7:30 in the morning, last night’s toke aroma still lingers in the air. And again, I resist my inherited hippie urges. Today needs to be productive like yesterday. My alarm went off an hour ago but I’m still not fully awake until I have a shower and my cup of Folgers.
While my roommates eat Kirkland bacon and sausages, I feign disinterest. Instead I munch down a faux bacon, Kale, tomato, cheddar and scramble sandwich. Normally I’d have oatmeal and a toasted peanut butter sandwich but I left myself more time than usual that morning; I was able to show out. My mates weren’t going to mock me then eat better than me too.
On a full stomach, bacon and sausage has no pull over me. I grab a banana and granola bar on my way out, blocking out the omnivore scorn thrown my way. “I hope you don’t pass-out on your way to school.”
“How was it eating grass for breakfast.”
“I hope, haha, you don’t wither away on that rabbit diet of yours.”
Whatever; next! Like Kendrick said, “Bitch be Humble.”
On days that I eat light, I tend to buy a strawberry, kiwi, fresh fruit smoothie with a B12 supplement — a vegetarians diet lacks B12, the stuff meat eater’s bodies are swimming in.
Don’t panic if you haven’t started buying trunk fulls of the stuff from Cosco. The body stores plenty of reserves from our meat eating days as a youth.
CSI was made for dinosaurs, or Aztecs or kingdom of Kush assassins because very little sympathy/empathy/recourse is shared for us veggies. So let’s sidestep the cafeteria for a bit, which is its own form a vegetarian purgatory, and start with the book store.
The bookstore, besides the glorious amount of after chronic foods like PB&J, Ben & Jerry’s pints, an assortment of chips and candy (right on, by the way, to whomever is responsible for that). But other than junk food, there isn’t much in the way of food-food.
There is cereal, but that is just more pot food, there are cheese pizzas, none with vegetables though, so, again, more pot food. The only vegetable soup they sell even has meat. Campbell’s seasons it with beef stock. The only thing remotely vegetarian (and simultaneously “healthy”) is the tomato soup. Good luck getting full off of that.
Now it’s 1:30, and like usual, I’m not about that tomato soup life. My metabolism needs fat or I’ll wither away. Where’s the protein also? So the book store is no bueno. The cafeteria is my next bet unless I trek up the way to Starbucks for caffeine and pastries. Tempting. But no. By this time, I’m desperate to fill my tummy. Milling the campus has worked up an appetite. I submit and head to what I’ve labeled Purgatory.
I walk through the 1C turnstiles, avoid the shifty cafeteria security guard (what’s his deal by the way; he always looks like a cagey shoplifter).
Who dat ni**a thinkin’ that he frontin’ on Man-Man? ~ Kendrick Lamar
Here it gets interesting. I’m flooded with indecision. There’s the grill immediately to my right. I have several options here. Hot macaroni and cheese, fries, mashed potatoes, peas and carrots are all on display conveyor belt style — starches or more starches. Still better than tomato soup.
Choosing to eat either of those would be fine but I head toward the back where the salad bar is instead. The poverty prices are more my style. Trust, the best deals are found at the veggie bar.
I like making a sandwich from the bar toppings instead of buying their $10 dollar salad. The toppings are either 50 or 75 cents. I usually get either garbanzo or kidneys beans, then Emeril Lagasse a bit of broccoli on that bitch, with grilled red or green peppers, topped off with onion. Yum.
“My left stroke just went viral.” ~ Kendrick Lamar
If I’m feeling rebellious, I’ll throw on some olives as well. But rarely because olive’s flavor tends to overpower everything else on the sandwich. I do wish the cafeteria carried pickles. That’d be dope.
Dinner is always the roughest time away from home because I like to mix it up just like anyone who eats meat. It’d be boring if I ate the same thing over and over each day.
So the cafeteria is out if I had food there earlier in the day. This is when I hit up the take-out menus. Having a campus in the middle of the island is convenient at times like these. I pretty much have the pick of whatever cuisine that delivers. But hopefully there leftovers stocked in the office fridge. One always has to have their wallet in mind. Financial dieting is a most during these tired times. *A moment of silence please*
Whether I have Italian with marinara or Chinese with garlic sauce, Taiwanese with peanut oil, Japanese with wasabi and soy sauce, Halal and falafel, or Greek with sweet potato fries, the possibilities are incredible but rich.
8:30 at night, and on as full of a stomach possible given my extenuating circumstances, I head home after heavy edits at the Banner. Once again, I breath in the second-hand ganja-babe from those I share rent and utilities with as I walk into the door; it’s like I never left. I tune out the inherited bohemian telling me to toke. Tomorrow needs to be a productive day too.
I eat a toasted peanut butter and banana sandwich instead.
By Jeremy L. Pasker