#dietary regime

[yvonnesmithblog]

5 Essential Tips for Managing Diabetes During the Holidays

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Could I request BG3 origin companions + Halsin and Rolan reacting to you asking them to help you work out/get fit? I've just started my fitness journey (for health reasons) and motivating myself can be really hard sometimes ;-;

good luck on your fitness journey, anon! i lost a load of weight over lockdown so i know that it can be difficult but i promise you it's possible!

Astarion

he' will literally complain the whole time but will do it anyway.

he doesn't work out with you, but he will sit to the side as you exercise and shout 'encouragements' at you.

"oh that weightlifting looks like it's absolutely awful, keep it up!" or he sees you eating a protein bowl and he's like "good on you for eating that but I'm glad I only need to survive off blood"

but still let you know he's proud of you and is, overall, supportive and sweet.

Gale

I am not a 'gale has abs' truther. sorry larian he has a str 8 I'm not buying it.

still, he will really really do his best to help be your workout partner.

if he spots you with weightlifting he has to do it with a mage hand too, or my boy is not strong enough to make sure you don't hurt yourself lol

he will get so knackered trying to keep up with you but he'll do it! he wants to be a good exercise partner!

is the best for looking up dietary stuff & researching into best exercises for the parts of your body you want to focus on.

maybe he does have abs by the time of you get into a good routine...

Wyll

Wyll is the only str8 companion I buy having abs. he's a swordsman and keeps himself lean to be good in a fight.

uses his swordmanship knowledge as a fitness regime - the two of you spar every day for long periods, it's a great workout!

helps you cool down after too, shows you the best way to help ease the sting of lactic acid.

he will sit down with you and make an exercise plan for each day. if he's doing this with you you're going the whole way, not half-arsing it.

exhausting but a great workout partner!

Karlach

very excited. jumps into training with you way too fast and hard. you are exhausted after the first couple of days and go to bed aching from it.

when she realises she cuts down on what she's asking you to do and tries to build up your strength and endurance on a curve rather than all at once.

she loves getting up early and going for a jog, just the two of you.

great at weight lifting. you're able to lift far more than you could every dream of after a couple of months.

she flexes at you and you flex back, then break into laughter. she loves having someone to do this with!

Shadowheart

especially when she's still a sharran, she is very much a 'feel the burn' sort of exercise partner.

your body hurts? good. keep going. that's how you know it's working. shar wants you to feel the pain.

lots of yoga and meditation, too. helps you restore balance to yourself after a tough session.

you go to bed sore every night but she just uses heals on you the next morning before you get going again.

it works but god, it is rough.

Lae'zel

"hmm. very well, i have seen how enviously you look at my body. i will train you to have my strength."

like karlach, she throws you in to the deep end, because that is how githyanki do it. unlike karlach she does not let up.

she is brutal but you see results quickly. another one of the companions who likes sparring. will make you fight her again and again until she can see proof your muscles are developing.

one day she gives you a compliment about how well you're doing and you're glowing for the rest of the day.

Halsin

for sure uses his wildshape to help you work out, turning into bigger and bigger animals and getting you to carry them as you run.

very supportive! constantly giving you a stream of praise about how well you are doing.

suggests good plants to supply you with extra vitamins, makes sure you are drinking water and staying hydrated.

being so old he probably has his own workout routine which he adapts for you. is aware of how much you can do but also helps you increase your endurance - he is the best at planning what you're doing that day.

Rolan

will. not. shut. up. about. how. he. hates. this.

"i don't want to do this >:(" "then don't." "no wait--"

groans and whines as he jogs next to you. eventually uses a floating disk to hover next to you as you run a circuit.

when you point out he's just giving up, that incites him, and he becomes a halfway decent workout buddy - he says it's just to spite you, but you think it may be because he enjoys spending time with you...

[sxeberg]

DIRECTIONS IN STRAIGHTAGE:

• Hardliners are the strictest offshoot of the Straight edge subculture. The ideology of hardline was formulated by Vegan Reich vocalist Sean Muttaki. It involves the rejection of harmful substances. Hardliners do not consume coffee and energy drinks, considering caffeine to be a drug, and also refuse alcohol, nicotine and drugs. Strict dietary regime. Hardliners consume only non-animal food (strict veganism). A conservative attitude towards sex. Sex before marriage, refusal to view and buy porn products, refusal of artificial contraception and a ban on abortions are condemned. Sex is allowed only for the purpose of conception and in no other way. Most of the hardliners are active members of the Animal Liberation Front and the Earth Liberation Front. Activists release animals from scientific laboratories and livestock farms, find shelter and veterinary care for them.

•Militant sXe is an extremely radical offshoot of the straight edge subculture. 13 Its representatives fight by any means (up to violent ones) for the split of their ideas in society, as well as against any kind of drug addicts (including alcohol and tobacco) and the spread of light and heavy drugs. Representatives of the militant sXe are engaged in direct actions: they hold demonstrations, release animals from cages, smash alcohol and porn shops, as well as shops with furs and leather. At the origins of the militant movement was a group of young people from Boston who called themselves FSU (Friends Stand Together). Some of them worked as bouncers in clubs, caught drug dealers, destroyed drugs and took money, which was their main livelihood.

•Softline sXe (from English — "soft line" or "lax course") is an offshoot of the straight edge subculture, which opposes any kind of violation of human rights, animal rights, violence and violent acts, as well as universal equality. Softliners do not smoke, do not use drugs, alcohol, caffeine and do not have casual or promiscuous sexual relations. In addition, they fight against discrimination based on religion, gender or age and advocate for animal rights (they are vegetarians or vegans). Possible forms of nonviolent action by softliners: dissemination of propaganda information, oral propaganda among people around, boycotting products of companies related to the exploitation of animals, their killing, vivisection, holding concerts, demonstrations and pickets dedicated to specific topics.

•Vegan sXe is a direction of the straight edge subculture, which involves the complete rejection of animal products.

