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I’ve collected some cool rocks from local waterways in the past, but I’ve always wanted to maintain a more serious mineral collection. I decided to curate some specimens from around the world instead of only self-collecting local material.

I acquired this cluster of spessartine garnets and smoky quartz crystals. The matrix is microcline with biotite inclusions which contribute an attractive sparkle. My favorite part is the chunky garnet growing on top of a nicely terminated quartz.

I’m a huge fan of garnets. They’re inexpensive, durable, appear in many colors, and have a high refractive index. Spessartines are a variety of garnets with an orange-red hue, which I believe is caused by manganese.

Quartz is a very common mineral in part because its hardness makes it erode extremely slowly, and also because it’s made of the two most common elements in the crust (silicon and oxygen). The color of smoky quartz is caused by an interesting process where aluminum impurities transfer electrons to neighboring cations in the presence of radiation. High temperatures can change the color to greens, yellows, and browns.

This cluster was collected from the Wushan Spessartine Mine in Fujian, China. However, I’m not sure whether it was from the Tongbei site or the Yunling site.

These minerals formed together out of intrusive granite at the subduction of the Paleo-Pacific Plate underneath the Eastern Block of the North China Block.

Further Reading:

• Nunes, Eduardo Henrique Martins and Lameiras, Fernando Soares The optical absorption of gamma irradiated and heat-treated natural quartz. Materials Research [online]. 2005, v. 8, n. 3 , pp. 305-308. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1590/S1516-14392005000300014. Epub 10 Oct 2005. ISSN 1980-5373.

• Qiu, J., Wang, D., McInnes, B., Jiang, S., Wang, R., & Kanisawa, S. (2004). Two subgroups of A-type granites in the coastal area of Zhejiang and Fujian Provinces, SE China: Age and geochemical constraints on their petrogenesis. Earth and Environmental Science Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, 95(1-2), 227-236. doi:10.1017/S0263593300001036

• Zeng, G., He, Z.-Y., Li, Z., Xu, X.-S., and Chen, L.-H. (2016), Geodynamics of paleo-Pacific plate subduction constrained by the source lithologies of Late Mesozoic basalts in southeastern China, Geophys. Res. Lett., 43, 10,189– 10,197, doi:10.1002/2016GL070346.

The reason I don’t own any pets isn’t because I don’t like animals. Quite the opposite. It’s more like I don’t feel right about the whole power dynamic. I’ve always felt some discomfort around the idea that someone can be an “owner” to an intelligent being like a dog or cat.

The concept of having control over another intelligent being’s life - deciding their food, their home, their movements - evokes an unsettling parallel to ownership of humans in history. My intention isn’t to equate pet ownership with something as grave as slavery, but the fundamental discomfort with exerting such control remains.

Keeping that in mind, I notice that folks often do anthropomorphize their pets. It’s common to hear people use baby voices and human names, and to regard them as existing in a permanent child-like state. While it’s done lovingly, it’s also belittling, intended to mold the animal’s identity to suit the owner’s human lifestyle.

I realize mammalian pets bring immense joy to many, but I choose to refrain from having pets of my own while still supporting and caring for the well-being of animals everywhere.

Despite not being a vegan or vegetarian myself, I’ve come to recognize that the principles underlying the vegan lifestyle are not only ethically sound, but are also potentially necessary for environmental sustainability.

(The term “vegan” here is meant to represent the whole spectrum of diets focused on reducing or eliminating animal products. This includes not only those who follow a true vegan diet - eschewing all animal products - but also vegetarians, who may consume dairy and eggs, and others who are consciously reducing their meat and animal product intake to various degrees. Whether one identifies as vegan, vegetarian, or simply a consumer trying to make more ethical choices, the motivations and ethics intersect, and that’s what I’m focusing on here)

At minimum, the most common fundamental critiques by vegans of the modern food industry can’t be disputed. They point out that the industrial farming of animals often involves inhumane treatment and slaughter of livestock, and emphasize the significant environmental impact, including high water usage and considerable carbon emissions.

Why aren’t we more receptive to what vegans have to say? Why the hostility?

Consider the line that vegans are “preachy”. Based on my experience, this seems to be more of a perceptual bias rather than the reality. The truth is, I often hear more complaints about vegans than I actually hear vegans doing any such preaching. The mere mention or presence of vegans seems to make people whine.

To me, it feels that the narrative of the “preachy vegan” is perpetuated more by those opposing or uncomfortable with veganism than by the vegans themselves. Their choices cause others to reflect uncomfortably on their own habits. In other words, the presence of vegans can serve as a mirror reflecting our moral and environmental negligences. This can evoke a defensive response, a mix of guilt and denial, leading to overt animosity towards vegans.

