway in a moment of madness during my October time-of-the-month. That is just one of a few slip-ups. Although I am researching and investing in cruelty-free products, I am still using the make-up I own from Benefit Cosmetics (who test on animals, click here to check whether your brands do too) and wearing old, woollen jumpers (although not ‘harmed’ in the shearing process, sheep are bred and enslaved to provide products for humans and then sent to the slaughter). There are some ridiculous ingredients like Acetylated Lanolin Ricinoleate, Desamidocollagen and many more that come from animals and mean nothing to me when I check the back of food packages (I’ve just googled them to make my point). Who knows how close I actually am to actually achieving veganism.

vegan definition

As I explained in a previous blog post, I chose the vegan lifestyle for health reasons first, the social and environmental implications of the meat & dairy industries second, and for the support of animal rights third. The more that I read and learn, the more these intertwine in my head in to one, impenetrable reason to continue with this change. If anyone would like me to write in more detail about these 3 reasons to go vegan, please let me know. I understand that the majority of people that choose these lifestyles are doing so to support animal rights beyond anything else, which I totally support and am starting to open up to more over time. Anyway, back to my point.

My god, it’s tiring. And do you know what makes the whole thing so much more difficult? People casting their judgement on you and your lifestyle and making you feel like you aren’t a ‘real’ [insert lifestyle choice here]. This is something that I am massively guilty of in the past. There was a girl I used to be friends with before I decided to ‘go vegan’ who called herself a vegetarian in that she chose not to eat meat or fish. She was extremely educated and passionate about her lifestyle and would get quite riled up when expressing her point if we were to ever talk about animal rights. However, she openly admitted to eating gelatine (found in lots of sweets and cakes) despite being aware that it is a protein obtained through the boiling of skin, tendons, ligaments or bones from cattle. She had no argument for this and expressed her admiration for the vegan lifestyle often, explaining that it would be “too difficult” for her to give up dairy products such as cheese and milk, regardless of what the farm animals were put through to produce it. In an unrelated argument that ended our friendship, I sent an awful text to this girl telling her that she was a hypocrite who couldn’t possibly stand for animal rights, and was simply trying to come across as compassionate in order to boost her ego.

label8I regret that text for so many reasons, but mainly because I have realised that a change in lifestyle is about intention rather than perfection. If a person wants to make a stand for animal rights based on their own values and beliefs, a change in diet for example is a step in the right direction for them. At least this girl was doing something, you know? And that is admirable, I realise this now. It is very difficult to give up meat in a western society where it is constantly promoted. So kudos to her, and all the other vegetarians that I have most likely offended in the past. You are all making positive change. It’s very similar to the pacifism or communism argument people have. “Well it’s a nice idea in theory, but it won’t actually happen and I can’t make a difference“. If we all have the attitude that our contribution to change, however small, won’t mean anything, then of course we won’t move forward as a society! Anyone that has made an active choice to change something about their lifestyle, be it choosing not to purchase products from Nestlé (click here to read why) or having a reusable water bottle instead of buying plastic ones (click here to read why) is making a positive change. If you want to stand for what is right for you, do something, ANYTHING to take action! (This does not mean that I condone Hitler’s fascism and mass-murder, father. Honestly, the shit I get).

I suppose this blog post is a sort of tail-between-my-legs apology. The girl I mentioned isn’t the only person who I have attacked for their beliefs. I remember being steaming drunk one night recently and lecturing a random vegetarian guy I had met about 10 minutes before with something along the lines of: “I don’t get vegetarians. If you care about animals, why would you consume dairy products that are produced by putting animals through absolute torture? An animal being slaughtered and served in a supermarket isn’t the only way it can be exploited. You’re just as bad as a meat-eater…” blah blah blah, drink a-sloshing and digging a continuously deeper hole for myself. The poor guy was actually very nice about the whole thing; clearly he was in a place where he was comfortable in his choice.

label6My opinion has changed so drastically in the last few weeks and I think it’s important for me to share this in the hope that it will give people something to think about – especially those like me who have been quick to critique others who are contributing in any way towards making the world a better place. Could it have been denial? Jealousy? I don’t know. The girl I mentioned before is doing a great thing in her vegetarianism, but she, myself and all the others in whatever lifestyle they lead, have to stop judging and comparing others. To me, in that situation a few months ago, the vegetarian girl wasn’t doing ‘enough’. To an elderly vegan who hasn’t been near an animal product in food or otherwise since the womb, I might not be doing ‘enough’. 100% vegan is almost like the holy grail of lifestyle choices to me. It is so pure and so intense that it is very difficult to achieve, especially if you have been brought up in a family of meat and dairy eaters and are surrounded by ambiguous products containing these 6-syllable ingredients that make no sense.