• Christian straightforward style. The Christian healthy lifestyle adheres to the path of complete rejection of what destroys the spirit, soul and body, he sets the main task to develop relationships with God and bring the principles of the Kingdom of God to people, in particular freedom from poisons, stimulants, drugs, bad habits, to bring love to people in practice, to reconcile them with Jesus. He keeps to this path because of his faith in Jesus Christ. A Christian's choice of a healthy lifestyle is an absolute rejection of drugs (light or not) - alcohol, tobacco, caffeine, etc. He can refuse that there is a drug for him personally. Sex before marriage, infidelity, and divorce are excluded. Same-sex relationships are considered a sin. Racial and national discrimination are rejected. A Christian is how he tries to love all people and does not notice that he is the main one for the ignorant. The evil of other people, in his opinion, will be punished by God. I am a person who sees that life has meaning and a scientific plan for everyone, and that a person can become a second if he gives up this very serious path to God.

P.S.: this author does not consider himself to be any other of these dirictions.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Do you have any tips for a recently-turned vampire struggling to adjust to new dietary restrictions?

I'm not fully hematophagic, but a lot of my former-standby meals and snacks are off the table. Pre-made meals don't often come in blood-based alternatives, though luckily ingredient substitutes have become more common than they used to be.

I wasn't very good at meal prep even before all this. My turning was unintentional, so I didn't have opportunity to learn in advance. I feel very behind the curve, learning to be more confident in the kitchen and getting used to the taste of blood at the same time. How do I even begin to tackle this?

Frankly, reader, I'd be very surprised if you weren't struggling to adjust to these new circumstances! I hope it's some reassurance to know that it is very normal for new turns to find it particularly challenging to adjust to changes in diet following their transformation.

As well as your new dietary restrictions, you may also find that your appetite has changed. This is again very normal. Depending on your particular genus, you may find your appetite has increased as new physical abilities use more energy. Alternatively, your body may have become more efficient, leaving you able to go longer between meals than you previously found comfortable.

My first piece of advice for you is to pay close attention to how hungry you're getting, and when. This is not to say you must only eat when you're hungry – nothing so puritanical! But your body has changed, and being aware of that change will stand you in good stead for looking after yourself in the future.

Turning is not only physically demanding. It is an emotional strain, too. Now is not the time to throw yourself into a whole new eating regime, or to push yourself out of your comfort zone – at least, no more than you have already been pushed by this transformation.

I strongly recommend giving yourself permission to cut as many corners as it takes to keep you fed and fuelled for your daily life. If that means stocking up on ready-to-eat blood bags that you can suck down on the way to work, so be it. If ordinary food is still an option, you might try mixing a little blood in with your usual snacks. I hear plenty of people swear by adding a swirl of the red stuff to their overnight oats.

Getting used to your new diet will take time. But time is something you may find you have rather more of now than you used to. Concentrate for now on learning how your new body behaves and how to keep yourself energised on a day to day basis.

From there, you can start to eat a little more adventurously and to start to experiment in the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, you will be able to give your body the care and kindness it deserves.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[psychobind]

Giving Wagnas some cooking lessons, cooking large amounts of monster meat on a open fire, and dont' forget the butter.

Campfire flames licked greedily at the dripping fat, sparks flared as the underside crisped. The beast was fierce in death, so as it must have been in life, a taut, fanged face pulled back in a permanent snarl.

"Were there no smaller beasts available for the hunt?" he asked, voice dry, gaze travelling along the expanse of the colossal carcass skewered on Dantarg's lance. The meager pat of butter he had brought along would scarcely cover a single toe. "I understand there are Seven of us, but is this not a touch... excessive?"

A pause, and the faintest flicker of unease crossed his face. He could only hope that this was, indeed, meant for the Seven of them-- and not the next stage in Dantarg's ever-escalating dietary regime for him.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Similar problems arise with Vettese and Pendergrass’s contention that “the easiest—and perhaps only—way to achieve large-scale reforestation and feed the world at the same time is through widespread veganism.” They defend this contention by feeding into their model per capita estimates of land requirements for different dietary regimes based on agricultural figures within the coterminous United States and multiplying these by global population numbers. Notably, even the article from which these estimates are drawn observes that a smaller total number of people can be supported by a vegan diet than a vegetarian or low-meat mixed one, as the former is unable to use land suitable to grazing. Although this may be less of a problem in the context of the United States—as even the lowest estimate of the maximum population fed by U.S. agriculture is 1.3 times the size of the 2010 U.S. population—it becomes a much more dangerous assumption when applied to more arid regions, such as parts of Africa, Latin America, and Asia, where attempts to impose sedentary agriculture on Indigenous populations have undermined pastoral livelihoods with disastrous social and ecological consequences. It also runs counter to the nonprofit organization GRAIN’s contentions that struggles around agriculture and sustainability need to start from the premise that “farming communities should also be able to decide by and for themselves, and without pressure, the type of land tenure they want to practice”—a sentiment echoed by movements such as La Vía Campesina and in the Marseille Manifesto. These complexities do not negate the fact that shifting that portion of the world’s population presently consuming large quantities of industrially produced meat to a more vegetable-based diet would have numerous health, ecological, and ethical benefits. Rather, a more comprehensive ecological approach suggests that there are problems with assuming that experiences and conditions based on a single U.S. metropolitan view are directly translatable into global realities. As Rob Wallace and Max Ajl point out in response to a piece co-authored by Vettese that advocates Half-Earth Socialism, planetary veganism, and synthetic meat in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, many vegan criticisms of the social-ecological effects and suffering inflicted by industrial animal husbandry are valid. Nevertheless, they lose their moral and empirical backing when they adopt a series of settler-colonial biases that facilitate the careful drawing of distinctions between industrial and sustainable cultivation of plants while treating industrial and peasant animal husbandry as an undifferentiated whole. That is, the differences between peasant and pastoral animal husbandry practiced by countless peoples around the world and industrial livestock operations are as great as those that Vettese and Pendergrass recognize between industrial and organic agriculture, in terms of their ecological consequences, their contributions to and imbrications with cultural identities, and the amount of harm inflicted on the animals involved. In this sense, Vettese and Pendergrass’s universal condemnation of all “animal husbandry as one of the most consequential and dangerous ways humans shape life on Earth” is both inaccurate and reflects what Wallace and Ajl refer to as “specific values, specific devaluations, and pathological externalizations” undergirding a project “that consents to the brute confiscation and erasure of peasant and pastoral particularisms in the name of ‘universal’ ideals: rewilding Earth upon the bones of supposedly atavistic peoples poor and brown.”

