:: Thursday, November 14, 2002 ::

My hair hurts. Being in the city makes me forget to be low maitenance, so today I had my hair up in this elaborate bun-thingy and everyone kept saying "wow, why are you so dressed up?" I must really be low maitenance (read: a slob) if paying attention to my hair for one day makes people think I'm dressed up. I mean, I'm still wearing skate shoes and a hoodie here people.

Anyway, I was reading this magazine the other day and inside there was a picture of a shaved cow. Now, I'm sorry. Yesterday it was dirty laundry and puke, today it's shaved cows - you must be thinking "does she NOT want me to read this anymore?" But seriously, I have a point.

So there's this shaved cow. And I think that MY hair hurts. That poor cow. You have no idea how pathetic a cow looks without hair. But to the point: the article was about animal abuse within the meat industry. Choose to believe it or not, but Adbusters claims that there are evil do-ers within the meat industry who skin cows and cut their hooves off BEFORE they're dead. Okay, how sick is that? So my point is this: I'm not sure whether or not I buy that story, but the idea of it combined with the picture of the hairless cow was enough to make me try to be a vegetarian again.

3 days down, lifetime to go. I'm not good at this whole "willpower" thing.

It'd be easier if I didn't like meat so much. But I do. I love it. I just don't agree with it, you know? Damn conscience. It'd also be easier if the vegetarian options in the cafeteria extended beyond the salad bar and the occational tofu entree that has the texture of a gumboot. But I'll rant about the cafeteria another day. In the meantime, I'll include some song lyrics from Melanie, my mom's favourite folk singer from the 60s:

I was just thinking about the way it's supposed to be,
I'll eat the plants and the fruit from the trees,
And I'll live on vegetables and I'll grow on seeds,
But I don't eat animals and they don't eat me,
Oh no, I don't eat animals 'cause I love them, you see,
I don't eat animals, I want nothing dead in me.

Oh man, the 60s - they wrote songs about every damn thing. That's my propaganda for the night. Sweet dreams.

(listening to: Tool - Undertow)

:: Katy 12:08 a.m. [+] :: ::