The T-Shirt Destroyer

Every time I purge through my closet, I come across a shirt that, despite the fact I've maybe never worn it more than once, I decide to keep. I bet everybody has some of these shirts: the shirt you bought on a trip, a shirt you bought at a concert, and, of course, a shirt for every group and club you were ever a part of.

I have over 60 of these vacation/club/event t-shirts just hanging up in my closet. I don't wear them because they are too large and boxy. I do kind of care about my appearance in that I don't want to look like I'm a little kid wearing their parent's clothes for dress-up. You know what I mean?

It has definitely put a cramp in my simplifying style to keep all of these shirts, and yet I can't just let them go. So now I just have a bunch of shirts just waiting to be made useful again. 

Luckily, there is a wealth of DIY T-shirt project tutorials on the internet that teach you how to make your t-shirts usable and wearable again. One evening, I decided to give the DIY craze a shot. I chose one that seemed simple enough: cut down the sides in a curved pattern, make some fringes, tie the fringes down the side and viola! I've got myself a fitted t-shirt!

Not-so-luckily, I am apparently under the false impression that I am a crafty person.

Needless to say, how the shirt was supposed to turn out and my finished product did not match up:

I pretty much ended up with a mutilated t-shirt. It was completely unusable as an article of clothing by the time I was finished with it. My first mistake was probably attempting this at 3am in the morning. My next mistake was using scissors that do next to nothing in the cutting arena.

So, that T-shirt is now various rags that I use to wipe off dust on my furniture. At least it's sort of useful?

It's a good thing I used a "test" t-shirt this time around, so I didn't ruin any of my more "precious" t-shirts. However, I'm still stuck with my original problem combined with a new fear of these "easy" DIY projects.

Should I recruit someone with a sewing machine to make a quilt out of the t-shirts? Since t-shirt fabric is hard to work with, is it even worth the effort? Do I even care about these shirts anymore?

While I ponder what to do with these currently useless materialized forms of memories, I should probably figure out what, if anything, I should collect as token of remembrance instead of more t-shirts. My uncle collects shot glasses. A good friend of mine collects coffee mugs. My dad had a short stint of collecting fridge magnets. What do you collect?

~AM

The Missed Photograph

One morning, I saw one of the most gorgeous sunrises I've ever seen in my life. However, my thoughts were not of wonder and awe. Oh no. I flipped out because I didn't have my camera to take a picture of it.

Instead of just enjoying the sight before me, my need to have a picture of everything awesome I see in nature got the best of me yet again. I missed my chance at a great photograph. At the time, I usually carried around my camera wherever I went, just in case a sight like this made an appearance before me. If only I had not forgotten my camera on this day! Then I could take a picture of it...then....what?

After that day, I started wondering why a photo was necessary....and why I had such anxiety over not capturing that sunrise on film (or I guess a digitized file). I don't really look at photos after I take them. In fact, my panic at the thought that I wouldn't have the sunrise captured forever on photo brought to my attention that I take such scenes for granted.

I have found that cameras don't actually preserve memories of nature, but trivialize them. Had I had my camera on me that morning, I would have snapped a quick photo and went on my way. I would feel great that I can look at the picture later and enjoy it on my time. Screw nature's time.

Without my camera though, I am forced to appreciate the details of the scene. I have to use my senses in order to "capture" the moment. But, what happens if I still don't capture that moment? What if my memory is very, very terrible?

For instance, I don't really remember what that beautiful sunrise looks like. For a long time that really bothered me. I'm a little more okay with it now. I know that it was a unique moment, and I missed my chance to live in the moment and enjoy it.

Photographing nature also has a whole other added problem of dictating what nature is "beautiful" and what is not. I admit, sometimes the macro setting on a camera can give me an entirely new look on some aspects of nature. But what is left out of frame and why is that not the subject of the photo? A website lauding the importance of photography in bringing forth the unseen asks "what would we see without it?". What would we see indeed. 

I don't carry around my camera with me as much anymore.  Even when I take walks in the prairie, I have to tell myself to ditch the camera and make do with my own body. I would rather feel the moment with all of my senses than have a million pictures of beautiful sunrises and frost-covered trees preserved forever in a 2D sensory-lacking existence.

AM

The Meat Eater

Food issues are my my passion. If there is one thing I want to make a difference in, it is how we produce, think about, and eat food. It blew my mind when famous chef Jamie Oliver said that people were dying because of the food they eat. How messed up is that? Food is supposed to nourish us, not kill us.

So I do my best to make a difference in the food realm, but it has come to my attention that... maybe I'm not doing a good enough job?

I shouldn't be surprised, but my interest in food issues leads people to believe I'm a hardcore vegetarian or a vegan. While I am not scarfing down steaks every meal of the day, I am indeed a meat eater. I love meat. It tastes delicious. I tried going vegetarian. I was miserable, unhappy, and actually not very healthy. "You're doing it wrong!" I hear a few of you saying. Seriously though, I get physically very ill if I go without meat too long. I really believe that there are some body types that need meat. But now is not the time for that specific discussion that will inevitably turn into an ugly debate. 

I have been educated and informed about my choice to eat meat- especially meat produced in large feedlots. I know of all the terrible things that happen to the animals I eat before I purchase it. I know about the living conditions in the feedlots, the antibiotics and food the animals are given, and the slaughtering process itself. I know about the unethical conditions workers in the animal food processing industry go through. I know that even if I buy ethical meat,  I should still be eating lower on the food chain anyways. Also, ethical meat still means killing animals, and I love animals.

And yet, I still eat meat. Maybe I need a baby cow to just...come up to me and talk to me or something. 

.....you get the idea. So what's a meat-eating, food justice oriented individual to do? Am I supposed to make a long term pledge to gradually make myself a vegetarian or something? Is that what I'm obligated to do?

I mean, I would say I've made good progress in HOW I eat meat. I definitely eat less of it. I make an effort to support "good" meat that is raised ethically and sustainably. I also have switched over to eating meat "in season" (poultry in summer, pork/ beef into fall and winter). A side effect of all this is that I appreciate the meat I do eat- I'm not mindless, but mindful of when I am eating meat. Traditional meals ranging from grill-outs to thanksgiving are also more special because I'm eating not-in-season meat during those times. 

So at least I'm trying to be responsible about my meat consumption. 

But I still eat meat, and most of it is still not-so-good for the planet. "So why do you eat meat? Why are you being so terrible, AM!?"

You got me, I guess. The best answer I can give at this point is that perfection is only for deities, gods and goddesses.

Also, don't tell me to just shop at organic grocery stores and it'll be all right. Choosing better food to eat is a little more complicated than simply shopping at the right place. For example, take a Co-op: you can buy products from local farmers and get food that has been raised and grown well. This is super great!....even if it is super expensive. However, I hilariously caught myself actually thinking that buying Annie's Organic cheddar bunnies at the Co-op is healthier for me...because it's at the Co-op! It turns out it is NOT the healthier route, just a more expensive way to get a stomach ache.

*sigh* I'll get the hang of this "eating" thing one day. 

AM