[petalsbleedingbeak666]

Hot take, but veganism is a direct pipeline to ecofascism and as such has no place in Leftist circles.

First, veganism, with its holier-than-thou attitude creates elitism among those who follow it, more often than not accompanied by disdain and straight up contempt for non-vegans (often including pescatarians, vegetarians, fruitarians etc.). This creates division of us-vs-them typical for right-wing circles (and, just by the way, is also the groundstone for building up a genocidal ideology) instead of building a community ans bridging differences typical for leftist ideologies.

Second, vegans often paint the vegan diet as a healthy alternative to other diets (which is, just by the way, false), and also as "green" (which is a lie, too). Hence ecofascism.

Third, consistently with previous points, veganism is an exclusionist ideology, excluding among others

indigenous people, especially Inuits, who are literally dependent of meat income. Not only because there is no other alternative for them in their natural homeland of the Arctic, but mostly because in polar climate, you need shitloads of energy in form of carbohydrates and fats in order to keep your body warm enough to prevent hypothermia. We are talking about a gigantic amount of energy that is literally impossible to gain from non-animal food sources even if there were some in the Arctics for that matter. And before you come swinging at me, yes, I have literally seen vegan assholes telling Inuits to go vegan. To demand Inuits to go vegan means demanding them either to give up their traditional way of life and centuries of cultural heritage, or go extinct by famine. In other words, we are talking about inflicting either cultural, or literal genocide of the Indigenous people of the Arctics.

people with metabollic diseases such as celiacs, but also diabetics, people with food allergies, and other. These people literally cannot live off of the vegan diet. Totally vegan society would be literally incapable of keeping these people alive. We are literally talking about eugenics here.

Fourth, vegans love to falsely claim that their dietary choice is "the natural one", saying bullshit like 'humans only ate meat for a fraction of existence of humankind on a larger scale from Australopithecus'. Not only this omits number of biological and evolutional facts, but it artificially creates the cult of antiquity, typical for all fascist regimes. (Fun fact, our ancestors, especially Homo habilis, literally developed their big brains because of their increased income of meat and particularly bone marrow).

Fifth, vegans clearly ostracize non-vegans out of their circles (see holier-than-thou attitude above), attempt to discredit them, or just straight up accuse them of being liars and murderers without any backup for their claims (because there is no such backup to begin with), dividing into us-vs-them (see point 1).

Sixth, overpopulation myth. No need to say more.

Seventh, veganism claims false ecology of its ideology (using climatic fear of society to fearmonger and to further ostracize "meateaters" and other non-vegans) while in itself being extremely eco-harmful (try look up the alternatives for animal resources, such as "vegan leather", "vegan fur" etc. It's all plastic. While there is an ecological coating instead of culturo-ethnical, this is no different from the Nazi claim of Aryan race and the danger of Untermenschen for its "racial purity".

Thus concluded, veganism is a pipeline to ecofascism and any leftist (punks included) should shy away from it.

[skopostheorie]

AITA for calling my (35M) husband (35M) everything that's wrong with the nation today?

I know it sounds mean but I was making a point. Let me explain.

So we were in a different city, way on the other side of the country I think, looking for something a friend of ours lost. That might sound a bit much but we're a couple that likes to go travelling a lot, so it was more a pretext to see the sights. We were looking for a specific person who worked in a dietary resort or something strange like that, but had to be discreet, so we pretended we were sick and needed to be put on a strict diet in their facilities. My husband abhorred this, where we come from eating good food is an imperative, and the diet really was miserable. But it was our only way to find the person we needed, and I did it too.

Anyway, several long days later we got sick of it and my husband had a breakdown. I felt bad for him and decided to ask more forwardly where to find the person we were looking for. They told us he had quit long ago and now worked at an inn called (name slightly changed for privacy) The Wine Marinated Hog.

My husband was furious, because we'd spent all that time suffering when the search had been a dead end anyway. The thing is, he blamed me and got all haughty. He went on about how I always have to be right and never want to do anything any way but mine and I was Mr This and Mr That.

This is when I got pissed, because obviously I couldn't have known the guy we were looking for quit. And frankly, I reckon he could have used the regime as is, and I told him so.

Anyway, I got mad, and said... Look, it sounds better in our own language, but I basically said "bread and circuses is all that matters to you! I don't know what modern [our country] has come to!".

Well, now we're not speaking to each other, and won't stop calling me a little twirp (sort of, a pun in our language) and nonsense like that. I know comparing his rudeness to the decline of our nation (for context, we've been through some hard times as a people lately, and my husband is a fierce resistance fighter) was pretty harsh, but again, he was being obstinate and rude over a few day long diet.

So, AITA?

Edit: we made up a few minutes after I posted this. Thanks everyone!

Comments

🌝 PaxRomanaVIXIX

INFO: Do you have a warrant to stalk a guy you clearly don't know just because you're looking for something?

[walaw717]

How Leaky Gut, Gary Snyder, Jim Harrison, and Okakura Kazuko Helped Me Rediscover Coffee.

Or, My Dad was a Zen Master, and I Didn’t Notice.

Zen is not some fancy, unique art of living. Our teaching is to live, always in reality, in its exact sense.