I enjoy meat and dairy, and I readily admit abstaining from animal products is challenging due to both habitual and economic factors. But considering the vegan philosophy, I’ve significantly reduced my meat consumption and have explored a variety of vegan options. I haven’t found these changes to be difficult or unenjoyable at any point.

Considering the undeniable benefits that veganism offers to both health and the environment, it seems crucial to foster a more respectful and constructive dialogue around it. Let’s not discourage others from caring about animal rights and the environmental impact of our food choices.

Happiness isn’t exactly profitable, is it? If we were content with what we had, why would we purchase anything?

It’s somewhat unnerving how adept our economic system is at profiting from human misery. Brands don’t just cater to desires; they actively cultivate more desire, often by creating the very insecurities they propose to remedy. It’s like the entire field of marketing has morphed into a form of widespread mind control, aiming to direct our behavior by keeping us on a perpetual treadmill of dissatisfaction.

Even our leisure isn’t spared, as FOMO drives us to binge-watch series after series, and the push for the latest tech gadgets feeds on our anxiety of being left out of the loop.

This engineered discontent reaches beyond just consumer goods. It molds our laws, frames our social interactions, and even defines national policies. Our legal structures often prioritize corporate gains over communal welfare. This relentless pursuit of economic efficiency defines our treatment of the environment, labor laws, and international relations.

I’m frustrated because it feels like those with wealth and power control so much of our collective psyche, feeding this endless cycle of consumption that profits from our dissatisfaction.

It strikes me that finding peace or contentment in what we already have is almost a radical act. To be independent of a system that thrives on our unhappiness. To be satisfied with simplicity, to embrace our flawed, unfiltered selves, and to eschew the constant upgrading of our lives could, in essence, undermine the very foundations of consumer-driven growth.

I hope more people pause and consider the true cost of their dissatisfaction and who really benefits from it. Maybe we can collectively find a way to turn toward a future where prosperity doesn’t rely on human misery. For now, I live and participate within the prevailing system, fully aware of its cruelties yet hopeful for change.

It strikes me deeply, almost painfully, how the word “content” has come to encompass so much and yet so little - every video, image, song, social media post all lumped together - diminishing the significance of what might otherwise be considered art, dialogue, or literature.

I think of animals eating from a trough; a need to be continuously fed by a slurry of stimuli - any stimuli.

Why this incessant need for entertainment? Why does a quiet moment seem so filled with the weight of unspent attention? Is this what we’ve come to - being so uncomfortable with our own thoughts that we drown them out with anything that can capture our focus, no matter how trivial or unfulfilling?

This isn’t just nostalgia, but a genuine concern for what this might signify about our cognition and mental health. The simplicity of being, the richness of reflective quietude, and the depth of truly engaging are seemingly becoming lost arts.

Nor is this about simply vilifying technology or entertainment… Art and music aren’t exactly new, but our frantic, almost utilitarian consumption of them as mere “content”, to the point of dependency, does feel distinctly new.

This essay, too, ironically, becomes content!

As you can see, I recently started my own website. I plan to write about various topics that interest me. In case you’re wondering why I decided to start a blog instead of just using social media, here’s why.

Social media - as a, well, medium - is great for sharing quick thoughts and ideas, but it’s not always the best way to share richer content. Posts are often devoured by the algorithms within hours. Accounts can be suspended entirely.

Moreover, social media poses blatant risks to your privacy. Pretty much all platforms collect and sell user data to third parties for targeted advertising, potentially exposing your personal information to unknown entities. Even further, the terms of service for these platforms often grant them the right to use your content for their own purposes, without compensating you for it. This means that your content may be used in ways you don’t approve of.

A self-hosted blog can be completely free of any kind of tracking or sketchy algorithms. There’s no need to worry about what weird stuff might be going on “under the hood”. You also have complete control over the design, the content, and the direction your site takes.

Plus, it will remain online for as long as I want it to. Maybe my content can continue to provide value and be discovered long after it was written. Everything is fast-paced and instant these days, and it’s tempting to think that nobody has the patience to read a lengthy blog post anymore. But there’s a unique charm to blogging that still holds up.

I thought blogging was outdated, but I increasingly feel that hosting content on your own site seems like it can be a much more practical and independent way of using the internet.

I don’t aspire to accumulate followers or anything. I just enjoy learning new things and sharing them. Blogs are a great way to do that. And there are a lot of cheap domains out there.