Apartment 303

Photo via Chinese Garden Scene

Rain drops trip from leaf to leaf on the trees outside my bedroom window. The constant buzz of insects rings in my ear, a harmony to the hum of the air conditioner down the hall. A faint breeze from the doorway kisses my cheek as I quietly wait for the temperature to become sleepable. My limbs rest heavily on the mattress, still warm from the rays of the afternoon sun, smelling slightly of pool water from today's dip.

Tonight I will fall asleep 2,015 miles from apartment 303, and a world away from the academic life I have left behind. Back on the east coast, in the bedroom that was my only piece of the world for 18 years, I have returned to begin the newest chapter of my life; one which involves a full-time job search, the rediscovery of my hometown and the city to the south (where ,with any luck, I will be relocating), and the anticipation that only uncertainty can bring.

It was somewhat sad to see apartment 303 packed up into suitcases and boxes, stacked in lonely piles next to the backdoor stoop, awaiting an alleyway pickup. The unit was my haven for the past year, and the place where so much creativity bloomed. But I have lived enough to know that places and possessions serve only as the context we give to experiences - the tangible assets that help us to quantify and make physical our emotions and experiential memories.

And so it is that I look forward to whatever will come next. While I may have said goodbye to the physical apartment 303 in Denver, it is with my whole heart that I embrace the less tangible essence of what apartment 303 stands for. Apartment 303 is about learning continuously, exploring indefinitely, and finding peace and true satisfaction in the simple things - exactly what this blog is all about.

Food Inc.

I went to the movies this afternoon with my good friend Julie to see Food Inc. and I am so happy we did. The film is a documentary about the food industry in the US. As much as I would like to think I know more than the average American about industrialized agricultural processes and factory farms, the film was an eye-opener for me in many ways. Filmmaker Robert Kenner does a great job of investigating some of the biggest issues of the current food system - including the commoditization of animals, the corporate structure of agriculture, and the political aspect of food safety. What was shocking to me is the extent to which corporations have exerted power over the farmers they contract, the fate of seed cleaners and non-contracted farmers, and the control of regulatory bodies such as the FDA. You can learn more about the film and ways you can act at the Food Inc. website. 

I highly recommend seeing Food Inc. - and if I had my way it would be compulsory for all food-eaters (that means you, dear reader!). We all have a right to be informed about the food we eat, including where it comes from and the conditions from which it arose (especially for any omnivores in the audience). While the trailer below paints a bit of a gloomy picture, the film concludes with an important and optimistic message about the importance of our individual choices at each and every meal. 

Note, Food Inc. is currently showing in independent theaters in Denver (we went to Chez Artist) so you may have to look beyond the main blockbuster listings to find a venue near you. Given the discussion of food, now seems an appropriate time to solicit questions for a post I hope to write in the next few weeks. As many of you may know, I have been vegetarian for about two years now and vegan for the past year and half. Since I get lots of questions about what that means and why I embrace this lifestyle, I'd love to answer any questions you may have. If you'd like to submit a question or concern, just go ahead and leave a comment below this article or shoot me an email and I will address it in the upcoming post. Thank you in advance for your input! 

Rain in Denver

Photo via Country Financial

It has been raining all day in Denver, an uncommon experience. Several inches washed the earth in the past 12 hours as though by a child, fleshy hands fumbling with an oversized garden hose, fingers slipping under the pressure of the handle, water trickling at first then pounding with the force of a gun only to diminish once more as the kickback proves too powerful for five-year-old strength.  But every effort will not change the city. Long days of sun drenched heat and blistering light are not soon forgotten; the imprint of arid months past is impenetrable.  As I walked home this evening the rain had yet to cease, only slow to a negligible pace, and yet the pavement was drying before my eyes – patches of pale, sandy sidewalk quickly conquering their damp, glossy counterparts.