I’ve had a hard time writing these past few days. I am not sure why, exactly. I think part of it has to do with all the stuff going on in my life, but, really, that’s a load of crap because we all have “stuff” going on all the time. So, really, I should never be able to write anything. That’s obviously not true. There must be something else going on, then.
I love writing. It feels good to do it. I tend to chuckle when I read some of my humorous stuff again. I get all pensive when I read some of the more thought-provoking reflections again. I can pretty much write (and talk, really) about anything given very little notice. I suppose I can play a game by ripping a headline from the news and writing about that. That would work. It would give me material about which to write. But that’s not what’s keeping me from my keyboard.
I think the real reason I’m struggling is because my brain is scrambled. No, I’m not taking hard-core drugs. I’m not drinking excessively. I have not sustained a physical injury. My brain is just…scrambled. I suppose it’s more accurate to say that my thought processes are sub-optimal at this particular juncture in time resulting in the overall cognitive net effect of my brain being or given the appearance of being or substantially causing to give the impression of being…scrambled.
What causes the human brain to become enscramblified? I will tell you what does: dairy. That’s right, dairy products cause the brain to become scrambled. Cheese and ice cream, to be exact. Cheese and ice cream.
How can this be? How can cheese and ice cream cause a grown and educated man of 40 years to suffer from such a brain-related affliction? I have a master’s degree, you know? I am a Master of Business Administration or an MBA, as it is known. I also have a Bachelor’s degree. I hold a Bachelor of Arts degree in Anthroplogy. I really do. A BA in Anth, and an MBA. How do you like that? Impressed? You should be. I would have a “minor” degree in Human Development and Family Studies, too, but the department didn’t offer such a degree when I was in school. I think they do now. I suppose that’s evidence that I was more dedicated than the next cat because HE or SHE got a carrot for their troubles. I didn’t get shit. I just got the satisfaction and experience associated with dedicating that much time to a subject I found fascinating. So there.
And, seriously, I hold a “Master” sorta degree for Business just because I spent a few years going to classes? What about the whole “10,000 hours” thing? I didn’t spend 10,000 hours studying and practicing an art. It didn’t take me 10 years of experience to get me where I needed to go. It took me a few hundred hours and 3 years to get that degree. I’m not dissin’ the degree, mind you. You should still be impressed. I’m just saying…maybe “Master” isn’t the right term, you know?
ANYWAY, back to the cheese and ice cream. My brain’s scrambled, and it’s making it hard for me to write. I think I know the reason why, too. You see, I am 40. At 40, as I’ve mentioned before, I am looking ahead at the decades I have left and asking myself, what now? What now? This line of questioning has had the very peculiar effect of making me examine everything through a lens of cheese and ice cream. Cheese and ice cream. I have to tell you: cheese and ice cream do not make a great lens. Of any kind, in any way.
Cows make milk. Humans take cow milk and make cheese and ice cream. Cow milk is food for baby cows. When a cow becomes a mommy, it makes milk. It makes milk because the baby cow requires milk to survive. When the baby cow is just a few hours old, it starts drinking it’s mommy’s milk. This goes on for a while. Then, a human comes and takes the baby cow away. They attach some metal tubes to the mommy cow’s nipples (called teats) on their boobies (called udders), and a machine starts sucking milk from the mommy cow. They do not give the milk to the baby. Instead, they add chocolate powder to it and make ice cream. They also let some get old and make cheese. Yay, cheese! Long after the baby cow even needs it, the metal tubes keep sucking the milk out of the mommy cow. But don’t worry, the baby is off to a feedlot, anyway.
If the humans are not careful, the cow gets an infection in their teats and udder from all the milking called mastitis Some cows get gangrenous mastitis which can lead to necrosis of the tissue. Google it. Look at some pictures. It’s disgusting. If you think they catch all that and keep it out of your milk supply, you’re nuts. Thank goodness for pasteurization, huh?
So, there you have it: cheese and ice cream. I love cheese, and I love ice cream. They are so damn yummy. But cheese and ice cream are made from the nourishing, life-giving, love-fluid created by a mommy cow for it’s baby. We take that away from the baby and keep it for ourselves. We keep so much, in fact, that we artificially extend milk-producing period for a post-partum cow. Milk, milk, milk.
That’s the source of the scrambling. I think about the cheese and the ice cream and the baby cow and the gangrenous mastitis…I think about it all and wonder, “What the HELL are we doing, people?” Who decided that drinking the baby food of another species was a swell idea? And who decided that treating animals this way made sense or was humane in any way? Don’t cite the Bible, please. There is nothing in there about chocolate cookie dough ice cream, I promise.
Chances are, I’ll eat cheese again in my life. And ice cream. That’s what scrambles my brain. There are the things I know and the things I do. Every now and then, they don’t line up, and it scrambles my brain. I am 40. There must be more lining up. Perhaps I have decades left. Even if I do, time will slip away from me. It already has. I’m 4 months into 40.
At 40, there must be more lining up.
Speaking of scrambled, have you ever read about what they do to chickens…
Illuminate Possibilities 