Graaaaaaaaains...

So, my roommate is writing a Zombie book, and it got me thinking. What would I do if I became a zombie? Veggie-wise, I mean. Would I go full Z and start chowing down on everyone I know, or would I stay a V and forgo the usual zombie fare?

Well, I guess this depends on a few factors. First, what kind of nourishment do zombies actually require? Do zombies primarily feast on brains because that is the actual nourishment required for their continued survival, or merely because the gray matter of that asshole down the street is literally delicious revenge? Do they genuinely like the taste? Can they taste? Or, like in Warm Bodies, do they simply eat the brains because it allows them to feel human again, if only for a little while? I like to think that unless they serve some essential nutritional purpose, I would pass on the grey matter and opt for a nice stir fry. Of course, if zombies can taste, that begs my next question: Does returning from the dead change your taste buds? I have to assume that it would, because no one I know has any interest in eating the breains of a fellow human, even one they hate. I must, therefore, wonder if I'll still like the same veggies I like now. Then again, if I don't, maybe I'll start to like some of the veggies I've always hated. (I'm looking at you, celery.) Who knows? Or perhaps Zombie taste-buds are specifically tuned toward fleshy flavors. And if brains are so delicious, would I still be able to forgo them? Or would I even allow myself to try them in the first place, knowing that it might become a weakness, like bacon is now?

This, of course, all hinges on one very important question: What kind of zombie am I? Am I a conscious, self-aware, fully functional rotting corpse, or merely a member of a mindless horde of diseased flesh and unsatisfied cravings? After all, if I'm not fully aware, I can't be held responsible for my actions. Any brain-munching I might partake in while in any less than a fully self-aware, coherent state may not be my own decision, or desires, and must be treated as an unconscious episode, or bout of insanity. Especially if there are mindless hordes involved. If, however, I'm fully self-aware, I can make the conscious decision to remain a vegetarian, even in the face of enormous peer pressure. Of course, at that point, I'm dead anyway, so all my health and food-preference related reasons go out the window. Hell, I'll probably get shot by some farmer with a hero complex sometime in the very near future anyway. Might as well wreak some havoc while I've got the chance...

I guess what I'm saying is, if someday I come up to you and try to munch on your brains with a vacant expression on my pale, rotting face, don't take it personally. I'm not myself today. Just hand me some broccoli and try not to make a mess when you shoot me, okay? Thanks.

~Happy Hippie Herbivore

Words of Wisdom (From my Pants)

I have a sad announcement. As of last night, my laptop is no longer among the living. It is with heavy heart that I must inform you that its hard drive has crashed.

"Hey, crazy plant lady," you say, "What does this have to do with your pants?" Shush. I'm getting to that. Be patient.

First, you must know that the loss of my laptop is an emotional one. She was a good laptop. I named her Lizzie, and she served me well the three years I had her. She was with me through countless all-nighters and final papers and Doctor Who marathons with my roommate. Although I did have most of my important files backed up, there are still things that will be lost. The most recent photos I had, a chapter from the book I was writing, access to all the things I've long since forgotten the passwords to, a few measures of my senior composition project (although, I think those might still be saved in an email). All things I took for granted. It's a hard loss.

Now, the pants. My grandmother took me shopping on Monday. I'm very hard on clothing, especially shoes and jeans, and all my jeans had acquired holes in... unfortunate places. As a result, she took me to buy a few new pairs of jeans before I head back to school in a few weeks. Due to my... "slightly below average" stature, they needed to be hemmed. They arrived in the mail on Thursday. Both pairs I had liked best happened to be from the same brand, "Liverpool," and it so happens, as I was removing them from the box, that I noticed on the inside of the right front pocket of both pairs, a Beatles quote. One, from "Revolution," the other from "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da." As a Beatles fan, and self-proclaimed hippie, I was pleased with this development, and didn't really think anything of it.

Until last night, when, in the midst of my sorrow over the loss of my beloved laptop, I took off my pants and was faced with the following words of wisdom: "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da. Life goes on." These words were exactly what I needed to hear, the sentiment fitting perfectly with the events of my life. Yes, I had lost my computer, and that loss hurt. But the earth continues to spin, the sun continues to shine, and, yes, "Life goes on." It just goes to show that even in the darkest of times, wisdom can come from the strangest of places. Even, yes, your pants. Now, as I go to shop for a new hard drive, and hopefully bring new life to the shell that once was my laptop, I remember those words.

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da.
Life.
Goes.
On.

~Happy Hippie Herbivore

Dear FBI,

Today, my mother said the best thing ever. Ladies and gentlemen, from now on, I'm no longer a vegetarian.

I'm a "Planterrorist."

I choose to refer to myself as such for a number of reasons. First, because I'm not an incredibly strict vegetarian (I'm a lacto-ovo-vegetarian, meaning I eat eggs and dairy products, and I allow myself seafood very occasionally, as well). Therefore, Vegetarian seems almost like the wrong term, as I do not eat strictly vegetables all the time. Second, while I do indeed indulge in animal products, those products are not, and were never alive. They may aid in the lives of other living creatures, or in the case of eggs, have the potential to be living creatures, but they are not alive. Plants, on the other hand, are living things. They eat and grow and procreate. Plants, therefore, are the only living things that I eat (well, except that occasional seafood), and I eat enough of them that, frankly, they should be scared of me. No, they should be terrified. The third reason,while my primary reason, is much less scientific. To put it simply, Planterrorist just sounds so much more badass than vegetarian.

It is for these reasons, I choose to be known henceforth as a Planterrorist. I hope that you will respect my decision.

So, dearest FBI, let it be known that when I declare myself, in public places, to be a "Planterrorist," it does not mean that I am planning acts of terrorism. It simply means that I am a terror to plants. Because I eat them. A lot. Please don't shoot me.
     Sincerely,
~Happy Hippie Herbivore

Update: My stupid biologist best friend slash roommate pointed out to me that eggs don't technically have the potential to be alive, because they aren't fertilized. I knew that. I was just testing you. Shut up. I knew what I meant. Your face.

Happy Hippie Herbivore

The first thing you should know about me is that I'm not one of those bleeding-heart, meat-is-murder, militant vegetarians. I'm more of a vegetables-are-delicious-and-easy-to-cook-and-also-meat-is-kind-of-bad-for-you type vegetarian. I do, on occasion, indulge in a few of my favorite foods from before I went green. I really miss bacon. Like, a lot. That being said, I do try to adhere to my vegetarianism fairly strictly. It helps that I didn't really eat a lot of meat to begin with. Although, it's funny, you never really know how much meat you eat until you stop... 

 I'm 21 years old, going on 22 in September, heading into my senior year studying Music Theory at my University. I hope to be a commercial songwriter or broadway composer. My backup plan is rocket science. My boyfriend, my roommate, and my sister are my favorite people in the world, and they all have different opinions of my vegetarianism. My sister thinks it's awesome, but she could never do it. My boyfriend doesn't care what I eat. My roommate called me a godless heathen. (All in jest, of course. What can I say? The girl likes her meat.)

I'm kind of new at this (I've only been vegetarian for about a month) and I'm a moderately picky eater, although I'll try anything once, and most things twice. Nonetheless, I'm happy with my choice, and look forward to all the exciting new vegetables I get to try. Let me know in the comments if you have any recipes you recommend! 

 ~Happy Hippie Herbivore