So the month has come and gone without a single word from me. Sorry about that. Hopefully I'm not still just writing for myself on here. But I wouldn't blame you if you'd completely abandoned me, figuring that I had moved on to something better. Truth is that I was just caught up in life as I knew it. I was studying for the GREs (which are now over), on vacation, and spending time with Tim.
Now I'm back on the island and finishing the last bits of my applications, the dreaded essays! I've been wracking my brain for ways to write these things, but it's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. You'd think that it would be easy to explain why you want to follow the track you want to. I get thrown for a loop when I look at past profiles of students who've gone through one of the programs and most of them have PhDs and masters degrees and here I am trying to get in. I wonder if I'm kidding myself.
I certainly hope not.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
4 weeks to go...
So the next few weeks are going to be insane. Here's a rundown of the schedule in relation to today.
2 weeks: Going to a wedding and really looking forward to getting off the island for a weekend and making a little trip.
3 weeks: Biology GRE. Super nervous, but have a good handle on the material and my scores are improving so much compared to where they started. Just have to read a ton more of my textbook and I'll be fine.
4 weeks: General GRE. I'm very anxious about this test. I think it's affecting my sleep as I have been waking up every couple hours during the night with my head buzzing and little relief available. I'm hoping it goes away once the test is over but we'll see as it will probably continue until I get my results. Still trying to improve my scores but it's hard as the test is a little tricky. It's starting to really get to me how nervous I am for this exam. The day off is going to be very stressful.
2 weeks: Going to a wedding and really looking forward to getting off the island for a weekend and making a little trip.
3 weeks: Biology GRE. Super nervous, but have a good handle on the material and my scores are improving so much compared to where they started. Just have to read a ton more of my textbook and I'll be fine.
4 weeks: General GRE. I'm very anxious about this test. I think it's affecting my sleep as I have been waking up every couple hours during the night with my head buzzing and little relief available. I'm hoping it goes away once the test is over but we'll see as it will probably continue until I get my results. Still trying to improve my scores but it's hard as the test is a little tricky. It's starting to really get to me how nervous I am for this exam. The day off is going to be very stressful.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
why
I wish that I could properly explain why I run. It doesn't make any sense why we would engage in such an activity. After all, it hurts, it's exhausting, and there's no real reason for anyone to run anymore. But when I really get to thinking about it why I put myself through such physical torture (appropriately enough the meditation happened during a long hill) I came to a realization. While there are countless other sports out there that require all kinds of technical ability or skill or even specific physical attributes, anyone can run.
But not everyone runs. There is of course the appeal of the elite, the runners that glide over a course, making it look effortless. But the elite are human. They suffer along with the rest of us. While they may be able to go faster, they certainly feel the same pains that we mortals do. Just like there is a shadow chasing many of us down the road, pushing us on beyond the burning muscles and ravaged lungs, every runner knows the feeling of wanting to quit.
Maybe it's some kind of insanity, punishing yourself that way, but there are moments of supreme bliss when you run. If you can get it just right, you can transcend your physical motion and exist completely in your head, absorbed in your thoughts. Your breathing and body move like a machine and for a few blessed moments you don't feel the pain anymore. That's what I run for.
Not to mention there is a feeling of accomplishment that I chose to get up in the morning and run my miles. If I finish nothing else that day, I've at least done something that most people think is beyond their capability.
But I think the more important reason of why I run is to prove to myself that I can. I am my own biggest critic. Out of all the people in my life, I think I am the one with the most doubt about what I am capable of. If I can convince myself on a daily basis that I can by running, then every dry heave, short breath, or tear is absolutely worth it.
But not everyone runs. There is of course the appeal of the elite, the runners that glide over a course, making it look effortless. But the elite are human. They suffer along with the rest of us. While they may be able to go faster, they certainly feel the same pains that we mortals do. Just like there is a shadow chasing many of us down the road, pushing us on beyond the burning muscles and ravaged lungs, every runner knows the feeling of wanting to quit.
Maybe it's some kind of insanity, punishing yourself that way, but there are moments of supreme bliss when you run. If you can get it just right, you can transcend your physical motion and exist completely in your head, absorbed in your thoughts. Your breathing and body move like a machine and for a few blessed moments you don't feel the pain anymore. That's what I run for.
Not to mention there is a feeling of accomplishment that I chose to get up in the morning and run my miles. If I finish nothing else that day, I've at least done something that most people think is beyond their capability.
But I think the more important reason of why I run is to prove to myself that I can. I am my own biggest critic. Out of all the people in my life, I think I am the one with the most doubt about what I am capable of. If I can convince myself on a daily basis that I can by running, then every dry heave, short breath, or tear is absolutely worth it.
Monday, September 01, 2008
glass ceiling?
I was scanning the news this morning when I noticed a story about Oprah featuring olympic athletes on her first show of the season. One woman in the story was quoted as saying that Oprah is more inspiring than Michael Phelps because she "shattered the glass ceiling for women." I disagree with this statement for a few reasons.
1. I've never really believed that there is an actual glass ceiling. Maybe this comes from the fact that I was raised that you can do anything you want no matter what sex you are. While my mother always told me that brave girls can do anything, I firmly believe that she would have said the exact same thing if I had been born a boy. Which leads me to my disbelief in an actual glass ceiling. We ourselves are not bound by any restrictions that others place on us. It's only you that can impose this barrier to advancement that keeps from moving forward.
2. I don't believe that Oprah is so inspiring. Maybe this is because I come from a family whose women have traditionally been on the more "hard core" side of life. As we put it, they could be plowing the field, stop to have a baby, and keep on plowing. These were women who came over the mountains in wagon trains and were the first settlers in parts of Oregon. I can't help but look to these women as more role models than a woman whose ambitions have led her to become so self-righteous.