vegan not real

Am I a vegan, or am I ‘transitioning’ to the vegan lifestyle? Is it right for me to call myself a vegan when I knowingly am still using my leftover non-vegan beauty products, or when I had that minor blip and ate the prawn crackers? Can anyone and does anyone ever avoid all animal products in a Western society? Definitely something to think about.

Any person who is doing whatever they can to move towards change should be applauded, and that is something I am working on. Any person who has the right intentions, be it veganism, another lifestyle choice or just generally, is a good person in my eyes. The key thing for me and my readers to take away from this is the focus on INTENTION, not perfection. There are no perfect people in the world and everyone has their own shit going on that we’ll never understand. As an all-or-nothing person, I went from cheeseburger-loving, milk-guzzling maniac to upholding quite a strict vegan diet. 6 months ago I would have bowed down to the holy entities that managed to have enough self-control to give up bacon butties on hangover day. I have made a huge step forward and I should feel proud of myself. I shouldn’t be made to feel embarrassed or struggle with whether to use the label ‘vegan’ or not in case I’m not good enough. And I shouldn’t be inflicting any of that on anyone else, either.

For me, veganism is the attempt to move away from as many animal-derived products as possible. I will take a medicine prescribed to me to help me survive whether it contains animal ingredients or not. I’m not going to walk around in wooden-soled shoes or never use a computer again (rubber and plastics potentially contain animal by-products) but in accepting that maybe it isn’t possible to be ‘100% vegan’ I’m not going to let that get me down. The less of a product we purchase, the less it will be produced – that is simple supply and demand. I truly believe that I and many others are making a difference towards the end of cruel and systematic factory-farming and disgusting animal testing practices in the purchasing of cruelty-free alternatives.

I don’t eat meat, eggs, fish or dairy products 99.9% of the time, and to my knowledge. One day I hope to be there 100%. I own items that include animal products or have used animal testing, but am replacing everything with cruelty-free substitutions at my own pace and with the limited budget I have. Sometimes I sit and have intense and almost sexual thoughts about eating a massive bowl of spaghetti carbonara. I consider myself to be a vegan and I feel a million times better than I ever have before. We should all support one another in the positive lifestyle choices we make, and I am sorry to anyone that I have made to feel like their journey is not important.label5

Storing nuts for the winter: sensible or senseless?

I could tell as soon as I walked through the door something was missing; that glimmer of recognition wasn’t there. She doesn’t understand who I am like she used to.

The world sees the British as depressed and pessimistic. We moan and complain and who can blame us with this weather? – but I’ve thought about it a lot today and in my opinion we’re quite optimistic in one way: future. Everyone seems to be planning for the future – I want this job and this car and this lifestyle and this many children and then that better car and a country house in Devon that I visit for long weekends away with my adoring family and then that even better car and my children will get all A’s in their exams and play violin and will never need a shop-bought cake for their birthday because in this fantasy world I can bake.

I see this as similar to a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. He scampers around for months on end with no immediate reward and sensibly stashing his findings for later. By the time the first snow falls he’s happy as Larry in Lapland with his little nut store going on. I suppose it’s like the novelty of having a mini-fridge in your room in how convenient the nut store is in the winter. Like, it’s right there. People with a mini-fridge in their room will know what I’m saying. So in the end all his efforts were worth it for another year. I’m using the squirrel as a metaphor for us, the people. The nuts can be anything from money to success to experiences and the store for the winter is our future. We’re all scampering around too in order to get where we ideally want to be later. Most people do a degree to qualify for a certain job. We work in trashy bars that close at 4am and pay cash-in-hand in order to gain experience for a better job afterwards. We don’t eat the glorious cheeseburger in order to maintain a ‘beach-bod’ for our holiday abroad. We don’t stay up past midnight because we have to get up early tomorrow. Everything we do has a positive or negative consequence and the choices we make are heavily influenced by those.

