A Short Tribute to Mr. Adams

Yesterday, Richard Adams died. Many might not know who he is, and his death might be overshadowed by Carrie Fisher’s extremely sad passing.


But my sadness lies primarily with Mr. Adams. He changed my life without me ever meeting him. His words in the famous “Watership Down” helped me through depression and even through high school (that’s when you know something is seriously helpful). I read this book at least twice per year, and every time I read it, I learn more about the world around me and about myself.


“Watership Down” is an adventure story about rabbits. Whenever I try to explain what it is about, it’s hard to truly encapsulate the many messages put forth by Mr. Adams. The story may revolve around rabbits, but it has taught me more about bravery, friendship, home, death, and the true meaning of life than any story about humans I have encountered. Each time I read it, I am overwhelmed by a sense of serenity, as though it is helping me exist in this dangerous, scary world. Continue reading


A Rant About Finals


This is not going to be very structured or intelligent, but I don’t have the brainpower for that right now.


Why, you ask? Well, it is finals week! It is the week where my intelligence and self-worth is determined by having exams and final papers in all of my classes in the span of 4 days.


I’ve never understood this set-up of showing what I have learned throughout the semester. How am I supposed to put 100% of my effort and knowledge into studying for an exam for a class, or writing a 15 page final paper, when I have 5 tests and papers due within 2 days of each other? I could have definitely performed better on so many tests that I have taken and so many papers I have written, but I was incapable of giving any more energy or time than I did. I was too busy studying for all of my other tests and writing all of my other papers to do any more than I did.


And forget about treating myself like a human being. I get 4 hours of sleep per night. I eat exclusively sugar and grease. I have my period, and I have horrible cramps and back pain. But I can’t think about that, so I pop Aleve and sit in the same uncomfortable position for 12 hours straight, and I get angry at myself because I have to get up for 10 minutes to change my fucking tampon because that is 10 wasted minutes of study time. I get mad at myself for being hungry because that means I have to abandon my space in the library and give up a precious 30 minutes where I could have been studying. I get mad at myself when I sleep in until 9:30 because I could’ve been studying, I could’ve been writing, I could’ve been productive, I don’t deserve to sleep. God forbid I take a break to watch a YouTube video or check my phone, because if I do I feel such guilt and dread the entire time that I panic and immediately get back to work.

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I’ve Known Since I was 5: An LGBTQ+ Stereotype

One of the most damaging stereotypes about being LGBTQ+ is the belief that all LGBTQ+ people know from a young age that they are LGBTQ+.

While this is often true for many people, it’s not for others. Many people (both LGBTQ+ and cisgender heterosexual) believe this idea wholeheartedly, and it actually invalidates many queer and trans* experiences; it can even lead to people invalidating their own identities because they didn’t discover this identity or part of themselves until later in life.

Double Rainbow.. all the way

As a young kid, I didn’t think about sexuality or gender in any way. I was just being me. I was a “tomboy,” but to me that was just who I was. Attraction and gender didn’t even enter my mind; I was too busy playing Runescape and worrying about whether Harry would defeat Voldemort (spoiler: he does). When sexual attraction did enter my life, I was attracted to men. This is still true, but it turns out that I am also attracted to women. But, did I know this in middle school or high school? Not at all. I was so oblivious to my sexuality; I assumed all girls had a crush on Katara from Avatar: the Last Airbender, dreamed about dating Emma Watson, and felt tingly when hugging girls and boys. Looking back, I was so, so, so bi. But I didn’t know.

Me in the black shirt with the attached tie. Soooo queer. So unaware of it.

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Tofu Scramble: A Vegan Delight

Ok, so the last couple weeks’ posts have been pretty serious and heavy. Well, this week isn’t any different.


This week, we are talking about eggs.


As a vegan, the one food I really miss is egg. I get so nostalgic just thinking about waking up in the morning before school and smelling the scrambled eggs cooking, or the delicious smell of butter and fried eggs at the greasy diner I would go to with my friends (even though I would always get a stomach ache after eating there).

You can feel the heartburn just looking at this.

Nothing I can eat now really replaces egg. I can make veggie burgers that would fool the most devout meat eater. I can make a vegan cake so moist you’ll wonder how I did it without cow juices. I can create the fudgiest, most perfect brownies out of beans. You can’t even imagine what I can do with a sweet potato. I’m pretty much redefining a creation story over here; Genesis can’t compare to what I can do with a zucchini, some soy milk and a spice rack.


Fried, scrambled, poached, hard-boiled, soft-boiled, sunny side up: these are descriptors of such a unique and amazing food item that even I can’t recreate it.


But, life goes on. We try. I try. And I make Tofu Scramble. Now, some vegans like to say that this is, “just as good as scrambled eggs” and that, “it tastes just like eggs!” This is false. It does not taste like eggs. Not at all.

Photo from forkandbeans.com

But it is still tasty. Just because Tofu Scramble doesn’t taste like scrambled eggs doesn’t mean that it doesn’t taste damn good! (Especially the way I make it).

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Confused Gender Rambles

I was in the middle of writing a post about making tofu scramble, but I just couldn’t finish it. I don’t want to be disingenuous and continue to write something that I don’t care about (right now, anyway). I’m not in the mood to make a joke about how “eggs-cellent” my recipe is. I want to write what I feel. Writing when you have something to say is always better than when you are writing what you think you’re supposed to say.


So, I’m writing about gender today. And I have honestly never given gender much thought, besides being an ally for trans/non-binary/genderqueer people. I feel rather informed about the subject, but I never really considered it to personally affect me.