3. Why is that Oprah is lauded while we tend in a pinch to forget those women who had to fight in their careers to even be recognized. Think about the women 100 years ago, and before, who may have been brilliant writers, scientists, teachers, mathemeticians, engineers, etc. Those women that fought for an education, fought for jobs, fought to follow their passions, and were not recognized in the slightest even though they managed to carve out their own places of success. Just because could light cigarettes with one hundred dollar bills doesn't make her shatter worthy.
1. I've never really believed that there is an actual glass ceiling. Maybe this comes from the fact that I was raised that you can do anything you want no matter what sex you are. While my mother always told me that brave girls can do anything, I firmly believe that she would have said the exact same thing if I had been born a boy. Which leads me to my disbelief in an actual glass ceiling. We ourselves are not bound by any restrictions that others place on us. It's only you that can impose this barrier to advancement that keeps from moving forward.
2. I don't believe that Oprah is so inspiring. Maybe this is because I come from a family whose women have traditionally been on the more "hard core" side of life. As we put it, they could be plowing the field, stop to have a baby, and keep on plowing. These were women who came over the mountains in wagon trains and were the first settlers in parts of Oregon. I can't help but look to these women as more role models than a woman whose ambitions have led her to become so self-righteous.
3. Why is that Oprah is lauded while we tend in a pinch to forget those women who had to fight in their careers to even be recognized. Think about the women 100 years ago, and before, who may have been brilliant writers, scientists, teachers, mathemeticians, engineers, etc. Those women that fought for an education, fought for jobs, fought to follow their passions, and were not recognized in the slightest even though they managed to carve out their own places of success. Just because could light cigarettes with one hundred dollar bills doesn't make her shatter worthy.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
....kids are crazy
Just a reminder that I am in now way ready to start a family, I've been watching a girl from Two Harbors for the last day and all I want is some time to myself. I mean, the kid is around all the time. And that's what happens when you have a kiddo. Plus she doesn't like bees. Or at least freaks out about them every time they come within six feet of her. And she wanted to talk about make up and stuff..............yeah.
Maybe I'm super burned out by the whole summer and the last thing I needed was to babysit for part of the week. I mean, I could be taking a nap during the several hours that I'm expected to entertain the little nugget. Granted she's a nice enough girl, has a lot of spunk, curious, all those good things, but I just didn't really want this I guess....Can I send her home early? Probably not. Actually definitely not.
Well, here's to looking forward to fall when I'll be able to proper study for the GRE, stop teaching the same things over and over again, and really get some time off. Yay fall!
Maybe I'm super burned out by the whole summer and the last thing I needed was to babysit for part of the week. I mean, I could be taking a nap during the several hours that I'm expected to entertain the little nugget. Granted she's a nice enough girl, has a lot of spunk, curious, all those good things, but I just didn't really want this I guess....Can I send her home early? Probably not. Actually definitely not.
Well, here's to looking forward to fall when I'll be able to proper study for the GRE, stop teaching the same things over and over again, and really get some time off. Yay fall!
Monday, August 18, 2008
breaking in the tri
Every year the alumni from camp come back for a weekend of reminiscing and reveling. Included is the alumni triathalon, a collection of swim, kayak, and run stints. Around a half mile swim, half mile kayak, and 2.6 mile run of fun. Last year I didn't think I was capable of finishing, so at the time I decided that this year I was going to do it. And I did.
Except there was a point in the course where I almost threw up. And then where I almost sat down and stopped. There were moments when I didn't think I could do it. On the back half of the run I couldn't find it to finish. There was to much road, I was to tired, my legs hurt to much, I'd never done anything like this, I wasn't fast enough, I was to fat, a million different things going through my head telling me to stop. What was I doing anyways? Why was I putting myself through this?
About a half mile from the finish I stopped and stopped over, my hands on my knees and tears welling up in my eyes. It wasn't a super hard course. Certainly nothing like what real competitors come across. But I was beat. I'd been had. I'd somehow convinced myself that I was capable when I obviously wasn't. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and took a deep breath. When I opened them again I was staring at my grandpa's dog tag laced into my left shoe. I keep it on my running shoes to remind me to never give up.
Never give up. Even if I came in dead last in the middle of the night I should not give up. I reached down and tapped the tag with my finger, giving the old man a hello but I'm sure he was right there pushing me down the road. I stood up, pushed my shoulders back, and started my way down through camp towards the pier.
I cried when I broke the make-shift toilet paper tape, I cried when I went back to the house to change. I cried when I realized what I'd done. I'd almost given in to that voice in my head, the one that's kept me back, the one that's acted out of fear. But in a horrendous moment of physical weakness I'd mustered what courage I had left in me to ignore that voice and press forward.
Today I'm proud of myself for shutting off that switch and listening to the tiniest glimmer that I could do it. I can see the pride in my eyes when I think about it, know that I may have been at the back, but I am one step closer to shutting up that voice in my head that's been saying 'I can't'.
Except there was a point in the course where I almost threw up. And then where I almost sat down and stopped. There were moments when I didn't think I could do it. On the back half of the run I couldn't find it to finish. There was to much road, I was to tired, my legs hurt to much, I'd never done anything like this, I wasn't fast enough, I was to fat, a million different things going through my head telling me to stop. What was I doing anyways? Why was I putting myself through this?
About a half mile from the finish I stopped and stopped over, my hands on my knees and tears welling up in my eyes. It wasn't a super hard course. Certainly nothing like what real competitors come across. But I was beat. I'd been had. I'd somehow convinced myself that I was capable when I obviously wasn't. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and took a deep breath. When I opened them again I was staring at my grandpa's dog tag laced into my left shoe. I keep it on my running shoes to remind me to never give up.
Never give up. Even if I came in dead last in the middle of the night I should not give up. I reached down and tapped the tag with my finger, giving the old man a hello but I'm sure he was right there pushing me down the road. I stood up, pushed my shoulders back, and started my way down through camp towards the pier.
