First world problems

Is it racist and/or offensive to tell someone he looks like Lin-Manuel Miranda? Because there's a waiter at Vans who looks a shiteload like him and I mean that in a good way - I think LMM is fiiiiiiiiiine - but it feels vaguely racist in the vein of that Seinfeld episode where George thinks his black boss looks like Sugar Ray Leonard.

I opted for silence. Always the safe choice.

Things I miss out about not living in my neighbourhood right now:

1. Breakfasts at Sayers. Okay, yes, I have still gone to Sayers several times since moving out two weeks ago but when I lived on the same freakin' street as this lovely cafe I was there... a lot. I miss my chocolate muffins and reading the paper before work for no reason other than I needed a little pick-me-up.

2. My running park. I run several times a week and most of those runs, with the exception of a weekend long run, used to be taken at a local park. Not only was this park the perfect distance for a 7km run it was always busy, even very early in the morning, so I felt safe. Now I run along the beach, which is nice and all but somehow feels about 100 per cent more creepy. Plus it's always windy as shit, what's up with that?

3. Being close to my life; the cafes and shops, friends, my library and gym. My whole life is set up around my old 'hood and frankly driving 20 minutes at 5.30am to get to a body pump class on the other side of town really isn't happening. Not today, anyway.

4. Proximity to work. This isn't even just about the daily commute, although that is a bear, but the convenience of being able to pop home in my lunchbreak when I forget my lunch, meds or laptop, which... seems to happen a fair bit actually.

5. The twinge of hope I get coming home and thinking maybe, just maybe, Mr Whiskerley will have found his way home today.

Disclaimer: Lest I sound ungrateful I should mention that my lovely brother-in-law and his wife are doing Andy and I a HUGE solid in allowing us to stay in their home while we're between houses. Seriously, I am endlessly grateful and not being able to stuff my gob with chocolate muffins five times a day is a very small price to pay.

“you’ll be han solo, i’ll be boba fett. I’ll cross the sky for you”

Via Rainbow Rowell this is just terrific

Eat me

People sometimes ask me why I'm veggo - after 15 years it's really only people I've just met - and I usually mutter something about "animal welfare" and insist that it doesn't bother me at all if they want to order a steak sandwich (which it seriously doesn't). 

The truth is that animal welfare is a huge part of it but there's also another element to my decision that I find hard to articulate. It's the reason I wouldn't eat a chicken even if it's spent most of its life running around a field, happy as Larry. The way I usually describe this element of my reasoning, assuming the person who asked hasn't moved on already, is that I don't want to cause pain/fear/death to animals if I don't have to and in 2016 pretty much nobody has to eat meat. But today I came across a sort-of lovely line in an old Jack Monroe column that said it much better for me.

Quoting an old Indian cookbook Monroe wrote: 

Ayurveda, the ancient Hindu wisdom for health, is described by Panjabi as the single greatest influence on Indian cuisine. “Flesh has the force of violence in it, and the negative emotions of fear and hatred … it has no place in the sattvic diet.”

Bammo, that's so very much it for me. I can no longer imagine sitting down to a nice piece of chicken or steak or bacon - however much I do from time-to-time think fondly of the taste and the sheer bloody ease of eating meat - without thinking about the pain and fear that had brought the meat to my plate.

Of course I'm vegetarian, not vegan, which makes me a hypocrite but if I can't be self-righteous and hypocritical on my own tiny blog then where can I be?

Hamilton Mash-Ups

Via Theatre Graphics.

The least professional thing I said to a work contact today:

"Uh I'm just going to pick up a Nutella doughnut while I'm here."

I regret nothing.

Bad life choices I made today:

Eating approximately one-quarter of a jar of sun-dried tomatoes for absolutely no reason. And I don't meant I ate them as an accompaniment to crackers or cheese or anything that would make sense. I ate them with a fork, right out of the jar like a savage and it was not beautiful.

Dear Andy Samberg,

I fell for you in Celeste and Jesse Forever because that is my idea of a perfect romantic movie and I love the fact you're with Joanna Newsom but when you are like this my love for you finds a way to grow deeper.