In the grand scheme of things isn’t this way of thinking extremely optimistic? I mean, we’re assuming we’re even going to be here tomorrow. Life is a precious thing that can be taken away in the blink of an eye. How often do we consider not getting to that point we all imagine – that place we call “settled down”? I have a friend who I think I’ve mentioned in a blog post before that hates his degree. He is constantly miserable and under pressure and wakes up each morning dreading lectures or assignments or exams on things he’s simply not interested in. Since the first year I’ve said “quit, do what makes you happy”. People tell me it’s not as simple as that but having left university twice myself much to the disdain of my family I can assure you it is. My friend’s response to quitting was that he needed to get a decent final mark in order to obtain a decent job in which he can make decent money to provide for the future. To “make a life” for himself.

I find it really interesting how we can allow ourselves to suffer for something we only have a chance of obtaining. People wake up dreading what’s to come that day for such a long time, whether it be their university course or job position not motivating or inspiring them, in hope to be rewarded for it later. I very much believe in living in the moment but find it difficult to do consistently just like everyone else. As I said before everything has a consequence and sometimes it’s more complicated than just overlooking that.

In the same way, the important people in our life are always included in our future plans. Obviously we understand that people don’t live forever, but until a letter from the doctors comes through the door or something, death isn’t really even an option.  And that’s not a BAD thing; we can’t live our lives in fear of the worst case scenario. We couldn’t get on with the day if “he might die” or “she might die” is running through our heads, (although if it did I bet we’d all be a lot nicer to each other). That squirrel wouldn’t collect his nuts for the winter if he was afraid to go out and get eaten by a fox. I didn’t visit her for a long time because the thought she could get poorly and leave us hadn’t crossed my mind. It’s not that I didn’t want to or couldn’t be bothered. There was no sense of urgency.

She was diagnosed with cancer today. And we think she has Parkinson’s.

To anyone that is reading this that has put off seeing a loved one, please try and find the time to catch up – even if it’s just a phone call. Tomorrow they might not be the same person anymore. Life IS precious and in the grand scheme of things so fleeting. If there are things you want to say or making up to do with family or friends do it today, do it now. Put aside any principle or pride and remember how easily and unfairly they can be taken from you. Is it really worth holding the grudge in the end?

I hugely regret not visiting her in the time her mind deteriorated. I will never come through the door and see her face filled with memories shared and love and understanding like before. I didn’t know, I hadn’t planned for this. Do you see what I’ve been saying? Homosapians have developed far beyond a bloody squirrel. Stop doing or not doing things now in assumption for the future. Don’t suffer now in order to be happy later. “Later” is just as vague as asking the length of a piece of string. We have beautiful minds and the capability to think and feel and remember and we should use them right now in a way that satisfies us before the same opportunities aren’t there anymore. This sad story of my Grandmother is just one example of dangerously leaving things to be better in the future. The world doesn’t always work like that. We’ve all got something we’ve been putting off doing. Now is as good a time as any and it takes something like I’ve experienced today to realise that. Don’t wait to understand it yourself, just trust me: do it now or regret it later.

A story of a Someone called Something

Many years ago when I was new to the concept of social media and internet trolls I stumbled across a Facebook profile using the screen name ‘Marthur Mowgli’ who would find memorial pages set up by family and friends of someone who had recently deceased and write the most despicable things in the comments. The reason I remember this person is because I started a very odd online friendship with him via private messaging; he did eventually tell me his real name but despite him probably being an insane serial killer I feel bad revealing his true identity. I can tell you he lived in North Carolina and when I was 15 he was 20. Thinking about it though MM could be a mask of another fake persona that he had given to me to lull me into a false sense of security and trust. How would I have ever known?

MM messaged me after I had replied to a series of his comments on these RIP Facebook pages. It wasn’t too difficult to follow his online movement: every ‘popular’ memorial page, whether the person had been on the news or simply had a lot of ‘likes’ and activity, he was there. I joined as many as I could and questioned him, belittled him, pitied him. It only made him worse and I eventually realised that my attention was fueling him. Thousands of people wrote back angry comments in an attempt to get rid of him but in every one of my own comments I asked “why?”. WHY was he doing this? As soon as he appeared in my inbox I started to regret ever speaking to this psychopath and convinced myself he knew where I lived and was going to silence me the only way he knew how.

