Why I’m Writing a Novel

20,000 words in so far. It’s about our human race. Our duties, our responsibilities, our doom, and our hope. It’s about how we treat each other, and how we treat our planet, our only home.

The “sick to death” incidents below happen almost daily. Am I really that different? Is my way of thinking really THAT radical?? But it doesn’t matter really, because I won’t do a thing differently. Self righteous? No. Earth righteous? Yes.

Here’s a little rant just for stopping by.

I’m sick to death of people looking at me cross-eyed because I don’t eat meat or participate in the destruction of animals in favor of flesh on every corner, four course dinners, ridiculous cooking shows, and the ignorance of people who have zero reason to be ignorant.

I’m sick to death of people  who say “I love animals” then proceed to eat them, enslave them, shoot them, or  wear them on their backs because those aren’t the furry, cuddly ones.

I’m sick to death of people looking at me cross-eyed when I ask where the recycling bin is, or suggest canvas bags over plastic, or even, heaven forbid, (sub rant), you put the goddam shopping cart in the corral. (I watched a woman spend a good 5 minutes trying to prop the front wheels of a cart on a little island next to her car rather than walk 1.5 minutes to put it away. She’s just thinking of you fellow humans)

I’m sick to death of people looking at me cross-eyed when I infer their diet might be the cause of their illness, discomfort, autoimmune disorders, etc.

I’m sick to death of people looking at me cross-eyed when I protest visits to SeaWorld, or any parks (or zoos for that matter) that employ animals for entertainment. We’ve become a people of entitlement, all of us a people who take. And take. And take.

I’m sick to death of excess, disregard, and arrogance.

Orca populations in Washington are dying of starvation. Starvation. They eat salmon. They have to, its their primary nutrition source, it’s not yours. But its humans that are the cause.

The protest of the Dakota Pipeline goes largely unnoticed, and by our presidential candidates as well. Shame on them. But after all, Native Americans don’t have any say, right? RIGHT?! Money does, right? AMIRIGHT??!!!

You disappoint me humankind, to no end. In my novel, my characters, whom are all over the globe, will have the task of deciding the fate of our human race. I have run out of patience for a people who whine about everything yet do nothing. Out of patience for people who just don’t care, who’ve heard the evidence but just don’t care. Out of patience for feeling like the odd man out because I DO care.

Maybe you don’t want to know. Well, you better know. Because if Earth goes, we go, and then all that worshipped money won’t mean a damn thing, even though it doesn’t mean a thing now. Not. A. Thing.

What matters are mountains, prairies, and forests that provide oxygen and homes to wildlife. That wildlife keeps Earth in balance matters. Oceans and tides that dictate our weather matter. That the atmosphere that provides our protection matters. The way we treat each other matters.

Tree hugger. Green Panther. Eco Freak.

All of the above. Fuck yeah.

Here’s a list to open your eyes:

Before the Flood

An Inconvenient Truth

Earthlings

Forks Over Knives

Food, Inc.

Racing Extinction

Blackfish

The Cove

I love you, but I hate you. Tell me I’m not alone here. I have yet to write the end of my novel and decide whether or not to render humans extinct. But I fear I don’t have enough reasons to save you.

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