I cried when I broke the make-shift toilet paper tape, I cried when I went back to the house to change. I cried when I realized what I'd done. I'd almost given in to that voice in my head, the one that's kept me back, the one that's acted out of fear. But in a horrendous moment of physical weakness I'd mustered what courage I had left in me to ignore that voice and press forward.
Today I'm proud of myself for shutting off that switch and listening to the tiniest glimmer that I could do it. I can see the pride in my eyes when I think about it, know that I may have been at the back, but I am one step closer to shutting up that voice in my head that's been saying 'I can't'.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
3 miles, 31:52
Back on the road after defeating the flu and I feel pretty good this morning. Two weeks off did a world of good for my health and I'm ready to get back to work. Despite it being colder than normal last night it was still a pretty hot run this morning. I've found that I have to get out before 6 (mostly it's 5:55 but that's still pre-6!) or else I just get to hot on a run. Maybe it's a mental thing. Some would say so. Tim certainly would.
We went to Avalon over the weekend to see Kenny Loggins, but couldn't get in. So many shenanigans ensued. It was great fun though. Took a bunch of pictures, but here's Tim and I in front of the Casino looking like a regular couple of tourists.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
one-upping myself
I think I outdid myself this week.
Every Tuesday we have an activity called MLV where we march down the pier and then jump off in full uniform. After frolicking in the water for a few minutes we climb up onto the temporary ez-docks and proceed to engage in dock wars. Dock wars is pretty self explanatory. If you're standing on the dock, someone is going to try to push you off. So you should push them off first. Simple as that.
But here's the catch. As is predicted, most people don't want to go in the water. So it becomes a bit of a fight. Some fight more than others. For reasons unknown to me, I decided to throw off people who fought the most. And throw them I did. Typically the senior staff (18+) join together and dominate over the junior staff, bowling them off the docks and generally kicking ass and taking names.
Being the short person that I am, I tend to think that I am taller and so therefor decide it would be a good idea to pick fights with people who tend to be bigger than me. I tend to be pretty successful in my battles by employing a strategy of dropping the person to the deck and then shoving them in. It's worked quite well in the past.
There is a downside though, and that is that I tend to get pretty roughed up. I think I need to lay off next week because this week I am covered in bruises, I can barely life my arms up, and I have a huge gash on my knee. Not to mention my broken toe was smashed again yesterday and someone heeled me in my right foot leaving a giant bruise in the middle of my foot.
Yeah, probably time to back off.
Every Tuesday we have an activity called MLV where we march down the pier and then jump off in full uniform. After frolicking in the water for a few minutes we climb up onto the temporary ez-docks and proceed to engage in dock wars. Dock wars is pretty self explanatory. If you're standing on the dock, someone is going to try to push you off. So you should push them off first. Simple as that.
But here's the catch. As is predicted, most people don't want to go in the water. So it becomes a bit of a fight. Some fight more than others. For reasons unknown to me, I decided to throw off people who fought the most. And throw them I did. Typically the senior staff (18+) join together and dominate over the junior staff, bowling them off the docks and generally kicking ass and taking names.
Being the short person that I am, I tend to think that I am taller and so therefor decide it would be a good idea to pick fights with people who tend to be bigger than me. I tend to be pretty successful in my battles by employing a strategy of dropping the person to the deck and then shoving them in. It's worked quite well in the past.
There is a downside though, and that is that I tend to get pretty roughed up. I think I need to lay off next week because this week I am covered in bruises, I can barely life my arms up, and I have a huge gash on my knee. Not to mention my broken toe was smashed again yesterday and someone heeled me in my right foot leaving a giant bruise in the middle of my foot.
Yeah, probably time to back off.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
sidelined
For the last week or so I've been on forced time-off due to a horrendous cold. For some reason it decided to crawl into my sinuses and settle down for a little while. I'm on the upswing for sure, but my weekend was spent cloistered in my bed despite there being several things that needed my attention. All the extra sleep and general rest did me a world of good as the fever I was running late last week has disappeared and now I've only got to beat this deep chest cough to call myself healthy again.
Taking time off from running has been good too. It's given my body a chance to focus all it's energy on getting healthy. I'm still a little to weak to fully give myself over to the road, as yesterday I went for a quick swim and after only 10 laps was feeling pretty well tired out. I'll get back out to business when I feel I can. But it may be next week.
Adding to the stress of being sick I've finally bitten the bullet and registered myself for the GRE (Graduate Record Exam). It's basically the SAT's for graduate school, but it's not something I'm going to enjoy. In fact, whenever I tell someone I'm taking the GRE this fall they make a face like they've just eaten something awful. I call it the "bad taste face". Really, it doesn't inspire much confidence when people have such a reaction to something that I have to do.
But not only do I have to take the general GRE, I have to take the subject test as well. The subject test is a 200 multiple choice question exam on everything biology related. In my study guides it details the sections regarding plants. I hate plants. I haven't studied plants in almost six years, and even then it was because I was dragged into it kicking and screaming.
So with everything as it is now, I can't wait to get back to running. I so desperately need a time to focus on one thing for a fixed period of time. But for now, it's time for more Emergen-C and sudafed to banish these cold germs.
Taking time off from running has been good too. It's given my body a chance to focus all it's energy on getting healthy. I'm still a little to weak to fully give myself over to the road, as yesterday I went for a quick swim and after only 10 laps was feeling pretty well tired out. I'll get back out to business when I feel I can. But it may be next week.
Adding to the stress of being sick I've finally bitten the bullet and registered myself for the GRE (Graduate Record Exam). It's basically the SAT's for graduate school, but it's not something I'm going to enjoy. In fact, whenever I tell someone I'm taking the GRE this fall they make a face like they've just eaten something awful. I call it the "bad taste face". Really, it doesn't inspire much confidence when people have such a reaction to something that I have to do.