“Why?” – his message read. So simple yet ambiguous, so unexciting yet alluring. Don’t reply Ciretta, I told myself. This was long before the ‘seen’ application had been added to Facebook messenger in which the person you were conversing with could see if and when you had read their message. He’d never have known I’d opened it if I had just left it alone. But I couldn’t. I can’t remember how the exact conversation went but I know I asked “why what?” and within a month we had started to message each other every day. He explained to me his negative view on Facebook memorial pages and I explained how much he was hurting people that were mourning. Unbelievably this guy seemed to take what I was saying on board and I didn’t find any more comments from ‘Marthur Mowgli’ once he’d told me to add his ‘real’ profile after a few weeks. Whether that profile was fake too I guess I’ll never know, but at the time I interpreted this as a sign of trust and we continued conversing from there.

MM and I spoke about life and love and people. We told each other about our hopes and dreams and tried to motivate each other with our aspirations (mine – writing, his – music). It baffles me thinking about how much I and thousands of others originally despised this internet troll what with my positive memories of him now.

I knew he was messed up and was very careful not to give out any personal information. I had blocked all of my private details and profile pictures from both his Facebook profiles just in case he was an axe-wildering maniac and our friendship relied only on the words we typed out each day. He never pressed to learn more about me and didn’t pressure me in to trusting him or relying on him – some comfort about this guy developed naturally because he knew NOTHING about me and only saw what I allowed him to see. It was a friendship I could not compare to any other simply because I chose what he knew and he knew he was doing the same. We could tell one another things we’d never tell anyone else as neither of us came across as judgmental people and even if we were those opinions would in no way effect our ‘real lives’.

The reason I am telling you this story is not as some kind of “BE CAREFL AROUND STRANGERS THEY WILL FIND YOU AND KILL YOU” rant, although that is probably alright advice to keep in mind. I’m still here, nothing ‘happened’. About a year after I first encountered MM I deleted my Facebook profile just for a bit of a break from social media. We said our farewells and promised that once I inevitably made a new profile we’d get back in touch and carry on where we left off.

Too short of a while later, feeling cut off from the outside world (it’s sad how deleting Facebook makes you feel like that, right?) I got back online and deleted MM and his ‘real’ profile. A while later I received a message from him saying “:)” and nothing more. He did not try to add me again and while searching for his profile the next day found he had blocked me. I’ve never been able to find him since. I like to think that we both felt satisfied with how far our friendship could possibly go under the circumstances and his last message was a way of showing me there were no hard feelings – he understood.

Sometimes I pass a stranger in the street and we make eye contact and I convince myself it’s him. I know that he could have easily been a middle-aged fugitive with row after row of jars containing eyes of his victims in his log cabin in the woods. He could have been an old lady with grandchildren who wore those old-fashioned nude pantyhose. He could have been a 12 year old with a vivid imagination and hippy parents that made him try hallucinogenics in order to ‘expand his way of thinking’. I don’t know.

68% of people ‘share’ a Facebook photo as an advertisement for themselves – to give others a better sense of who they are (http://oginenergy.com/sites/default/files/Contagious-Content.pdf). Isn’t every social media profile a façade? We choose what/how to update or upload or share in a way that allows us to come across as the person we want everyone to see. Everyone reckons clicking on a profile is a window in to their world when in fact it’s only what they want you to see – and they want you to see it for a specific reason. How different was my friendship with MM to the friendship we have with the people we know are ‘real’, but only have contact with online? And the amount of time we spend reading what other people have to say and comparing ourselves with them and their pictures and the amount of likes they have on their whatever – how much of that is the real them? 

Just something to think about when your self-esteem is affected by something you read from someone online. The next time a cutesy couple posts a picture of themselves baking cookies captioned “OMG so yummeh, and I’m not talking about the cookies teheheheh” a small part of me will remember my friend MM and how I really knew nothing about him. His first profile was a way for him to put a message across: his disdain for Facebook memorial pages and the people that created them. He wanted to provoke and be disliked. His second profile was a way for him to connect with another person. He wanted to be understood and admired and to build a friendship. One person with two agendas and two profiles in order to do that effectively. Who knows if either of those were the real him? That cutesy couple might be falling apart, and need validation from their friends in order to convince themselves they can work. A few likes on a picture of them doing something adorable like baking can actually provide that – trust me I’ve been there (although not with baking, I need to stay away from kitchens for health and safety reasons).