Shunryu Suzuki

It began simple enough, well, not that simple. The Traditional Chinese Physician diagnosed my partner with leaky gut syndrome. That sounds terrible, and it was for her. She loved boxed prepared foods and was not fond of vegetables. Time and malnutrition brought on by General Mills, Conagra, and a variety of corporate food chemists had caught up to her, killing the terrarium in her gut so that everything she ate penetrated past the lichen-like lining of her intestines and digestive tract so acid ate at the inner skin like a chemical spill eating the epoxy resin on a high school science class table. This acid wash triggered various autoimmune disorders and led to arthritis, diarrhea, malaise, and general misery for her and those around her. She spent a lot of time in the bathroom, travel was curtailed, and there was general unhappiness all around because the irritation in her gut often seeped out of her vocal cords.

The Physician approached me in the waiting room. At the same time, my partner lay in a private room with needles, restoring her chi into its proper channels and outlining the changes needed in our lifestyle to cure this plague of misery. The doctor told me I also needed to join the new dietary regime to be supportive.

“Well, OK,” I said with outward unfelt enthusiasm.

So we went home and cleaned cabinets, throwing packaged foods away and feeling pangs of guilt — should we throw it away or give it to a shelter? I had visions of homeless people excitedly getting free food that passed as quality and eventually needing a traditional Chinese physician to tell them why they had started crapping so much and with such urgency. I took it to the dumpster, deciding that if they dove for it, it would at least not be the typical garbage they found to eat there that already messed up their guts and energy meridians, contributing to a miserable lifestyle. Their choice would not be my responsibility. I am, after all, an American and well-practiced at ignoring or at least rationalizing my guilt at ecological and cultural destruction. The dumpster became my version of a clear-cut in Oregon. Behind twenty-five yards of pristine natural beauty and unseen from the speeding motorists on the interstates is a desolated waste that can only support the lifestyle of the rich and infamous. To paraphrase an adage from pop psychology, “What we don’t think about, we pretend we don’t bring about.”

And then there was the Mr. Coffee. It sat on the kitchen counter, a yellowing plastic oddly shaped box protectively embracing a clear glass carafe that produced without much effort or thought a dark brown nectar that started our day. It was simple: you pulled out the black plastic cup, lined it with bleached paper, measured several small scoops of coffee, replaced the black plastic cup, filled the box with water, hit the button, and left the room, knowing the watery brown liquor would be ready after the morning shower and shave. Frankly, I was addicted to the tasteless brown water that came out, full of caffeine that gave me a lift but no longer a sweet aroma, depth of flavor or anything but a buzz. The Physician said that they had to go. The little lichen and animal-like bacteria in the gut didn’t like the acid. She equated it with Agent Orange. Being of a certain age, I was more familiar with Agent Orange than I wanted or should be, and I suspect she knew that just by looking at my grey hair. She was playing dirty there, but “Well, OK.”

So Mr. Coffee went somewhere. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to become like stomach acid and create more irritation. To ease the pain, I read an article by a Buddhist who said he quit coffee for six months and felt great but eventually had a cup of the dark roast at Starbucks. He didn’t get a buzz but got jazzed for two days. That didn’t help as I read his article while drinking weak green tea with ginger, waiting for caffeine-induced enlightenment.

As a caffeine junkie and failed Roshi, I needed some relief. Each morning, I scrolled Tumblr’s pictures while drinking my tea and tried to distract myself from the lack of coffee and junk food. Before I went to Tumblr and its processed version of the good life, I had returned to Zazen, you know, meditative sitting, but I was haunted by Buddhist demons carrying Starbucks cups. That was akin to the demons I had seen as a young college student Buddhist “wannabe” reading Alan Watts and D.T. Suzuki, practicing their version of sitting zazen. The forms Mara took in those sittings mostly looked like the red-headed girl I was dating. She would arise in my meditations dancing with her female roommate, both naked dakinis looking beguilingly at me, beckoning me. Needless to say, I never found a Bodhi tree as lovely as Keanu Reeves’ in Little Buddha. I usually went to the red-headed girl’s apartment, leaving my cat to fend for herself for several days. The cat was often irritated with me — the story of my life with females.

Giving up zazen for scrolling Tumblr didn’t help much. There were many beautiful images of landscapes, cityscapes, horses, wildlife, and old trucks and cars. It is a veritable Life magazine online, and being a trained art historian studying reproductions of pictures was right up my alley. There were many images of beguiling dakinis, but more provocatively undressed than those I showed freshmen when I taught art history. As an old man, experienced in the wiles of youthful Dakinis, they looked generally unbeguiling and un-tempting. Sometimes, they wore a plaid flannel shirt tied above the waist, standing next to a campfire, or sitting on the tailgate of a pickup, holding a tin cup of coffee; those got to me — I love plaid, and there was coffee. Even more painfully, there were camping pictures, not just any camping pictures but old percolators on campfires, some with steam coming out of their spouts, some with the cooked brown fluid being poured into cups. As I hit the little heart to acknowledge I liked those images, they appeared more and more frequently. I began to seriously think there were hells, Buddhists and otherwise, and real demons determined to steal my peace.

I was not always addicted to coffee. It all began next to the Seine at a little cafe on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, where I first tasted café au lait. I was a typical 18-year-old 1970s kid backpacking through Europe, and Paris was a first stop. I hated wine and was not too fond of beer, though I drank large quantities with friends at college my first term, and Perrier was breaking my travel budget. One day, I learned that café au lait was mostly milk, and being a farm boy still wedded to the idea that milk was good for me, I downed a cup of café au lait, then another and another. At the end of my first sitting, the waiter counted eight saucers and asked if “Monsieur was feeling okay.” “Sure,” I replied with composure I didn’t feel. I left the café, strolled down the Qui Voltaire, crossed the river on the Pont de la Concorde, hiked through the Tuileries and toured the entire Louvre in 45 minutes flat.

I continued my travels in Europe and tried every type of coffee I could find, settling on Turkish coffee in little cups with big cubes of sugar. In a pinch, I would accept espresso, but by the time I got to Italy, espresso seemed a weak way to live.