But not only do I have to take the general GRE, I have to take the subject test as well. The subject test is a 200 multiple choice question exam on everything biology related. In my study guides it details the sections regarding plants. I hate plants. I haven't studied plants in almost six years, and even then it was because I was dragged into it kicking and screaming.
So with everything as it is now, I can't wait to get back to running. I so desperately need a time to focus on one thing for a fixed period of time. But for now, it's time for more Emergen-C and sudafed to banish these cold germs.
Monday, July 21, 2008
mid-summer breather
I went home this past weekend and it was amazing. I didn't realize how much good it did me until I got back on the island this afternoon. Basically during the summer the island dries out completely and is totally brown. And usually that's all I notice about it. It's hard to see the green disappear so much so that I can't wait till the heavy rains come back. But when I got home today I took special note of the green spots of camp. There are pretty trees, nice bushes, and some grass here and there. Very nice.
We've also got a new crop of staff in. Interesting because they're a very different group than the last folks. Especially the group of kids that are living in the cabin that is right next to my house. Last half I had a quiet group that was in bed on time and didn't make much noise. As of right now, the kids that are in there this half are running around making lots of general mischief. Much different and not for the better if you ask me. John tried to put kids in there that wouldn't be a problem but I don't think he did it right. Bummer.
Looking forward to getting through with the summer. It's weird because I feel like after this summer the time till I leave will go by so quickly. Before you know it I will be leaving the island and on to my next phase in life. Wherever that might take me at the moment I have no idea. But we'll see how it all works out. I'm willing to see how the chips fall, at least in the next couple of months. Always interesting to watch.
We've also got a new crop of staff in. Interesting because they're a very different group than the last folks. Especially the group of kids that are living in the cabin that is right next to my house. Last half I had a quiet group that was in bed on time and didn't make much noise. As of right now, the kids that are in there this half are running around making lots of general mischief. Much different and not for the better if you ask me. John tried to put kids in there that wouldn't be a problem but I don't think he did it right. Bummer.
Looking forward to getting through with the summer. It's weird because I feel like after this summer the time till I leave will go by so quickly. Before you know it I will be leaving the island and on to my next phase in life. Wherever that might take me at the moment I have no idea. But we'll see how it all works out. I'm willing to see how the chips fall, at least in the next couple of months. Always interesting to watch.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
one year on
So today it's been a year since I left home. I don't really know why the one year mark is such a big deal but it seems like we celebrate that more than anything else.
There were times in the past year when I thought for sure that this was the wrong decision. There were times when I wanted to pack up and go back to Oregon. But there was always that voice in the back of my head that kept saying just to keep on with it. This job is a challenge. It's an incredible life challenge that I never expected. Several times have been hard, especially giving up my life back in Oregon.
It wasn't easy to move. I remember saying goodbye to my parents in the airport and wanting to cry and go back home in the car. Four years ago when I first went to Westwind there was a moment the first day I got dropped off where I wanted to get back in the car and leave. It was the first big step away from home that I'd ever made. But like that day I went ahead with it. I got on the plane and I came here. For better or worse I arrived and I made it all right.
So here's to notching it up and starting another year. Looking forward to seeing what it will bring.
There were times in the past year when I thought for sure that this was the wrong decision. There were times when I wanted to pack up and go back to Oregon. But there was always that voice in the back of my head that kept saying just to keep on with it. This job is a challenge. It's an incredible life challenge that I never expected. Several times have been hard, especially giving up my life back in Oregon.
It wasn't easy to move. I remember saying goodbye to my parents in the airport and wanting to cry and go back home in the car. Four years ago when I first went to Westwind there was a moment the first day I got dropped off where I wanted to get back in the car and leave. It was the first big step away from home that I'd ever made. But like that day I went ahead with it. I got on the plane and I came here. For better or worse I arrived and I made it all right.
So here's to notching it up and starting another year. Looking forward to seeing what it will bring.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
the day the boat died
As the title so deftly suggests, the boat died today. And I was driving. I was just outside of the bay driving our 22 foot boston whaler, the Ghost Diver, when the engine suddenly started thunking and then died. I put in a radio call and was able to raise someone letting them know what was going on. I started the engine again but it stayed on for about 30 second before it died again. So there I was, dead in the water just outside of the bay.
Suddenly I noticed that because of the heavy winds and current that were blowing directly into our channel I was being pushed towards the kelp forest and the point. This means rocks. Big rocks. Scary rocks. The kind of rocks that will rip holes in the hull of your boat and put you so far into the kelp that you are beyond rescue. I threw the anchor but it didn't take and I was forced to do the next logical thing: jump over the side and swim the boat to safety.
Now, I'm not a very large person, and so one might imagine that I would hesitate a bit thinking that I wouldn't be able to pull the boat out. Guess I'm just not that rational. I stripped down to my underwear and grabbed the stern line and leaped off the side in the direction of freedom. Let me tell you, pulling any boat is hard. Pulling a 22 foot heavy hander is even harder. Keeping a tight hold on the stern I side crawled through the kelp, keeping my eyes fixed on open water, I fought my way about 100 yards through the kelp.
When I managed to get close to the edge, my director and support staff had come out to help me with a second ski boat and a motor boat. After about a half hour in the water I was able to scramble into the back of the Diver and collapse in the sun to warm up. Nobody likes hypothermia first thing in the morning. When we got back to the dock we discovered that a chunk of something had lodged itself into the fuel intake and shut off the engine. Took a little while to get it out, but they did and the boat is fine.
Bit of an adventure, but what can I expect?
Suddenly I noticed that because of the heavy winds and current that were blowing directly into our channel I was being pushed towards the kelp forest and the point. This means rocks. Big rocks. Scary rocks. The kind of rocks that will rip holes in the hull of your boat and put you so far into the kelp that you are beyond rescue. I threw the anchor but it didn't take and I was forced to do the next logical thing: jump over the side and swim the boat to safety.
