Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: facebum

Vegan Musings

Yesterday my boet was in town and we went out for lunch. I chose Massimo’s in Hout Bay because I have never been and I know that they have an omni and special vegan menu. I had a most delicious vegan pizza (my only mistake was adding vegan cheese to it; horrible, unmelty coconut oil flavoured lumps) and everyone’s food was good. They even had a selection of vegan wines to choose from. I like that. It was all expensive. Eating out is expensive which is why I don’t do it that often.

It is so important for me that being a vegan isn’t about having to spend more money on food. Eating out is an absolute treat. Buying ingredients is not about buying expensive meat or dairy substitutes. In fact the only thing I don’t resent spending money on is cashew nuts, after discovering how they grow when I was in India.

Although I adore the brilliant sharing of information, recipes and advice on social media, the curse of belonging to Facebum vegan groups is that they can be both judgemental and snobby. This is a problem when vegans are trying to convince the average Joe that being a vegan is both accessible and affordable.

So when I am Facebum invited to a pop-up dining experience at R450 a head, or I read about a vegan high tea that costs the same as my weekly veggie purchase, I get a little antsy. When I read that soy milk is out and almond milk, at double the price is in, I do have a bit of a knee jerk response that omnis who might want to transition would find that off putting.

Big Friendly and I popped into De Waal Park on Saturday. I dragged him because I saw on Facebum that there was a vegan bake sale on and I wanted to support it. I want to support as many vegan initiatives as I can so that they continue to happen. I didn’t tell him that the teeniest crunchie and minute lemon poppyseed square cost R40. The poppyseed cake was ok. Big Friendly didn’t even remember to eat the crunchie I bought for him. It was too small to notice on the kitchen table.

And I am left feeling a little grumbly. This is what I think. Animal based protein is expensive. If a restaurant needs to ‘veganise’ a recipe they are leaving out the most expensive part of it. Vegan dishes cost less to make than omni ones. Soy milk costs only a teeny bit more than cow’s milk. Anything with cheese in should be more expensive, not less expensive than the non cheese version.

We vegans should be able to convince people that veganism is not a pastime for the well-heeled. But we need to demand that it is more affordable.

 

Taking Sides


I woke up nauseous this morning. At first I thought I was physically ill, but the minute I turned on my computer and went to both Facebum and twitter in two different tabs but simultaneously, I felt the bile and my temperature rise.

 

Of course I see what I follow. This morning it was, in no particular order, the Israeli defence force’s slaughter of unarmed marchers, the bombing of Syria, a racist conflict on an aeroplane, a few incomprehensible decisions by Donald Trump, the glorification and vilifying of Winnie Madikizela Mandela, the mountains of plastic polluting our oceans, the online abuse of women, nasty jokes about vegans, vegans abusing dairy farmers, and pleas to donate to gay rights, animal abuse, the Palestinian cause, making theatre, and a sick child.

No wonder it feels like end of days. The thing I hate about social media is that it is devoid of nuance. Everybody is shouting and everything is so extreme. It is like living with the volume button stuck on rage. Everything is about taking sides. And if you are on the other side of anything you are open to abuse, from the side it looks like you are against.

I started feeling a bit frantic. The feeling carried on while we walked the dogs; Linus seemed to be a bit under the weather.

And then I came home and I saw that the seeds I had sown, literally, in the tiny patch of soil in our weenie front yard, had started to spring up. Poppy seeds make the tiniest green sprouts, smaller than an ant’s head, and there are the tiniest tomato shoots growing from where tomatoes fell off the miracle tomato vine that grew by itself and yielded the most delicious and unusual pear shaped cherry tomatoes, and I think I saw some sweet pea shoots (maybe).

I am not going back to social media today. I am going to buy special dog food for Linus. I am going to water my shoots with grey water, and I am going to a live discussion and meet up about whether there should be a creative policy around BDS in support of Palestine.

I will just post this link on FB and twitter so you can read about it and take sides.

Facebroek

It is confession time, and it’s not funny. I am addicted to Facebum. I can’t help myself. I detest it and cannot live without it. I make up the worst excuses about why I need it; networking you know, publicity for my work, the best way to support my causes, to express my point of view, blah blah blah. Puhleez. I am addicted. Plain and simple. I log onto Facebum at least three times a day. It is on my phone. It is on my phone!

There are people on Facebum that I only have relationships with on Facebum. Some of them are people I don’t even know, or like. There are people I have forced myself to unfollow, if not completely unfriend, and I will still obsess about them, particularly if they have posted something that outraged me. There are those I tolerate (old bigots I feel sorry for, punsters, bad spellers, and even the odd over sharer), and those I cannot (racists, sexists, supporters of the Israeli government and Donald Trump). Then there are those I judge; even for stupid stuff, like liking a Lionel Ritchie song.

I hate every youtube video of people falling downstairs, every picture of an abused or starving or bleeding or dead animal. I despise slogans on sunsets. I hate being reminded of people’s birthdays (even though I am deeply grateful for the reminders) and then having to decide whether I care enough to wish them in five words, or whether they deserve a whatsapp message or even phone call. Sies.

I despise with a passion the temporary rainbows or flags with which we are coerced into showing our support for this or that thing, or disaster or cause.

I hate the ‘intelligent’ advertising that knows I need a new frying pan, or that knows I secretly looked for holiday accommodation in Zanzibar.

I hate the FOMO and the nostalgia and the TBT’s and Humpdays and yet, there I am. Daily. (I wish. More like at least 3 times a day).

It’s a disaster. I’ll quickly update my status about it.

facebum

I’ll admit it freely. I am a facebum addict. (For those of you who don’t know, facebum is what I call face book.) I mainly go there every day to change my status; I collect lists of one liners and then stick them up. I find it quite amusing. I also play Scrabble (and even Lexulous with my US friend). I am not very good at trawling though information about my facebum friends, but I like the way it keeps me up to date with who is doing what where.

And then there is twitter. I’m trying people, I’m trying. But I just don’t get it. It was the subject of a heated debate this weekend, but I still don’t get it.

So between email, twitter, facebum, my blog and my cell phone (which I hate!!) I am techno’ed out I tell ya.

I’m off to rehearse. With real live people. I’m going to ask them how they are, face to face. I’m going to see their actual faces and hear their real, natural voices. It’s gonna be real!

facebum

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