But now I’m not so sure, and it’s making me feel weird. I feel so many conflicting and differing things that I don’t even know what I feel. Excitement at the possibilities of who I could be combined with depression at not knowing who I am sends me on an endless cycle of questioning. I feel cripplingly lonely, but I also have the love of my life who makes me feel so incredibly happy and loved. I’m happy and sad, I’m confused, I’m scared, and I’m excited. All at once. Yikes.


It reminds me a lot of when I was trying to figure out my sexuality. I knew I wasn’t straight, and I knew I wasn’t gay, but I didn’t really know anything else you could be. The sorts of “middle” sexualities that are under the bi+ umbrella are not as defined in our society. Or when they are, they are belittled or stereotyped to seem horrible, inherently sexual and, overall, lesser than the binary sexualities. I would spend hours agonizing over how I felt, wishing that I could “just be straight” or “just be gay,” because then it would be ‘easier.’ At least I would have one category to belong to, and at least people would understand and accept being gay (again, I’m not saying this is actually how it is, but this is how I felt at the time). Being bisexual was so hard for me to accept, not only because I didn’t really know anything about it, but because I subconsciously knew that being bisexual had it’s own struggles and obstacles that were so much different than the ones for monosexuals.


I feel like I am right back where I was 2 years ago when I was agonizing over being bisexual. I started watching a lot of videos on YouTube back then to help me figure out my sexuality, and it’s no different now with gender. I’ve been watching so many FTM transgender videos on YouTube, and those videos made me start thinking about my own gender. But yet again, I feel stuck. I don’t feel like I am trans, as I don’t really feel like a man. But I don’t feel like a woman. But I also don’t feel agender either.

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Hillary Clinton lost because she is a woman

I can’t say anything that millions of other people haven’t already posted on both social and traditional media.


That being said, here are my thoughts:

  • Hillary Clinton did not win because she is a woman, and we live in a misogynistic country/world.
  • Hillary Clinton did not win because we are living in a country where the racism that stems from times of slavery is something we have still not overcome, and Donald Trump used this to his white male advantage.
  • Hillary Clinton did not win because people with privilege voted for Johnson and Weld in battleground states. Both of whom, by the way, admitted Donald Trump should not be president, but still did not drop their candidacy. (Rachel Maddow on third party votes in this election: “If you vote for somebody who can’t win for president, it means that you don’t care who wins for president.” It also means you have the privilege to have risked the possibility of a Trump presidency without fearing for your life and wellbeing).


While I believe in all of those points, what I can speak to most is the issue of gender. She did not win because she is a woman. People were quick to say that Bernie would have won against Trump. I don’t care about their subtle differences or why people justify this statement. It’s because he is a man and she is not.


You can say she is unlikeable for a myriad of bullshit reasons. But the reason Hillary is seen as unlikeable is because she is a woman in politics. Her flaw is the fact that she has a vagina.


Donald is a man who is going to appear in front of a judge in a month for the charge of raping a 13-year-old girl.


Half of this country would rather see a woman raped and abused than see a woman as the president. Half of this country would rather not talk about women except when it comes to violating and controlling them. Half of this country expects the other half to respect and accept the outcome, even when they for the past 8 years have shouted, “Kill Obama” or “Fuck that N*****” at the President of the United States. Half of this country believes that a rapist, a misogynist, a racist, a homophobe is “as bad” as a woman whose “secret emails” detailed her asking her staff to print things for her and asking what she could do to help a divorced, uneducated 10-year old girl in Yemen. Half of this country expects the other half that has been insulted, subordinated, abused, raped, and discriminated against to respect the man (and the group of men supporting him) doing the insulting, subordinating, abusing, raping and discriminating.


My heart aches for all of those who will be affected by the outcome of this election; it aches for my queer brothers and sisters; it aches for immigrants; it aches for women. But I can’t stop thinking about one woman: Hillary Clinton. She did not by any means have to run for President. She knew the backlash she would face, and the criticism she would endure. She has endured it throughout her political career, just as women all over the world endure abuse and criticism just for being women. But she ran anyway. She did it to help people. She wanted the job, and she worked so fucking hard for it. And what happened to her happens to less privileged groups daily: white maleness overpowers all else.


The world doesn’t have to be this way. Keep fighting, keep writing, keep learning and keep educating.


I’m with her.





Vegan-Cranky: an Introduction

I suppose it is appropriate to explain what the title of this blog means, because you’re probably thinking it means: “uh oh crankyvegan.com was already taken.”


While that assumption is partly true, there is a reason for the name “Vegan-Cranky.” Here’s the definition:



/vēɡən kraNGkē/


ill-tempered or irritable because of vegan dietary limitations.

“She is vegan-cranky because the only vegan option at the restaurant is stuffed peppers.”


My girlfriend coined this term after she noticed that I display this behavior at least once per day. It usually involves the following scenario: First, I enter a dining establishment. At my school, that means the dining hall, the small school store, or an area we call “The Pit” (yes, that is really what a place that serves food is called). The Pit, which is particularly disgusting, offers various fast food options and a really sad, wilted salad bar. Then, I look around and realize that all I can get is french fries, salad, or cereal. I start to get annoyed and proceed to point at non-vegan options or people eating non-vegan foods and say, “I wish I could have that” or, “It would be nice if I could eat that.” I keep complaining as I pay for and eat my salad. That is a textbook example of someone being vegan-cranky.

What my school thinks being vegan looks like, probably

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