Now, I'm not a very large person, and so one might imagine that I would hesitate a bit thinking that I wouldn't be able to pull the boat out. Guess I'm just not that rational. I stripped down to my underwear and grabbed the stern line and leaped off the side in the direction of freedom. Let me tell you, pulling any boat is hard. Pulling a 22 foot heavy hander is even harder. Keeping a tight hold on the stern I side crawled through the kelp, keeping my eyes fixed on open water, I fought my way about 100 yards through the kelp.
When I managed to get close to the edge, my director and support staff had come out to help me with a second ski boat and a motor boat. After about a half hour in the water I was able to scramble into the back of the Diver and collapse in the sun to warm up. Nobody likes hypothermia first thing in the morning. When we got back to the dock we discovered that a chunk of something had lodged itself into the fuel intake and shut off the engine. Took a little while to get it out, but they did and the boat is fine.
Bit of an adventure, but what can I expect?
Saturday, May 17, 2008
on the road again...
I just can't wait to get on the road again...
Oh how I've been singing that song lately. For the last 10 days I've been laid up with a pretty serious case of shin splints, serious enough that I was worried a stress fracture was on board and I nearly went to Avalon for x-rays. But a solid week of nothing but office work and no running has left me feeling much better. My shins are almost back to normal, and I've been working hard to rehab them with stretches and strength building exercises.
What really gripes me is that it was my own fault. I waited to long to buy a new pair of running shoes and the wear on the cushioning in the old ones led to my injury. So I've been left to my own devices in terms of being active. I've done some rowing up and down the bay, enough so to start calling the dinghy I row in "Spicy Peanut" in honor of my favorite salad dressing.
And then I've been taking swims in the bay. I finally got some swim goggles (not scuba mask) which helps keep my fear of swimming things under control. When I dive I don't really have any fear of things in the water, but when I'm swimming on the surface and can't see what's below me I get very nervous. Enough so that I will have to talk myself up to get into shore without panicking. So I'm very glad that I have got some goggles. Swimming is such a relaxing exercise on top of being so good for you. I always feel great when I come out of a swim.
I'm looking forward to the start of summer. Spring has been an interesting season. I'm progressing along with my Divemaster professional training, it's quite hard and I'm learning how to work with students in lots of different settings. It's weird though when the students you're supposed to be working with are people that are older than you. Watching new diver ego is always funny to me. I saw the same thing in marching band. You get people who have a little experience and they thing that they are the "end-all". So I've taken the same stance when it comes to my diving that I had back then, and that's to shut up and put up. It's walking the walk.
I have always trusted in the notion that if you show up and do your job to the best of your ability and don't make a fuss about your "skills" then you will be rewarded in the end. Call it "quiet perseverance" or whatever you want, but it's been my experience that even though you may not think anyone notices you or the good work you are doing, you are probably wrong.
Speaking of noticing, for a purely selfish reason I have been cooking a lot more lately. I've been trying to get the attention of a boat captain that comes through camp quite often and short of throwing up a large sign that says, "Hey let's get to know each other better" I've been wracking my brain to come up with a distinct way of setting myself apart from the other folks who are around when he comes in.
Finally I decided to play up my strengths. For starters I gave him an entire loaf of Challah that I had made on my day off. I always make two loaves so giving one away is never a problem. He really liked it. Turns out he went to culinary school, so in the spirit I've been making lots of things to give him when he comes to town. In addition to the bread there have been pumpkin butter filled hamentaschen, and a jar of roasted red bell peppers packed in olive oil and garlic. Some might point and laugh at my following the old addage that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I like cooking, and I like that he appreciates what I give him. So I guess we will see what happens next.
Speaking of next, I've been thinking about where I want to go once I leave camp. Seems like I haven't been here that long but it's been almost a year and I like to have a plan for what to do next. I have a few options, but the one I am most considering is going back to school for science writing. Been working on familiarizing myself with the work and practicing. I'm looking to go to University of British Columbia. Mostly I want to be settled somewhere again.
There are times when I feel really lonely. Even though these days I am surrounded by people and it's a challenge to get any time to myself. It's funny how in the midst of all this noise I can sometimes feel alone and adrift. It doesn't happen so often that it worries. Just small moments. I was thinking one night on the notion that I don't particularly miss one place more than other anymore, but what I miss is a life I had that was stable. A community that was strong and gave me a place to belong. Traditions and people I held on to because knowing the past gave me a foundation for my future. But now I wonder, in my current state of being, am I becoming an island?
While I'm left pondering my existential self, I do my best to support the economy and get rid of my tax return checks. In other words, I've bought some stuff. Things I needed, and some things purely for fun. Most notable was a new dress from Patagonia (pictured). A dress that I am simply in love with. I put it on and the way it fits makes me feel powerful. It's like a secret weapon the way this dress makes me feel.
Oh how I've been singing that song lately. For the last 10 days I've been laid up with a pretty serious case of shin splints, serious enough that I was worried a stress fracture was on board and I nearly went to Avalon for x-rays. But a solid week of nothing but office work and no running has left me feeling much better. My shins are almost back to normal, and I've been working hard to rehab them with stretches and strength building exercises.
What really gripes me is that it was my own fault. I waited to long to buy a new pair of running shoes and the wear on the cushioning in the old ones led to my injury. So I've been left to my own devices in terms of being active. I've done some rowing up and down the bay, enough so to start calling the dinghy I row in "Spicy Peanut" in honor of my favorite salad dressing.
And then I've been taking swims in the bay. I finally got some swim goggles (not scuba mask) which helps keep my fear of swimming things under control. When I dive I don't really have any fear of things in the water, but when I'm swimming on the surface and can't see what's below me I get very nervous. Enough so that I will have to talk myself up to get into shore without panicking. So I'm very glad that I have got some goggles. Swimming is such a relaxing exercise on top of being so good for you. I always feel great when I come out of a swim.
