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talky wrote:*****
akhilis2cool wrote:Good Morning***** ...
Change To Vegetarian ...
Over the past few months I have had a lot of people ask me why I became a vegetarian? I would ramble on a few minutes trying to explain exactly why I became a vegetarian, but I never really felt like I was giving a clear answer. So, I thought I would write it down.
I became a vegetarian early in 1997. At first I just gave up read meat, and it wasn't until later in the year that I gave up all meats, around the end of July. The results, well, I have so far lost 25 pounds (October 1997,) 2 inches around my waist, my cholesterol level has dropped, and my blood pressure has dropped. Along with becoming a vegetarian the majority of foods that I eat are organically grown.
So now I will give my reasons. There isn't really a single reason why I became a vegetarian. The reasons include health reasons (as described above but I will go into more detail,) environmental, and animal cruelty. At the bottom of this page I conclude my story and provide links to other information and other web sites.
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The benefits of becoming a vegetarian far outweigh not becoming a vegetarian. We are destroying ourselves, destroying our environment, and participating in the in-humane treatment of animals and eventually the mass slaughter of those animals.
I respect the ideas and beliefs of all individuals. If you chose to become a vegetarian, I salute you. If you don't chose to become a vegetarian, I will respect your wishes, even though I won't be able to understand your reasoning.
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akhilis2cool wrote:...
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Enjoyment As An Expression of Worship- Play was long regarded as the virtue of eutrapelia; philosophers have noted that we can deny most abstractions if we like – justice, beauty, truth, goodness, mind, God; we can deny seriousness but we cannot deny play. It is a reality found not only in humans but also in animals. Play is something we do freely – without constraint; it has a quality of a-partness from our usual occupations; it transports us into a dimension other than that of the daily humdrum. Play, therefore, has the power to make us forget ourselves; to take ourselves a little less seriously. It helps us to crawl out from under the world’s burdens which we are all too prone to assume.
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Simply Cool - This morning we got an email from a user in Germany who had read that Simply Hired was named one of Time Magazine's 50 Coolest Websites 2005. ...
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NR ... Non-Resident ... Non-Returning - ... Cool ...![]()
"I 'm an immigrant.I straddle cultures,juggle identities,and carry labels.The INS (Immigration & Naturalization Service) calls me Resident Alien,The IRS (Internal revenue Service) calls me Permanent resident, Americans call me Indian and Indians call me non-resident Indian,Serveys call me Asian-American,and job application if I have a Green card.I got my Green card, the process took 2 years and a cost about $ 5000.00, I spent hours filling forms that the INS routinely sent back asking for more documents,yet another birth certificate..a local Police Station took my finger prints to check if I had a criminal record, a clicnic designated by the INS gave me a complete physical, including an AIDS test and sent the results in a sealed envelope.A grave look immigration officer in Hartford Conecticut, opened the envelope, asked me if I had ever been arrested, if I had worked illegally before stamping my passport.My green card,which as it turned out,wasn't green,would follow.
Like most immigrants I came to America in search of opputunity.I was tired of the India's caste prejudice and century old traditions.My father had waorked for 20 years before he sould afford a car.I wanted a car, may be even 2.I wanted a home, to live the American dream.I wanted to go from rags to riches and I didn't want to wait for 20 years for all that to happen.Naturally I came to America. The nerve-ending expanse of choices in this country fueled my ambitions, lifted my spirits.Here, I could achieve anything, become anyone, except perhaps the President.The realization was exhilating. What I also came to realize was that with every choice came a sacrifice with every achievement I was losing a little of my identity. Lifestyles choices that came so naturally to the folks back home became agonizing decision for me. Should I stick to the Indian community in the U.S, or should I make American friends, knowing that I could never be one of them? Should I wear colorfull Indian clothes that I love or should I quit wearing them in public because I 'm tired of being stared at? Should I keep my hard-to-pronounce Indian name or should I Anglicize it, like many Chinese had done? Should I celebrate chistmass, a tradition that I didn't grow up with, or should I ask for a day off from work to celebrate Diwali, the most important indian holiday? Should I stay in this country, or should I go back home? Every Indian dreams of going back home.
The isolation that is part of the immigrant culture, combined with the stresses of being a foreigner makes us nostalgic for the familiar sights,smells and sounds of Home.
America, however seduces us with the promise of wealth and the "good life". Most of us succumb and stay put. Every now & then, there are nasty incidents.Like the "DOT BUSTERS"---a gang in New Jersey that identified Hindus by the dots on their foreheads and attacked them,and then attacked anyone who looked like an Indian. Like the svlete brunette in an exclusive Manhattan soiree, who drawled that "immigrants had spoilt California" for her. Like the strangers I encountered one snowy night."Go back to where you came from" he hissed. Well I felt like telling him, if each of us said that to each other, the United States would become empty...
And it also lose its sense of balance. What immigrants..particularly from the East---have given the United States is a sense of balance. They bring YING values to a very YANG culture. They temper the swinging pedulum with sprituality, and bring it to a Buddhist Middle Path. Into a land of excess, they bring in values like contentment and letting go.
To mix some metaphors,they keep the melting pot
from running over. Another thing that immigrants offer is perspective. When people ask me about starving children in India, I tell them about the paradoxes in this country. The media tells us that incest, rape, and other crimes against children are on the rise in the U.S. Yet the very same people who abuse their children will wait politely in the line for a school bus, to pick up children! I find that Hypocritical. Fielding question is part of being foreigner: Where are you from? Why are you wearing a dot on your forehead? Does your name mean anything? Do people still on elephants in India? Who'll be your roll model? The questions drum inside my head like Paul Simon in the album, Graceland. Sometimes I get so fed up that I make up the answers or lie outright. But then when I meet an "exotic" person, I find myself asking the same questions. I suppose it is a part of being human to make connections and establish roots.
What many people including me forget that a person cannot represent an entire country. For a long time, my behavior at every instance was examplary. I was always polite because I didn't
want Americans to think that Indian were an impolite race. I always delivered 120 percent because it would help another Indian get hired. Routine acts became deliberations. Simple choices became political dilemmas. If a white person tips poorly, then he or she is a poor tipper. If I do the same thing, I 'm poor tipping Indian. So, never mind the bad service, never mind the lousy food. I have to leave the good tips. Otherwise, the next Indian that eats here will automatically get lousy service, because the waiter will think that all Indians are poortippers.
I 'm sure every minority has gone throgh the guessing and second guessing that comes with
being stereotyped. After a while, it get to you. Being an ambasador for my country became too much of a burden.I began to resent it. These days, I try to be myself--failing, rudeness, warts and all. It is difficult,because ,at some point, I know someone is going to watch me slurping my soup, or doing something equally "rude", and think that all Indians don't know table manners. My father--a poet & philosopher--once asked asked me....Why I had decided to live in the United States? I thought about it for a moment and said, Dad, I want to be a writer.If my books sell to the American Market, they will sell all over the world. Once I become a succesfull author here, I can move back to India and still successful. My dad smiled. "Whatif you become so successful that you forgot what you wanted to say? he asked...Confusion and loss are my crosses. I will have to bear them, Even if I can go back home."
- Shobha Narayan, A New York based writer
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