A day in the life of a vegetarian, tree-hugging, hippie.

Friday morning, my alarm clock 'alarmed' me after I apparently reached my snooze quota, causing my alarm to shut off as my eyes also remained shut. Miraculously, or maybe anticipating the next alarm and preparing another slap to the snooze button, I awoke only to notice the time. As quickly as the night seemed to pass, my heavy eyes found their focus and I frantically raced out of bed, did my morning rituals and headed for work. All in 15 minutes time. Thinking back, I idiotically ignored the message my alarm clock attempted to deliver -- just stay in bed! You see, the following events of my Friday morning simply reflect the realities of my eco-anxiety (it's true, read about it here: Eco-Anxiety) and what its like to be a vegetarian, slightly to the left east-coaster in Pomeroy. Enjoy my perils.

* * *

Back in September when I first arrived at the clinic, my co-workers immediately initiated me into their weekly ritual of "drink Friday" (the stimulant kind, not the depressant). As you can imagine, it took some serious arm-twisting. An excuse to have a weekly chai from Meyers? Tough decisions... Anyways, considering the already eventfulness of my morning, I desperately needed my aromatic, soothing cup of cleverly blended steamed soy milk and spicy goodness.  So as I patiently waited for my drink to place itself into my hands, Paula (one of the nurses) stops by my desk.
"So whatcha drinking today?" she asks.
"A soy chai, of course!" I proudly reply.
"Ohh, that's that hippie drink right?" she seriously questions. I can't help but laugh. I think to myself, "it's going to be one of those days." And I couldn't have been more right on. As Susie crossed the threshold into our back office, before I could repeatedly say "Thank you!" a dozen times, she tells me  I have a message. Curious, I inquire, "Oh?" She merely smirks as she hands me my chai, and my eyes are drawn to the graffiti on the lid of my cup.

I chuckle. Only in Pomeroy. Immediately two faces come to mind when I ponder who scribed this message. And merely a few minutes later, the culprit walks through the door and asks, "So did you get the message on your coffee?" I reply, "Yeah, Josh, thanks for the note."

* * *

Probably at the same time the soy milk for my chai was being steamed, I found myself also getting steamed. But not in the scolding, burning sense. More so on 'the rage' (as my EC community service superstar friend, Steph, would say) scale. Let me preface the next event by telling you about the white, Lloyd Center Clambake reusable bag that has sat under my desk since the first day I settled into my office space. It's purpose you ask? To collect recycling, of course. First off, one would think Washington, of all places, would be all gung-ho about recycling, right? Well, the west side, aka Seattle, takes recycling to all kinds of intense levels. The east side? Yeah, not so much. I witness plastic bottles get alley hooped into the trash like they belong there. Side note: the alley hooping usually only happens when I'm around. It's sort of a way to kind of ignite more of 'the rage' or simply for entertainment as they anticipate my reaction, which usually goes sort of like this. "Did you seriously just throw that away?" I say with a 'uh, hello' facial expression. Followed by my hand reaching into the trash, grab the bottle (or whatever it may be), and carry it with me until I can place it safely in the Lloyd Center bag.  Honestly, most have caught on to my quirks and began adopting my ways, well, usually only when I'm in their presence. Susie and Lisa most always defer their recyclable materials to me. But then there's Jeff, who finds pleasure in poking fun at my "eco-terrorist" ways. Oh, and Andrew who had the audacity to throw away the 50 or so paper-planes created in a module right in front of me. But don't worry, the second Andrew released his hand causing the planes to crash land in the trash, I spoke up, without thought, "Are you serious, Andrew?!" I caught him in plane (HA) sight. I then spent the remainder of the module unfolding each of the planes and still use them for scrap paper. He still makes paper planes and throws them away after each module. One day...

Gosh, I'm getting off topic. It's all relevant, though. Right? So, Recycling. Yes. You see on Thursday I peered under my desk to notice my overflowing sack of sundry papers and bottles. I thought to myself, "I should probably take care of that." Needless to say 5 o'clock came around and I left, forgetting to take my nifty recycling bag, but knowing it would be there in the morning... or so I thought. Because for the past six months I've been at the clinic, no one has ever touched my recycling bag... even when it surpasses its capacity, overflowing into my leg space. So while my chai was being steamed (bringing it all together again), the cause of my steaming rage came because I looked under my desk only to find my bag... empty! Now there's only one other person in our office who properly disposes of recycling, and thats Suzanne. She's actually the one who will notice my overflowing bag and ask if I'd like her to take care of it. However, she left before me the day before. When she came in on Friday, I got straight to the point, "Good morning, Suzanne. Did you take my recycling by any chance?" She replied no and told me she noticed it needed to be taken care of, but didn't touch it. My thinking wheels began to creak as they turned, I felt myself getting warmer. Susie noticed my distress, "What's the matter?" But before I could answer her question, I answered my own question of "what happened to my recycling?" I raced out the door to the trash bin outside. I opened the lid and under a bag of actual trash, there lay all the papers, cardboard, and bottles I so diligently saved. Susie, right behind me, uttered, "Uh oh. Why would they do that?" I didn't understand. As my own way of protesting, I went inside and grabbed my Lloyd Center bag and gloves. With the help of Susie, we salvaged all I could reach. I went up to the front desk to report my findings to Jeff, and with no surprise, didn't get too much sympathy. Rather, he told me I probably create a bigger carbon footprint by driving to the recycling bins. Tough crowd... At the end of this whole ordeal, the recycling finally made it to their proper disposal area thanks to Suzanne.

* * *

And lastly, the vegetarian issue. Well, this month marked my one year of being a vegetarian, or pescetarian if you want to get specific (being a New England native, I can't resist fish... well, when I'm there that is).  Naturally coming to a place where hunting takes precedence over just about everything, the whole "I don't eat meat" thing usually takes awhile for people to understand. The conversation typically goes something like this,
Them: "So you don't eat meat?"
Me: "Nope."
Them: "Not even beef?"
Me: "Nope, thats meat."
Them: "You eat chicken, though?"
Me: "Uh, no. Thats also meat."
Them: "How about elk?"
Me: "Could you just pass the salad, please?"

Now that most people I know understand that being a vegetarian means not eating beef, chicken, elk, quail, etc., they accept it. Well, thats unless you're like Josh who came into the office Friday afternoon with some buffalo chicken wings. Not only did the stench fill the office, but he made it a point to ask me which way I thought the leg used to be attached to the chicken. He made it clear that he enjoyed every bit of it by saying every few minutes, "Oh, this is so good. Are you sure you don't want some?"


And that concluded my day. Needless to say, I was ready to go home and make a nice vegetarian meal.