I'm looking forward to the start of summer. Spring has been an interesting season. I'm progressing along with my Divemaster professional training, it's quite hard and I'm learning how to work with students in lots of different settings. It's weird though when the students you're supposed to be working with are people that are older than you. Watching new diver ego is always funny to me. I saw the same thing in marching band. You get people who have a little experience and they thing that they are the "end-all". So I've taken the same stance when it comes to my diving that I had back then, and that's to shut up and put up. It's walking the walk.
I have always trusted in the notion that if you show up and do your job to the best of your ability and don't make a fuss about your "skills" then you will be rewarded in the end. Call it "quiet perseverance" or whatever you want, but it's been my experience that even though you may not think anyone notices you or the good work you are doing, you are probably wrong.
Speaking of noticing, for a purely selfish reason I have been cooking a lot more lately. I've been trying to get the attention of a boat captain that comes through camp quite often and short of throwing up a large sign that says, "Hey let's get to know each other better" I've been wracking my brain to come up with a distinct way of setting myself apart from the other folks who are around when he comes in.
Finally I decided to play up my strengths. For starters I gave him an entire loaf of Challah that I had made on my day off. I always make two loaves so giving one away is never a problem. He really liked it. Turns out he went to culinary school, so in the spirit I've been making lots of things to give him when he comes to town. In addition to the bread there have been pumpkin butter filled hamentaschen, and a jar of roasted red bell peppers packed in olive oil and garlic. Some might point and laugh at my following the old addage that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I like cooking, and I like that he appreciates what I give him. So I guess we will see what happens next.
Speaking of next, I've been thinking about where I want to go once I leave camp. Seems like I haven't been here that long but it's been almost a year and I like to have a plan for what to do next. I have a few options, but the one I am most considering is going back to school for science writing. Been working on familiarizing myself with the work and practicing. I'm looking to go to University of British Columbia. Mostly I want to be settled somewhere again.
There are times when I feel really lonely. Even though these days I am surrounded by people and it's a challenge to get any time to myself. It's funny how in the midst of all this noise I can sometimes feel alone and adrift. It doesn't happen so often that it worries. Just small moments. I was thinking one night on the notion that I don't particularly miss one place more than other anymore, but what I miss is a life I had that was stable. A community that was strong and gave me a place to belong. Traditions and people I held on to because knowing the past gave me a foundation for my future. But now I wonder, in my current state of being, am I becoming an island?
While I'm left pondering my existential self, I do my best to support the economy and get rid of my tax return checks. In other words, I've bought some stuff. Things I needed, and some things purely for fun. Most notable was a new dress from Patagonia (pictured). A dress that I am simply in love with. I put it on and the way it fits makes me feel powerful. It's like a secret weapon the way this dress makes me feel.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Labor Vincit Omnia
There were four of us bent over in the morning sun, examining the ramp joint bolted to the end of the pier. Where there should have been a plate of steel flush up against the edge, was instead a three-eights of an inch gap. A gap, that the creaking ramp told us, was only going to get bigger. The solution was to weld two struts of steel to the end of the ramp and bolt them into the stringers with foot long deck bolts. Not a permanent fix, but it would buy us enough time. It was the last thing to be done on the pier, besides sweeping away the last vestiges of construction from the decking. Two months of work were going to end in a few hours. But I don't think we realized it at the time.
In the weeks since completion there have been several proverbial pats on the back from the higher ups to those who were involved in the project. People who campaigned for capital, folks who pushed permits through, and those of us on site who just sat up nights waiting for construction to start. But there's been a more nagging set of comments about the new pier swirling around. Folks who think it looks to much like other piers. That there's no piles for the rangers to stand on. That the railing "ruins" the pier. People seem to have forgotten the most important part of the project. After you boil away the congratulations and the complaints, one key factor deserves it's fair of recognition: the pricks who built the damn thing.
Pardon the language, but I figured I would refer to them in their own terms. It baffles my mind how people could overlook these guys. After all, how many of us out there could do what they did? But what did they do exactly? To sum up, in two months, eight guys built two entire piers. It was insanity. Crazy loud, messy, sometimes chaotic looking insanity. But I guess I loved every minute of it.
My dear friends that we at camp owe so much to carry on the tradition of driving pile and working full bore until the job was done. I've never seen something like that in my whole life. I grew up around people who knew the definition of hard work. Folks who didn't mind getting their hands and backs behind a job and doing what it took so those who followed would have something to rely upon. The crew that built the pier worked through rain, wind, beating sun, and they did it quicker than we ever could have imagined. After being months behind schedule, they picked up the task and finished in two months instead of the prescribed three. From my limited experience at camp, that's about the quickest I've seen anything get done around here. Which really is saying something.
Every morning I take a walk down the pier, lining my steps up with the nails marking stringers and caps, running my fingers over the railings where they were sanded down. There are little things I notice, things that really don't mean anything to anyone else but I keep them close to me because the memory of what came before compared to what is now gives me confidence for the day. Sometimes I walk the planks barefoot. I feel closer to it. For me it's not a thing anymore. It's like a friend, who breathes and sighs through the days along with all of us. I can't imagine life here without it and the experience of watching it be born under the hands of the crew.
Maybe it's waxing to poetic to let go what I really think in the mornings. To say that when I stand there, I remember the hard work, and wonder what I can be capable of. When I stretch on the warm wood after my runs, I begin to think that if eight men can build something so permanent, what can I be capable of building in my life?
So it's with that that I dedicate our pier to the men who were the crux of the operation, those who saw it go from a stack of paper plans and a parade ground of raw supplies into the structure that it is today.
Thanks guys. You're really, truly, the best there is. At least to me. 2375.