Then I returned to America, tried various diner coffees, and wondered why they served browned hot water. By then, Mr. Coffee had replaced percolators and any other form of making coffee all across America. Joe DiMaggio was happy and smiling on every new box containing a coffee maker and heading to an American home.

I tried to make Turkish coffee. Generally, I failed and finally settled on strong home-brewed Mr. Coffee with lots of heavy cream. I would occasionally daydream about camping with my parents and blue-speckled-ware coffee pots on the fire or the aroma of the coffee their electric percolator made as it rhythmically gurgled in the kitchen. It never occurred to me to get an electric percolator because they were, thanks to Mr. Coffee, passe and un-American. I also avoided percolator coffee because I associated it with the odor of my parent’s cigarettes. No matter how good the coffee smelled, I had an aversion to their cigarettes and my parents. Therapy helped me overcome my aversion to my parents but not cigarettes, and the association of stale, burned, chemical-treated tobacco and perked coffee remained.

I felt good after six months of a healthy life, eating right, losing weight, and spending less time on the toilet. I still, however, craved caffeine. I started looking at Mr. Coffee online and realized it was a version of pour-over coffee. So, I bought a plastic two-cup Merlita sit-on-the-cup pour-over device. It was an odd orange-pink affair, but It made a good single cup of coffee, and I discovered that the two-cup size worked just fine to make a single cup of coffee. I understood that a pour-over made better coffee than Mr. Coffee, even though the process was the same. The two-cup pour-over process did require me to pay attention to what I was doing.

This pour-over coffee period came while I re-read Gary Snyder and Jim Harrison, two old Buddhists who were even grouchier than me. They got me rethinking, too, about the practice of the wild and how aggravated I was with General Mills and Conagra and the whole mess of modern American consumerism I allowed myself to get sucked into. I realized I missed camping, hiking, and the smell of coffee perking on an open campfire. I truly missed robust campfire coffee with its flavor and aroma.

I bought an Italian Bialetti Moka pot to remain civilized about my need for aroma. ( I didn’t say I escaped consumerism, just I was aggravated with it.). As I entered the ritual each morning of making coffee in a Moka pot, so strong that I had to serve it in tiny espresso cups to keep the buzz low, I realized that making coffee was really about paying attention, like a Japanese tea ceremony. It took time and required focused measuring of the coffee, packing the funnel, preheating the water, a degree of zazen, listening for the gurgle of the pot and knowing when to take it off the heat so it did not get bitter. I liked the meditation of preparing it. I hated the tiny, over-caffeinated cups. ( My coffee fast had at least broken my addiction to triple-dose caffeine.)

Then we had a cold front, I mean a really cold front that made me wish I had remembered to close the windows the night before, and I had visions of camping, dakinis in plaid flannel shirts, me in plaid flannel shirts, lakes and campfires and a percolator on the fire. It was a memory of connection and loss rolled into one. I was young, and it was a time before Alan Watts and D.T. Suzuki when I knew how to sit, breathe, watch, observe, be present, and smell the coffee with childlike naturalness. So, back to the consumer websites. I scanned a couple dozen percolators. Being aware that I had to make sure I was not as irritating as stomach acid in my choice, I picked a shiny stainless steel eight-cup percolator over the twelve-cup spatterware blue of my encamped youth. Two days later, it arrived and posed gloriously on my stove. Even my partner admitted to its silvery beauty.

I then read internet manuals on how to make the perfect pot of percolator coffee. They all disagreed about the amount of coffee, timing, and type of coffee. Then I remembered my dad, carefully spooning a heaping tablespoon of coffee per 6-ounce cup of water and one for the pot. I remembered how, while he measured his coffee into the basket, the pot would sit on a rock on the fire’s edge and come to a boil. He would gently lower the full basket into the boiling water, place the lid on the pot and move the pot away from the heat, allowing it not to boil vigorously but return to a slow boil so the coffee would not become bitter. And then he would wait, light a cigarette when the water would start its gentle dance in the glass cap of the lid. While he waited, he watched the perking water in the glass knob at the top of the pot without fidgeting or seeming to allow his mind to race away with him. And at the end of his cigarette, after his short version of meditation, he would lift the pot from the fire, place it on another warm but not hot rock, wait again for the basket to finish draining into the pot and remove the basket so the coffee would not become bitter, pour his mug of coffee, and sit again. Still, this sitting involvedwatching the forest and just being. The memory reminded me of Okakura Kazuko’s “Book of Tea,” his extended essay about aesthetics, tea, and Japanese life. As I remembered my Dad by the campfire, I realized Mr. Coffee’s plastic convenience erased coffee’s aesthetic from American life.

I have discovered that Coffee is not just a daily punch line at Starbucks with crazy concoctions snatched by a string of crazier motorists, nor is it the caffeine jazz you get from a neglected Mr. Coffee after a shower and a shave. Making coffee is a meditation, an act of beauty, a reminder of history and a rare act of America behaving in a more civilized way. In the Book of Tea, Kazuko comments, “The Westerner regarded Japan as barbarous while she indulged in the gentle arts of peace and began to call her civilized only when she began to commit wholesale slaughter on the Manchurian battlefields.” I realized that Mr. Coffee not only made barbarous coffee (we won’t even discuss Keurig), but Mr. Coffee was part of our uncivilized behavior toward the entire world, eliminating a small act of spirituality from our racing over-wrought lives.

I now regard the loss of Mr. Coffee not as a loss. It is a spiritual gain. Each morning now, I conduct a ritual. I rinse all my utensils, fill the pot with eight six-ounce measures of clean water, eight heaping tablespoons of freshly ground coffee and one for the pot. I bring the water to a boil, carefully insert the coffee, and place the lid on the pot. I watch until the water rises into the glass knob and then sit, and breathe for eight minutes, the amount of time I think it would have taken Dad to smoke a cigarette. I remove the pot and sit long enough to allow the water to finish draining from the basket, remove the basket and pour coffee into a mug reserved just for coffee, the one with the horses standing in a stream, drinking clear water. And then slowly sip while I sit on my porch, looking at the mountains. When it is cool enough, I wear a plaid flannel shirt and remember a time in my youth watching my father, who had never heard of Alan Watts, D. T. Suzuki, or Zen, sit his version of Zazen drinking his coffee, smoking one of his ever-present cigarettes looking out over a campfire at the lake and being at peace and away from the “chaos of the rat race,” as he defined it.

