Coconut Scared Me

This is the coconut that I hacked opened. Never again! Never again! I need a coconut opener. When I am rich, I will hire someone just to hack open coconuts for me because I am afraid of the thing. Until I win the lotto, this food option is out of the question for me.

Coconut Incident of 2010

Last Friday, I opened my first coconut.

One, the whole idea of opening a coconut scares me.

Two, I had to use a knife to hack at the thing, which scared me because I had to get pretty violent with the knife, and I did not know how to hold the coconut in a safe manner.

Three, when I did open the coconut, I spilled half the water on the table; I had to suck it up and lick it up with my mouth off the table (yes, I am that cheap). After that, I could not drink the water that came out of it.

Four, I could not completely open the coconut. I wanted to use the meat to make a raw-vegan maki roll. After the hacking of the thing, the slurping up of spillage, the storage of the remaining coconut water, and then the clean-up. I felt grossed out. I still have the coconut water in my refrigerator; I trashed the coconut without harvesting the meat.

Five, I need someone to teach me the ways of the coconut because I cannot learn it from watching a video, or reading a book. I need a real, live person to hack the coconut, pour out the water, then prepare a meal from the meat.

Six, When I was in my early twenties, I tried to open a coconut, but ended up cutting myself pretty bad. I did not go to the hospital, and maybe I should have because when I went to work the next day, my supervisor Cami Chan had me see Ming (Color 2000’s first aid man). He spoke little English, but he did ask how I did it. I told him, “I was drunk, and I wanted to open a coconut, so I tried and almost sliced my finger off.” Ming disinfected it and gave me some antibiotics while he gave me a lecture, in his thick Cantonese accent, about using knives when drunk. He wrapped my hand, and gave me some bandages & meds to take home.
So Friday, I had some flash backs even though, I had one of those young Thai coconuts. It has been 18 years from the first coconut incident to the one of 2010. I can still see the mark between my ring and middle finger on my left hand.

Too many Hobbies

Ah, the first post of the month. Since school has started, I realize that I have too many hobbies. I’m doing the yoga, the zumba, the hoola, the guitar, the raw vegan eight week experiment, reading about food, creating recipes. It is too much, and my grades are starting to be affected. So, I have to let something go. Besides school, I am doing classroom observations (I’ll tell you about that--I met a vegan at the community college), which is at 8am. So, until I l get my hours done and feel confident in my reading, I have to change my extracurricular activities, so I am keeping the hoola and switching to salsa (that class starts at night). I will exercise a minimum of five days a week. I will do yoga on my own in the morning. I feel good.
But the real problem is the television. I am addicted to the noise. I cannot do my work at home—need to find a place near my home that I can go to, sit, and do my work for like five hours without getting kicked out. There is the bibliotheque, but the one downtown is not a place I feel safe at in the dark. So, I think I’ll try the one near the malls.

Pissed about my Grade
I guess I am upset because I got a check for my grade, and not a check+. Why the hell grade with these symbols when there is a legend at the bottom of the page that tells what each check symbol means? Why not give the letter grade? I knew it was going to suck because of the quote the instructor wants us to begin our reading responses with. I hate that! I really, really, hate starting my text with someone else’s words. Plus, I take notes for response. I have to cook for a while before I formulate my response.
I tried to talk to the instructor then she asked if I wanted to talk about it right then. I was not about to talk about my personal private stuff in a public forum (my classmates are still in the fucking room). Remember, English students are always trying to prove how smart they are—competitive. I have to find a new place to sit in class because I cannot concentrate. Most of the time, I don’t pay attention anyway. I just nod my head, and act like I am paying attention.
Now that I have whined about it, and made my excuses, I can get on with it.

Delta Community College
Yesterday, while I was walking at a rapid pace to make it the class I am observing on time. I saw this kid ( late teens) standing in the pouring rain with a stack of booklets that he was handing out. Something inside of me said, “Oh, look there is a vegan” then another part said, “No way, here, in meat central, he’s probably handing out some type of Christian literature.” So, I decided to give him a polite, but firm “No” if he spoke to me, or tried to give me one of his booklets. My defenses were up; I walked by, and he tried to hand me something. I said, “No thank you” and start to speed-up my walking pace.
Then as I was almost away from him, he said in the gentlest voice, “It’s for the animals.”
I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and said “It’s for the animals?”
I saw his face light up and he smiled brightly, “Yes.” I walked back to him, and took one of his booklets. He was with Vegan Action, spreading the word about the oppression and the violence farm animals endure, and the reasoning behind a vegan diet. My instincts told me this guys was a vegan. Another lesson on when I should listen to my little voice.