Not Awesome

I just learned about this tool yesterday: Wayfaring.com. Very similar to Frappr, which seems to be more well-known/more used in the blogs I read.

I've been trying to figure out how to use Frappr at work, but had some reservations about the UI, how it asked you to sign up with your email before you could add anything to a map and other stuff. Though I love the concept of collaborative mapping and tools that help to visualize and build communities online.

Wayfaring, for whatever reason, seemed more appealing to me after only a brief glimpse. I jumped in immediately to create a map for my sister, who's coming for a month long visit in May. All the points of interest within walking distance.

Below is a map I found of vegan places in Seattle. Once you create a free account with Wayfaring, you can add your own sites. [I just noticed, how is this account requirement different from Frappr? Hmmm, interesting how my adoption of certain tools has just as much to do with a certain inscrutable threshold of resistence as it does with my intitial evaluation of usefulness. I.e. sometimes I'm just not ready, for no real reason, to start using a new tool.]

Anyway, I'll take a closer look at Frappr and Wayfaring more closely now. Both seem to have neat features the other lacks, so it'll be an online mapping community smackdown.

Apparently iframes are evil and WordPress.com doesn't allow them. The above is just a screenshot of the actual map.

Though this happened in mid-December last year, I still cling to it as proof of what I’m capable of:

I said no to fried chicken!

Apparently, Ezell’s is so much of a big deal, Oprah orders take-out all the way from Chicago (or so the local lore goes). I knew it would be served at this meeting I had to go to, and I girded myself accordingly. The vegetarian offering last year was really nasty, so I wasn’t sure if I could hold out. But like that first step a few weeks before, passing the meat by was shockingly easy.

Sitting down to eat, I looked around at everybody else, smacking their lips, talking about how good it was. And I was fine. I remembered that Ezell’s never really did that much for me. Maybe the Colonel has my heart. Still, in the past, I would happily eat Ezell’s the few times I encountered it. That instinctive reaching for something fried, memories of my siblings and I each having our own favorite piece every Sunday (mine was the drumstick), the promise, and ultimate letdown, of having it taste like Kentucky Fried from 25 years ago.

But looking at the greasy fingers, recalling that slimy feeling that never really washed away, the disappointment spun into the batter, leaving an aftertaste of flavorlessness and regret, I was content.

Maybe it helped that I loaded up on the fries, so I had my fix of fat. And the vegetarian option was pretty OK. But I still did the unthinkable. Hooray!

Now if only bacon was so easily refused…

I can easily see this blog turning into a catalog of my adventures in resisting meat.

The day after I returned The Lives of Animals, I had a just about all-day meeting outside of the office. Lunch was the typical salad, cold cuts, bread and condiments. While I have no problem avoiding beef, roast beef is something I still salivate for when it’s in front of me.

I passed it by without much effort though. Turkey always seemed the most harmless, I’m not sure why. And I gravitated towards it instinctively. I mean, I always kinda pitied those people you see in front of this kind of spread, piling their slices of cheese on top of their bread and tomatoes and lettuce. Just watching them always made me feel hungry in sympathy (in my own arrogant way).

But I went ahead and made myself a cheese and tomato and mustard sandwich anyway. Without the salad and zucchini soup it would’ve been much harder. Thinking about the turkey and roast beef as I ate, I thought it wasn’t such a bad tradeoff. This time, anyway.

There are bigger battles to face than some bland cold cuts that never leave me satisfied anyway. Still, it felt really good to refuse them just the same–it made up quite a bit for that hollow feeling inside that vegetarianism always seemed to hold in store, and that definitely gnawed at my insides when the meeting was over.