Sunday morning ramble

Speaking of China, kind of, the Dalai Lama was here for a while, and you could see people in red robes and sandals all over (ironically) Chinatown. Ironically, only because that's where the Verizon Center is. I bring this up only because a family friend, who once forwarded cheesy Dalai Lama inspirational quotes now, having lived with a Chinese roommate, has turned 180 degrees against him. That's too strong a statement--she was never necessarily for him, just never gave the manner much thought. And my standards for forwarding anything have always entailed giving the matter thought.

I say this in a broader exploration of the concept of family friends--and by extension, the concept of family. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty careful about who I let into my life, for better or for worse, and--not immature political opinions in and of themselves but the propensity to broadcast them--is a huge deterrent for me. Does that have a narrowing effect on my interpersonal circle? I'm certainly glad this family friend (who is not, by the way, Russian) is in my life. But I wouldn't have thought to bring her in myself; she wouldn't have made it past my filters.

Hers was the first birthday this weekend of which I joined in the celebration. As with family, I found myself in the tiresome position of defending my food choices, and, unlike with my mother, it caught me off guard because I really thought she got it. I mean, I went to see her in the hospital a few months ago and, when she got out, explained some nutritional basics (because it's not like the hospital could have set up a meeting with a nutritionist before discharging her??). I gave her my detox book, and she really got how toxic sugar was. So then why does she argue with me when I turn down a drink she got whose first ingredient (after water) is added sugar. But it's organic! It doesn't matter. But just have a little bit. I don't want to. There's no point.

This all unnerved me--by 'all,' I mean there was another argument about a cheesy spinach artichoke dip ('but just have a little bit!' followed by 'fine, well, if your diet is that strict.'). It unnerved me because I thought she got it, and, being obese, she needs to get it. It being, it's not about 'have a little bit as a treat.' It's not like I'm not going to have a little bit because I'm afraid that I'll gain ten pounds overnight. The issue here is (besides her still not knowing how to read ingredient labels and look out for what's important) seeing my "diet" as some sort of restrictive thing from which it's nice to occasionally take a break. I want her to understand that once you get used to eating well, you don't *want* the things that make you feel icky, and added sugar and dairy make me feel icky.

And my "diet" is not that strict (and by this I don't mean just that I find plenty of vegan food to eat and it's amazing, so much better than the crap that people buy). I "cheat" when I need to (and by "need," I mean what I said about India--it wasn't like, "yay, an excuse to eat dairy;" it was more, "I guess I'd better eat dairy."). And last night I had a mini pumpkin muffin--at another birthday celebration--because I hadn't eaten in many hours and while they had lovely fruit and vegetable trays, even I can't go on fruit and vegetables alone. I don't feel guilty about it, and I'll even admit that it was tasty, but I'm telling you about it just to say that I'm committed to veganism but not obsessed by it. I don't care about one-off excursions (but I do not seek them out). But I keep coming back to this: I'm sick of being put in a position to justify what I choose (not) to eat. And I'm not going to take how-to-eat advice from someone who's obese.

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Last night's birthday celebration started with going to see Harry Potter. I'm not here to tell you it was really good, even though it was, but I did want to impart some observations about cinema in general.

I spend a lot of time in theaters and much less time in movie theaters, so when I sat down in the seat, my gut reaction was, "holy $hit! this is comfortable!" Then, once people started engaging in the same antics they do in theaters, only on a greater scale, it hit me that those antics are actually acceptable in the movie theater: it's not bad form to crinkle candy wrappers (although it is equally annoying). And the guy sitting next to me--a friend of my friend--couldn't get through the two-hour movie without opening his phone, the light from which was distracting.

Afterward, we retreated to the HP-themed party. I didn't know anyone but my friend, and people were very nice, but they also all, overwhelmingly, belonged to the same church and knew each other, so I decided not to engage that many people in conversations, and instead to wait to have my palm read by Prof. Trewlawny. And let me tell you, she was amazing. She totally read me. I tell you all this because she picked up--from my palm--my introversion (need for alone time, etc.), but she was spot on about a number of other things that she just couldn't have guessed or interpreted from looking at me. It was wild.