I dunno. I think we can all take something from that.

breaking bad 3

“Why, she wouldn’t even harm a fly/spider…”

After brutally vacuuming up a total of 16 spiders from my bedroom walls this evening I realised the end of procrastination was nigh. It became apparent that I had done pretty much everything possible to avoid making a difficult decision and now had nothing left to do but sit and think about it. “However, I COULD write a blog post about vacuuming those spiders which gives me another solid half an hour or so of not making a decision”. And that’s my piss-poor explanation/apology for whatever spiel you’re about to read.

I generally like spiders; they keep the bothersome fly population under control and apparently some have brains so big that their other organs have to overflow in to their legs. I was going to let the 5 in my peripheral vision set up shop for a while until they inevitably made tracks. Maybe one was a boy spider and one was a girl spider and they liked each other and wanted to riddle my room with baby spiders. Now they have died a death in my vacuum bag as tragic as Jack Dawson in the icy waters surrounding the Titanic.

This gif is probably showing something very similar to the spider's last moments being sucked in to a hoover.
This gif is probably showing something very similar to the spider’s last moments being sucked in to a hoover.

I’m not a fidgety person unless something is bothering me. I was sat at my laptop glancing over at these spiders wondering how they had the nerve to just dangle there distracting me. Didn’t they have better things to do like make a slightly more remarkable web than the one pitifully hanging by a mere thread? And what food store had they compiled between them? ONE MOTH. It was just embarrassing. There are insects adventuring around my bedroom all the time with it being an underground cellar conversion.

I then did that thing I do where I feel sorry for inanimate objects and insects with no real understanding of life and death. They aren’t so bad, these spiders. They don’t deserve to die. My counter-argument was that their silk is supposedly as strong as steel and that they could easily take over the world with that and their vast numbers if only they had the damn motivation. So why SHOULD I feel sorry for them?

I realise in retrospect that they hadn’t done anything wrong, these peaceful arachnids. I was taking my troubles of not being able to make this important decision out on my eight-legged friends and dragged the hoover in to my room with a cackle as disturbing as Norman Bates.

"Why, she wouldn't even harm a fly..."
“Why, she wouldn’t even harm a fly…”

Once I got started there was no stopping me – destroying a family of five wasn’t enough. I scoured the corners of my room for any more spiders that were hiding from me and by the end had an impressive collection of 128 legs in my hoover. Did I feel good about myself? No. I remember a teacher telling me never to vacuum up spiders because they can survive and crawl back out the hoover again.. which is a fairly disturbing thought due to my paranoia about insects having an instinct for revenge.

I have basically wasted 30 minutes to conclude that I am indecisive AND a murderer.

“Women are said to never say what they mean and men never mean what they say.”

Human relationships make the world go round. Psychology teaches us that interaction with fellow homosapians (or for all you crazy cat ladies out there, mammals) is essential for well-being and good mental health.  Social interaction is unbelievably complex; women are said to never say what they mean and men never mean what they say, people pretend to dislike you so someone else likes them, a boy and a girl who call themselves friends apparently always have secret feelings for one another because lord forbid a penis and vagina being in such close proximity so often would ever lead to anything other than sex. We’ve been interacting with other people for so long you’d assume we’d have it all sussed out by now, yet communication breakdown seems to be the number one reason for relationship failures.

Imagine a world where everyone was open and honest all the time. I believe I am quite an open person – which fairs well with my male relationships and not so well with the female ones. If I want the last slice of pizza I will duel to the death in order to claim it. I don’t do so well with the girly pleasantries of “you can have it”, “oh no, YOU can have it” unless I genuinely don’t want it. Unladylike, you say? If being unladylike means I can be honest and quit the faffing chuck me a Yorkie bar and be done with it. Although I have yet to perfect this technique, I consciously try to be as open and honest as possible. I’ve seen too many good things go bad in the past just because I can’t ever say what I actually mean.

I wish I could pretend this example I’m going to use is a hypothetical situation but embarrassingly I’ve been here with a guy I was sort-of-seeing. And don’t make a face like this is weird because I’m certain we’ve all visited Awkward Alley before at least once. The writing in green is what is being said and the writing in red is what is actually meant.

X: Do you want to hang out tomorrow?

Do you want to hang out tomorrow?

Y: Um, it’s up to you.

Yes

X: Well I don’t mind.

If you’re not bothered I’m not going to show I’m bothered.

Y: Well do you have anything else on?

You have nothing else on so why would you not see me? Is it my thighs?

X: No, just chilling.

I told you I have nothing else on tomorrow so why would you ask?

Y: Ok. If you fancy it just let me know.