In the weeks since completion there have been several proverbial pats on the back from the higher ups to those who were involved in the project. People who campaigned for capital, folks who pushed permits through, and those of us on site who just sat up nights waiting for construction to start. But there's been a more nagging set of comments about the new pier swirling around. Folks who think it looks to much like other piers. That there's no piles for the rangers to stand on. That the railing "ruins" the pier. People seem to have forgotten the most important part of the project. After you boil away the congratulations and the complaints, one key factor deserves it's fair of recognition: the pricks who built the damn thing.
Pardon the language, but I figured I would refer to them in their own terms. It baffles my mind how people could overlook these guys. After all, how many of us out there could do what they did? But what did they do exactly? To sum up, in two months, eight guys built two entire piers. It was insanity. Crazy loud, messy, sometimes chaotic looking insanity. But I guess I loved every minute of it.
My dear friends that we at camp owe so much to carry on the tradition of driving pile and working full bore until the job was done. I've never seen something like that in my whole life. I grew up around people who knew the definition of hard work. Folks who didn't mind getting their hands and backs behind a job and doing what it took so those who followed would have something to rely upon. The crew that built the pier worked through rain, wind, beating sun, and they did it quicker than we ever could have imagined. After being months behind schedule, they picked up the task and finished in two months instead of the prescribed three. From my limited experience at camp, that's about the quickest I've seen anything get done around here. Which really is saying something.
Every morning I take a walk down the pier, lining my steps up with the nails marking stringers and caps, running my fingers over the railings where they were sanded down. There are little things I notice, things that really don't mean anything to anyone else but I keep them close to me because the memory of what came before compared to what is now gives me confidence for the day. Sometimes I walk the planks barefoot. I feel closer to it. For me it's not a thing anymore. It's like a friend, who breathes and sighs through the days along with all of us. I can't imagine life here without it and the experience of watching it be born under the hands of the crew.
Maybe it's waxing to poetic to let go what I really think in the mornings. To say that when I stand there, I remember the hard work, and wonder what I can be capable of. When I stretch on the warm wood after my runs, I begin to think that if eight men can build something so permanent, what can I be capable of building in my life?
So it's with that that I dedicate our pier to the men who were the crux of the operation, those who saw it go from a stack of paper plans and a parade ground of raw supplies into the structure that it is today.
Thanks guys. You're really, truly, the best there is. At least to me. 2375.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
occupational hazard part deux
In my last post I alluded to the fact that I have a dangerous job. Dangerous in the sense that there are times when it is really unsafe for me to get into the water. I had one of those days a couple weeks back. The surge was awful, and my dive partner and I had insane troubles getting ourselves back into shore. But we're perfectly fine.
There are other aspects to my job other than the chance that I could die. But then every job has a chance of death. Some are just higher than others...but that's not what this post is about. What I'm talking about is the incredible physical strain that my job has put on my body. In the last month alone I've lost nearly 8 pounds from all the time that I spend in the water. On a typical day during heavy collection we would make an average of two dives, sometimes we made three, and this was in water that hovered around a constant 54 degrees.
Typically, an hour of diving will cost you about 550 calories. What I don't know is if this estimate is for warm water diving or cold water diving. When you think about how much energy your body spends to keep you warm when it's cold, this must increase how much you burn in cold water diving. I heard once that people who work in Antarctica have to eat mostly fried food to get the thousands of calories it takes just to maintain your weight in that environment.
When I stop to rationalize, it's not wonder I've been dropping weight like crazy. And not to mention the eating. But at the moment the construction workers in camp have nothing on my dive partner and I in terms of what we can put away at meals. Another bonus of all the diving, it's putting me in better shape. I ran a 5k distance today and lowered my time by about five whole minutes. Now that's a nice little bonus of the job.
There are other aspects to my job other than the chance that I could die. But then every job has a chance of death. Some are just higher than others...but that's not what this post is about. What I'm talking about is the incredible physical strain that my job has put on my body. In the last month alone I've lost nearly 8 pounds from all the time that I spend in the water. On a typical day during heavy collection we would make an average of two dives, sometimes we made three, and this was in water that hovered around a constant 54 degrees.
Typically, an hour of diving will cost you about 550 calories. What I don't know is if this estimate is for warm water diving or cold water diving. When you think about how much energy your body spends to keep you warm when it's cold, this must increase how much you burn in cold water diving. I heard once that people who work in Antarctica have to eat mostly fried food to get the thousands of calories it takes just to maintain your weight in that environment.
When I stop to rationalize, it's not wonder I've been dropping weight like crazy. And not to mention the eating. But at the moment the construction workers in camp have nothing on my dive partner and I in terms of what we can put away at meals. Another bonus of all the diving, it's putting me in better shape. I ran a 5k distance today and lowered my time by about five whole minutes. Now that's a nice little bonus of the job.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
occupational hazard
There are certain mishaps that can occur in any career. Some are more dangerous or destructive than others. As a marine biologist, and more specifically, as a diver, I cannot operate in my profession without a healthy respect and sometimes fear of the power of the ocean. I have met several in my field who for inexplicable reasons lack one the above two. It seems like an obvious thing. Wouldn't someone who has studied the ocean or spent any time near it have any idea of how truly terrifying it can be? I find that complacency is what leads us to accidents and desperate situations when it comes to the ocean. How big we feel when the waters are calm yet how wrong we are when the waves pick up.
I guess I could have picked a safer profession. I mean, you never hear about anyone getting hurt or ending up in a perilous situation as an accountant. But after all I could be wrong. Those numbers on a page can be dangerous, I'm sure. And I can't say that I entirely agree with the pressure and expectations that are being placed on myself and my intern. We've worked two weeks straight with some pretty drastic consequences for our health (and maybe sanity?). Personally I've lost 9 pounds despite a more than healthy intake of food, sores on my knuckles from putting on damp wetsuits, sores on my feet from wearing damp booties all day, aching muscles, bruises from falling several times on the rocks and beaches while wearing almost 50 pounds of gear, and exhaustion that no matter how much I sleep and rest does not go away.