Maybe being a Roshi is realizing that life itself is Zazen if you slow down and allow it to be. Today, I lifted my cup to a man who was my Roshi that I didn’t notice. I suspect we all have such untitled Zen teachers.

[nvm-illustration]

So my partner has enrolled in one of those 6 week intense boot camp things with a gym. 3 hour long work outs a week, along with a dietary regime.

I use the word regime, because part of this diet means very little / no carbs.

I've joined her in on the food thing to be supportive etc, I've been going to the gym, doing some cycling short runs to be supportive but my god.

Eating hardly any carbs is worse than quitting smoking.

[darkestaken]

while strelitzia is a vegetarian, THIS DOESN'T APPLY TO HER POKEMON. most of them are carnivores, and need meat to survive. she is very aware of that, and will go out of her way to get actual pokémon meat rather than in-lab grown for them. if she can, she will choose cruelty-free options, such as GALARIAN-IMPORTED SLOWPOKE TAILS and KLAWF MEAT STICKS, to name a few. she has a very specific dietary regime for her pokémon so they are the most well taken care of while giving them enough strength to fight.

she doesn't look down on people who either hunt for their survival or eat pokémon meat - although i see eating pokémon meat becoming more and more of a A RARE OCCURENCE, but i'll talk about this somewhere else.

point is, regardless of verse, strelitzia minds her own business when it comes to what she eats, and won't make a fuss about it.

[saiakv]

at what time do they generally wake up?

do they use specific perfumes?

are they a home-cooking kind of person, or do they rather get takeouts?

do they use specific ringtones depending on who calls them, or do they use just one for everyone?

do you think they'd have callouts about them?

do they dream often?

mundane headcanons || accepting, pretty please uwu

at what time do they generally wake up?

Suguru, in spite of being the furthest thing from a morning person, has somewhat forged himself into an early riser. It's a habit that dates all the way back to his investment in budo and training regime — during highschool his alarm clock would be set to 5am daily. Suguru associates a structured sleep pattern with self-discipline, so it was one of the first things that begun to falter alongside his resolve. After the SPV incident, Suguru's sleep schedule got severely messed up and although he manages to deal with it throughout the years, the quality of his sleep never recovered. He enjoys the quietude of early mornings at the cult temple.

do they use specific perfumes?

Albeit carrying himself with intent, Suguru typically places more value on being prim, rather than accessorizing. So he generally smells of fresh laundry and deodorant, at times with a dash of cigarette if he's fresh from a smoke after he picks up the vice. He gravitates towards delicate, subtler scents like musk with maybe a spice of sandalwood. Perfume as in fragrance is something he would reserve for a night out or a special occasion -- and in that case he might opt for something a little more daring but dab it on his wrist rather than spray liberally. Later on, as he withdraws from society, his characteristic smell becomes more earthy and natural, with notes from his kiseru tobacco and, at times, sanitizer.

are they a home-cooking kind of person, or do they rather get takeouts?

Suguru views cooking as a necessity rather than a pleasurable activity. He is, however, very nurturing as a person, so he would enjoy cooking as a means of taking care of someone else's needs. He's not particularly skilled, but as with anything else in life, he applies himself to it mindfully. He's the type to ask for any dietary restrictions before he does. During highschool he would opt for takeout with friends, but after leaving Jujutsu High he quickly developed a distaste for anything made by non-shamans, eventually leading to his refusal to consume anything they had touched. ( the girls still order at the temple at times, though there might have been a few cases of missing delivery people that got mistaken for ambitious suitors )

do they use specific ringtones depending on who calls them, or do they use just one for everyone?

For most of his life as a phone-owner, Suguru has been the kind of person that leaves the ringtone to standard. He appreciates the subtlety in it. Under critical peer pressure from his friends or family, he would consider assigning them a song he associates with them, maybe, as he does enjoy music in general.

do you think they'd have callouts about them?

Yes. Next question.

do they dream often?

For Suguru, his dreams are often influenced by the curses he consumes. That doesn't necessarily guarantee more nightmares, but it does mean he tends to dream more often than most people might. It makes him a bit of a rowdy sleeper but other than that it was never an issue for him, as the curse has been consumed ergo its reflections were less of a domain-like experience and more like looking into a domain through a kaleidoscope. Because of that quirk, he was equipped to deal with the nightmares that came from Amanai's incident. Suguru had a streak of repetitive such nightmares with a theme of drowning to death. It was a distinct dream that he held to memory even after it stopped coming to him -- he has assigned a meaning of rebirth to it. (copium)

[lonesomedreamer]

SNW Liveblog: “Charades”

In which Ethan Peck gets to have some fun, the writers also prove they know nothing about Vulcans, and the last fifteen minutes redeems the whole episode.

What exactly is “sub-impulse speed”?

God dammit.

The fellowship only lasts for two months? What’s even the point?

I hate to complain about a female character working out on-screen—life in space would definitely necessitate some kind of exercise regime! For everyone!—but at what point in her TOS appearances did Christine Chapel strike these writers as the type of girl who spent a lot of time beating on the Enterprise’s punching bag? Maybe if we hadn’t just seen La’an in this exact same scene two episodes ago…

This…this outfit is almost mod! Earrings and all! I’m shocked. Give it some color and you’d be onto something.

In fact, all three girls (La’an, Christine, and Ortegas) are wearing black here. Why do SNW the costume designers HATE fun?

“Oh, things are kind of weird between them.” I don’t use this word lightly, but between her being mean to Spock for no reason last week and now casually betraying her friend’s confidence like this with a little smirk (while Christine is visibly uncomfortable): Ortegas is just a bitch.