We both know we’re going to hang out tomorrow but I’ll pretend like I don’t know that.

X: Alright, see you whenever.

Alright, see you tomorrow.

In an ideal world, wouldn’t that conversation have gone something like this?

X: Do you want to hang out tomorrow?

Y: Yeah that’d be nice.

X: Cool, pick you up at 9?

Y: Sounds good, bring lube.

The frustrating thing is that both parties know exactly what is going through the other person’s head (aka the writing in red), yet still both come out with what’s written in green. WHY?! And look, I do this all the time too. I’m not pretending to be some kind of revolutionary communicator. I am aware of this and try very hard not to do it but I am just as big a culprit as the rest of you. It’s almost as if we can’t help doing it. Once you become aware that the red writing is happening there’s all this blue writing scrolling across the bottom of the screen that is your mind saying why are you saying that? over and over. We’re constantly fighting an inner battle with ourselves, but I feel sorrier for those people in denial of the red writing. They don’t even realise they’re chatting bollocks; at least we accept we’re stupid.

If you sit and think too much about nothing anyone says making sense it really does feel like your brain is going to implode. So I shall leave you with this: a llama in a scarf.

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How majestic.

Someone will accidentally read this and spicy bananas will become a thing.

I am currently reading a book called ‘Blogging for Happiness‘ by Ellen Arnison. Ellen has just suggested that I write a very quick, very simple blog update using something floating around aimlessly in the back of my mind and which I don’t really feel the need to talk about. So here is that thing.

Choosing to eat spicy food is something I struggle to come to terms with. I swear, in my top 10 list of worst torture methods I’d put being forced to eat a Vindaloo quite high up there along with being tickled and having my fingers chopped off. You can’t taste anything when food is that spicy. It’s literally just spice. Oh hey, I fancy spice today. I need a pint of milk with my meal because it’s basically just spice on spice. I go red in the face and start choking but man do I love curry. WHAT? Explain yourself guys.

I get that hot food is a part of some cultures but I am British and my palate can stretch as far as two different kinds of potato with my Christmas dinners. There is a reason I put salt and pepper on everything: my taste buds are so limited that I need this familiar flavour on practically everything I shovel into my mouth in order to finish a meal. And I’m really ok with that. How do you holy entity-like creatures of this country MANAGE these dishes?

I remember ordering a takeaway with a good friend one evening while watching reruns of ‘Friends’ – it was from an Indian restaurant but I still ordered a cheeseburger. My friend got himself a huge, hot curry with actual full pieces of chili just chilling on his plate like they weren’t going to so very soon destroy his mouth. And this is what he said after the first forkful: “man, I’m gonna shit well tomorrow”. I can’t even begin, guys. The hot food fad is beyond me. Like, I appreciate toilet time just as much as the next human being, but I wouldn’t purposefully eat something that is 100% going to give me the shits the next day. Is it a man thing? Men don’t really seem fazed by poo. I don’t know. I’m getting worked up just thinking about it.

The one thing I have constantly been picked on for by my male mates is my inability to eat hot food. One time, in 6th form at school, my friends and I were queuing for our lunch. We’d left it quite late and the choice was limited, so I picked up a chicken tikka wrap which I had never tried before – and oh my god. I had tears running down my face and I am told that chicken tikka is not even considered a hot food. Is there something wrong with me or can at least one reader relate to my bafflement? I’ve even Googled “health disadvantages of eating spicy food” as some kind of feeble attempt of a back-up argument and found nothing. I feel like I am going to die every single time I am forced into eating something spicy; I was sure chilies slowly burned the inside of your stomach lining until it killed you.

Do you know what I like to eat? Cheese, and stuff. I like food that doesn’t alter bowel movement or set off volcanic explosions in your mouth. What pleasure do you people gain from wanting to rip your own tongue out of your head? I have been in situations where I have to rest my tongue in a pot of petit filous yoghurt for an unnatural amount of time in order to cool it down. Eat a banana, they said. It’ll help with the spice, they said. NOW I CAN JUST TASTE SPICY BANANA. THERE’S A REASON THAT IS NOT A DELICACY.

I don’t really know what I expected to come of this blog post. It’s just a rant, I guess. I usually try and spread some helpful message but I simply just don’t understand the love for spice and needed to vent that. Knowing my luck someone will accidentally read this and spicy bananas will become a thing. I don’t need that in my life right now.