And I'm still as stupid as anyone, but I know my mistakes

Recently, my mum posted me in the mail a vegan cookbook and it has to be said – this cookbook may be my first true love. I spend approximately half an hour every evening in an almost meditative state reading the recipes, writing myself shopping lists and pondering as to what exactly some of the ingredients are. This half an hour is often followed up with a call to Kathleen, who is Abby’s mum and the most amazing cook I know. For 15 minutes I chat with Kathleen about the ingredients that I am unsure of, where I might procure them and how the final meal might taste.

The recent arrival (and endless bragging) of this cookbook has sparked some not so pleasant and thinly veiled remarks from my friends about my apparent “veganism” and my “not-so-fun-anymore-ism”. It’s not often I feel as though I have to defend my choices (or my right to choose) to anyone but this weekend, some remarks that were made cut me a fair bit.

I’m not Vegan. I’m not Vegan because my boyfriend is Vegan. I’m not even close to Vegan. I’m Vegetarian. I’m not Vegetarian because my boyfriend is Vegan either. He has little to do with my lifestyle choices and little influence over me. I am Vegetarian because late last year I watched a documentary on the treatment of animals that broke my heart and made me physically ill. I don’t have any milk products because I am lactose intolerant, and I’m a bit funny about eggs. I ensure that I buy beauty and laundry products that aren’t tested on animals because I see it as unnecessary cruelty. I was Vegan from the age of 15 to the age of 19. I might (and probably will) be Vegan again someday, but it’s my business… not anyone else’s.

I’m simply trying to minimise the cruelty inflicted on animals and the damage to the environment caused by the lifestyle choices that I make – So that I can sleep better at night.

My “not-so-fun-anymore-ism” is something that is brought up after a glass or two of wine, it’s said in jest but I think it’s unfair to suggest that someone isn’t as much fun anymore because they aren’t drinking as much. I’m still making the same jokes, I’m still doing the same stupid things and I still find the same things (mainly cats and seals) hilarious and entertaining. My closest friends know that I don’t have to be drunk to fall in a drain or be harassed unprovoked by someone or make some stupid decisions. I am more than capable of doing all of this and dancing like a fool completely sober. I just don’t like getting drunk anymore. It’s not nearly as much fun as being coherent enough to pick on the drunks.

You know, people change. It’s not a crime to do so. I’m just surprised that my friends are treating me a bit like a criminal for it. In my mind, it’s a much more serious crime to go along in life and not consider the implications of your lifestyle and choices on your health, the environment and the people around you.

a mother's joy.

Last night, my mum came into town for dinner. I rode home from work on the park avenue, about 30 metres from my house I could see my mum waiting anxiously outside my house. I rang my bell and she looked up, smiled and waved.

As I turned my bike around and pulled up outside my house my mother clapped, cheered and whooped loudly with utter delight. It was as if I were six, and riding without training wheels for the very first time. I hopped off my bike and she hugged me and did some more clapping. then she hugged me. rinse. repeat. rinse. repeat.

I was incredibly embarrassed at the time. My face was scarlet and I wanted to get her off the street and into where she could continue cheering without my new neighbours witnessing my mother behave in a mildly manic way.

After we had dinner and she had long gone, I was thinking about how happy she was to see me ride my bicycle up the street. She's seen me ride a bicycle a thousand times, but everytime it elicits this response from her. She claps and cheers like I'm about to win gold.

I'm not sure why this makes her as happy as it does, but it's nice to think I'm doing something that makes her proud and happy.

cmx

you're my wonderwall.

For Christmas last year, I received some wonderful Christmas presents, but the glace cherry on the Christmas fruitcake for me was two tickets to Ryan Adams & the Cardinals from Brendan.

I utterly adore Ryan Adams (I’m fearful of simply calling him Ryan for fear of further taunting) and I have for years. His albums have been stand out soundtracks to some of the more difficult periods of my life. Cold Roses was the soundtrack to a break up, Love Is Hell is the soundtrack for my ongoing grief, for a period I even preferred lying in bed listening to his albums than talking with my friends. It has to be said, Ryan Adams has been a consistent and loyal companion in times of woe.

In the midst of my month of great upheaval, the impending show was at the back of my mind. It crept up on me very quickly, and before I knew it… it was that very evening. January was a terrible month, plagued with unrest, house hunting, work issues and moments of utter despair. This time, the soundtrack to my drama was Fugazi’s Repeater. I listened to that album on repeat when I was anxious, when i couldn't sleep, whenever I was riding between house inspections and on my way to work. By the end of January, I had moved house and settled into my new home, I had something very important back with me, things had settled at work and life was back to how I like it. Ryan Adams was the perfect closer to a month that tested me. I stood (and sat, and stood again) and was able to enjoy the set without a worry in the back of my mind. No feelings of grief, no woe… just a truckload of happiness and relief.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Ryan Adams in the last few days and it seems the association between him and feelings of sadness is abating, and a new link between his music and feelings of happiness seems to be forming… It has to be said, I’m very fond of the idea of our relationship stepping over to the sunny side of the street.