Do Vulcans consider their emotions to be “suppressed”? And would M’Benga, Vulcan expert or not, really be able to teach the native Vulcan how to better control his emotions (when he’s been learning that his whole life)??? Do they ever think before writing, or…?

Or: canon only matters when the SNW writers want it to.

“My mother felt this would be best.” A lot of Vulcans on this show throw that verb around awfully lightly. It’s almost like the writers don’t understand Vulcans.

If T’Pring’s mother doesn’t approve, why were they ever engaged in the first place? (I know that this show’s never going to acknowledge that they were betrothed as kids for an arranged marriage. But that’s the canon.)

Bitch, please.

A sweet reversal of her sneaking a glance at him in the Turbolift earlier.

Them.

Spock, please don’t look at your girlfriend when you’re supposed to be steering the shuttle away from the “rupture in space-time”.

Oh, his hair is so much better this way.

Why is everyone calling Uhura “Nyota” all of a sudden? I get that she’s just an ensign, but it’s weird.

This sounds like a casual phone call rather than the first contact between the Federation and an unknown species. Up the professionalism a few notches, Pike.

He does not.

“Mixed instructions? You don’t mean Spock.” I’m no scientist, but it’s obvious they’re talking about his DNA—keep up, Mr. Starship Captain!

“Uhura, get ‘em back.” Maybe if Pike hadn’t stumbled over his words and had gotten straight to the damn point, this wouldn’t be a problem! Kirk and Picard would both have said, “Excuse me, but the way you ‘fixed’ my science officer was not correct” rather than mumbling and stuttering until the call cut off.

He is adorable. You can pry human!Ethan!Spock out of my cold, dead hands.

“My fiancee’s mother? She hates me.” My fiancee? She hates me. Fixed that for you!

“I’ve already spoken to T’Pring and to your family.” That is really crossing a line! Kirk—Spock’s undisputed best friend of all time/brother/soulmate/true love (however you see them)—didn’t know about T’Pring or even that the Vulcan ambassador and his wife who were coming aboard were Spock’s parents until he met them on the Enterprise. But Pike is just casually contacting Sarek, Amanda, and T’Pring without consulting Spock first?! It’s not like he’s in a coma! He could easily have waited and let Spock tell his family himself. Accidents happen in Starfleet all the time. It’s a dangerous job.

Spock always seems to be played by men with the best smiles. ♥

Not Spock drinking alcohol and eating meat! He’s going to feel awful about that when his genetic code is “fixed”! (His dietary habits are cultural, not biological—why would he want to change them with or without his Vulcan DNA?)

If this was a TOS episode, Bridge crew would still be working on getting back in touch with the aliens who did this to Spock…but we have to show Spock enjoying some crispy bacon instead.

Again, I think control is a better choice of words.

“You just need to work on impulse control.” I don’t think taking his Vulcan DNA away would invalidate/negate his years of intensive mental training. He had to work extra hard as a mixed-race child to be a “real” Vulcan, so in theory he should still have access to about emotional control. If not, he should have been stripped of his memories of childhood and whatnot, too.

Spock’s sass is coming out so strongly in this script, which is great, but he should always be sassy! (“Gentlemen, I am in command of this vessel, and we shall continue on our present course…unless it is your intention to declare a mutiny.”)

I’m sure Christine enjoys seeing a more demonstrative version of the man she loves, BUT I hope they also show that she’s mourning the loss of the true Spock. She’s one of the few who really sees him for what he is—half Vulcan, half human, wholly himself.

To culminate his total lack of respect for Spock’s privacy/boundaries, Pike announces that his mom is on board in the middle of a busy hallway.

This Amanda is a babe (though there’s no way she’s old enough to be Ethan Peck’s mom).

I love this nod to the classic “Spock wearing a funny hat to hide his ears” trope.

Could they not get a costume to fit this actress? Not shaming her at all—I’m intimately familiar with the struggle of finding clothes that look flattering with a larger chest! But this ain’t it.

Why is Pike even still here? At this point, Amanda’s business is with her son. Pike can butt out.

“The engagement dinner has been moved several times due to your Starfleet schedule, a fact which they are not understanding about—” A few issues here: a) It seems, well, illogical that a family of Vulcans refuses to understand why Spock’s professional schedule would postpone personal obligations; b) this is the first time we’ve ever heard about this engagement dinner, 15 episodes into the season. That wouldn’t be an issue if (as in TOS) T’Pring had just been introduced—but she’s now been in numerous episodes including the pilot. Yet somehow this has never come up before?

Also, bold of this show to expect me to care that their engagement might get broken when they’ve already faked the audience out about that once and when I know T’Pring’s ultimately going to dump Spock anyway…

Incompetence.

So T’Pring’s family disapproves of Spock’s career (and we know from previous episodes that T’Pring isn’t thrilled about it, either), but they agree to hold this traditional and (apparently) super-important engagement dinner on the starship where Spock works?

I don’t think “Spock, you’re human” would be a human mother’s natural first reaction here. Idk. I know Amanda’s been on Vulcan a long time, but we know she’s still very warm, very human, and seeing her son so changed would have to be shocking/upsetting/concerning, right?

“I couldn’t even fool you.” That’s kind of funny.

First of all: Spock can lie with the best of them. Secondly, I don’t think you can learn to be a genuinely good liar in a few hours. Finally (and again): his years of Vulcan discipline/training shouldn’t have been erased (he obviously still has all his memories and knowledge), so he shouldn’t have to lie at all.

Seriously, Spock doesn’t have amnesia! He was raised by Vulcans—he knows how they speak!!!

Okay, but…Spock can’t perform the mind meld, and Amanda would know that. I feel like she should be saying, “My son was in a serious accident and is in no state to socialize” but then someone else—maybe even Sarek—overrules her. That would still leaves plenty of room for drama.

Just contact the aliens for help! I’m begging you! This is Star Trek!!!

“We can’t do it, but we already know who can” Thank God someone on this show can keep up.

I kind of hate her. :) At least she didn’t make a snarky comment, too.

I am weak (even if this is the least-flattering Vulcan look I have ever seen on any version of Spock).

T’Pring has some funny lines re: her difficult relationship with her mother, and I guess it’s a nice parallel to Spock’s difficult relationship with Sarek. I can sympathize with her, but I refuse to like her.

There’s no way a conservative Vulcan couple would be satisfied with a human preparing the traditional food for their daughter’s engagement dinner.

The majority of Vulcans in this show continue to look like a parody.

T’Pring’s dad being a foodie is funny. Him being obviously subservient to his scary bully of a wife is unoriginal and not so funny.

They stole a shuttlecraft and no one even alerts the captain?

Christine being willing to do anything for Spock: canon in every universe. ♥

I get that they’re in “interdimensional space” and in a state of semi-shock as a result (understandably!), but why can no one communicate effectively in this episode, including Uhura of all people???

Christine’s straight-talk with the aliens is just making me angry that Pike didn’t speak up about their mistake when he was communicating with them earlier.

She’s stunning.

Spock being protective of/afraid for Christine is precious.

“During the accident, the other being diverted the shields away from himself to protect you.” Even though I’m unsure how that would work (isn’t the shield around the entire shuttlecraft?)—that is SO Spock and so adorable.

“Are you so obtuse that you don’t even see that [you have feelings for Spock]?” It’s always one step forward, three steps back with Ortegas…

The writers were kind enough to grant my wish: Christine acknowledges that a wholly human Spock isn’t really Spock at all. The writing is less than phenomenal, but Jess Bush really sells it anyway, and it alludes nicely to Christine’s heartfelt confession of love in “The Naked Time” about seeing Spock as being greater than the sum of his genetic parts.

I’m tearing up.

The scene where Spock tells T’Pring’s mother off and praises his own isn’t super believable/in-character, but it’s satisfying!

Once again: the Vulcans on this show use that word way too much…

They really have wanted T’Pring to always be the victim/wronged party in this relationship ever since the first episode. But why?! She’s going to leave him! In canon, she makes him fight his own best friend to the death to have her when she doesn’t even want him! No matter how they resolve the relationship in this show, it’s all drama I don’t care about!!!

T’Pring’s mother was overtly racist towards Amanda and Spock during the entire dinner; she doesn’t approve of him; and she told him that he deserved to be disowned by Sarek/didn’t deserve to marry T’Pring. She would probably continue behaving that way towards him for the rest of her life. But after he endured all of that for her sake and after she repeatedly warned him not to mess the dinner up, T’Pring expresses neither concern for Spock’s ordeal nor relief that he’s been healed/that the dinner was a success nor gratitude for what he put himself through. She expresses only disappointment that he didn’t confide in her.

Crying in the club.

There’s a lovely reciprocity to Spock and Christine’s dynamic so far—he kissed her in Season One; this time, she kisses him. He risked his life to save her earlier; then she goes back and risks hers to make him whole again. I know these writers are going to screw it up eventually, so I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Overall, this episode was way too long (a full hour!) and was bogged down with a bunch of nonsense in the middle in the name of comedy. Its dialogue in particular was just as poorly-written as most SNW scripts have been (i.e., “you look constipated,” “you messed him up,” numerous crew members mumbling and stuttering in the heat of the moment…these aren’t Starfleet professionals, they’re high schoolers!) BUT there was an extra helping of heart in this episode. Between Amanda Grayson’s tenderness towards her son, Spock’s protectiveness towards Christine, and Christine’s fierce loyalty towards Spock, I almost cried more than once. And since Spock/Christine is THE reason I started watching this show in the first place, it’s nice to finally see some payoff fifteen episodes in!

The Good: Ethan’s face without Vulcan make-up + his gorgeous smile!—a surprise Amanda cameo—Spock and Christine mutually being protective of each other/risking their lives for each other—some funny moments—Jess and Ethan both acting their socks off—really cool visuals during the “interdimensional space” scene—a few excellent costume designs—finally, the big kiss!

The Bad: Childish/unprofessional dialogue throughout—Ortegas being a bitch even to her friends—writing human!Spock like a teenager who forgot everything he knows about being Vulcan (even though his memories are in tact)—Pike’s total incompetence—name-dropping Roger Korby (ugh)

I can’t wait to see how this show is going to disappointment me in the Spockstine department going forward.

[sensiblelife]

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[howieabel]

“The ceremonial differentiation of the dietary is best seen in the use of intoxicating beverages and narcotics. If these articles of consumption are costly, they are felt to be noble and honorific. Therefore the base classes, primarily the women, practice an enforced continence with respect to these stimulants, except in countries where they are obtainable at a very low cost. From archaic times down through all the length of the patriarchal regime it has been the office of the women to prepare and administer these luxuries, and it has been the perquisite of the men of gentle birth and breeding to consume them. Drunkenness and the other pathological consequences of the free use of stimulants therefore tend in their turn to become honorific, as being a mark, at the second remove, of the superior status of those who are able to afford the indulgence. Infirmities induced by over-indulgence are among some peoples freely recognised as manly attributes. It has even happened that the name for certain diseased conditions of the body arising from such an origin has passed into everyday speech as a synonym for "noble" or "gentle". It is only at a relatively early stage of culture that the symptoms of expensive vice are conventionally accepted as marks of a superior status, and so tend to become virtues and command the deference of the community; but the reputability that attaches to certain expensive vices long retains so much of its force as to appreciably lesson the disapprobation visited upon the men of the wealthy or noble class for any excessive indulgence. The same invidious distinction adds force to the current disapproval of any indulgence of this kind on the part of women, minors, and inferiors. This invidious traditional distinction has not lost its force even among the more advanced peoples of today. Where the example set by the leisure class retains its imperative force in the regulation of the conventionalities, it is observable that the women still in great measure practise the same traditional continence with regard to stimulants.” ― Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class

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