Yes, I am complaining. I take full responsibility for it. But sometimes we all need a little moment where we just say that we are not happy doing our job because it's not fun any more. And I've reached one of those times. It will get better, and I will enjoy myself again. But until the insanity that is spring collection ends, I will continue to be miserable.
I guess I could have picked a safer profession. I mean, you never hear about anyone getting hurt or ending up in a perilous situation as an accountant. But after all I could be wrong. Those numbers on a page can be dangerous, I'm sure. And I can't say that I entirely agree with the pressure and expectations that are being placed on myself and my intern. We've worked two weeks straight with some pretty drastic consequences for our health (and maybe sanity?). Personally I've lost 9 pounds despite a more than healthy intake of food, sores on my knuckles from putting on damp wetsuits, sores on my feet from wearing damp booties all day, aching muscles, bruises from falling several times on the rocks and beaches while wearing almost 50 pounds of gear, and exhaustion that no matter how much I sleep and rest does not go away.
Yes, I am complaining. I take full responsibility for it. But sometimes we all need a little moment where we just say that we are not happy doing our job because it's not fun any more. And I've reached one of those times. It will get better, and I will enjoy myself again. But until the insanity that is spring collection ends, I will continue to be miserable.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
A matter of identity
Growing up in America we're taught that our country is a "melting pot" of cultures. But unlike other countries in the world we lack a common historical culture. It's a product of our foundations and our relative youth, so where does that leave us? A lot of times if you ask people born in this country (with several generations of Americans preceding them) what their heritage is they won't say 'American', most often they'll ramble off a list of other nationalities that they think might be included in their background. Or you get the stock "I'm a European mutt" response which is personally annoying. But can we really stop at just saying we're all 'Americans'? Is it really easy enough to classify ourselves based solely on the country we live in? There are different degrees to which we identify with our country of origin. For some people, it comes down to identifying yourself based on the state or region you grew up in. I identify myself as an Oregonian. I was born and raised in Oregon and come from a family that settled parts of the Western Willamette Valley and then moved over across the coast range into the Tillamook County area. Even though I'm technically living in California (a fact I get fussy about if brought up in conversation) I still identify myself as an Oregonian. I dread the day I have to trade in my Oregon drivers license, knowing full well that I will become 'resident' of another state or country. But that doesn't detract from who I am.
So much of who we are is based on where we come from. It's often where we feel most comfortable, where we go to reconnect with ourselves, to sort out our problems, to experience our greatest joys. I'm insanely proud of where I come from and the deep connections my family has to the area. There's a deep running feeling that you are part of a landscape. That the blood of my ancestors who toiled in soil, under the sky, and on the sea connects me to something that runs much deeper than a political line that was drawn over a hundred years ago.
I guess that's what really matter at the end of the day. Having a place that call your own.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
token man picture
Ha. Sometimes you just need a good lookin' man on your blog. Today is one of those days. Okay, weeks. Fine. Months.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
valentine's day
There are few movie moments that move me the same everytime I see them. The following part of Moonstruck is one of those moments. Nicolas Cage giving the greatest speech of love. If you haven't seen the movie, go see it.
"Everything seems like nothing to me now, 'cause I want you in my bed. I don't care if I burn in hell. I don't care if you burn in hell. The past and the future is a joke to me now. I see that they're nothing. I see they ain't here. The only thing that's here is you - and me. Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love don't make things nice - it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and *die*. The storybooks are *bullshit*. Now I want you to come upstairs with me and *get* in my bed!"
"Everything seems like nothing to me now, 'cause I want you in my bed. I don't care if I burn in hell. I don't care if you burn in hell. The past and the future is a joke to me now. I see that they're nothing. I see they ain't here. The only thing that's here is you - and me. Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love don't make things nice - it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and *die*. The storybooks are *bullshit*. Now I want you to come upstairs with me and *get* in my bed!"
Thursday, February 07, 2008
"cut your hair you hippy!"
This was posted by someone I know on the mainland. I felt it necessary to respond.
"Recently, the L.A. County Board of Supervisors opted out of an aggressive deal that would have imposed strict regulations on the use of plastic shopping bags, with the possibility of an outright ban looming should specifications not be met. Though this might not seem like a large issue, consider this:
L.A. County uses approximately 6 billion plastic bags each year (Source: Los Angeles Times)
430,000 gallons of oil are used to produce 100 million plastic bags (Source: San Francisco Chronicle)
Do the math: L.A. County consumes 25,800,000 gallons of oil each year in plastic bags. At oil prices as of 2:28 p.m. the day I'm posting this, Feb. 6, 2008, according to CNNMoney ($87.14 per barrel, or per 42 gallons), that's $53,528,857.14 that L.A. County consumes each year in plastic bags. 53 and one half MILLION dollars.
Methinks the L.A. County Board of Directors needs to stop listening to the grocery lobbyists, especially since China just banned plastic bags altogether."
Things to consider in this debate:
1. What is the alternative to plastic bags?
2. What is the cost (monetary and environmentally) of the alternative.
3. What are the economic impacts of the implementation of the alternative?
4. What are the ecological impacts of the alternative?
5. What are the societal impacts of the alternative?
Obviously there's a lot of questions to be answered in response to what looks like a simple solution. Yes, we reduce oil consumption if we eliminate plastic bags. But are they really the only bad guy in this debate? So we eliminate plastic bags. Ok, what now? Do we use paper bags? Sounds like a good idea right? Well let's answer some of our questions from above.
1. Let's assume that the elimination of plastic bags forces paper as the only alternative to be found. For the sake of example of complexity, let's assume (a nasty thing I know), that no one is bringing their own shopping bag to the store.
2. The production of paper bags comes at a double whammy cost. We all know (at least we should by now) that paper comes from trees. And trees come from forests. So, to make paper bags we need to cut down a forest. But that forest wasn't just sitting there before we needed our paper bags. It was a dynamic system. For one, it was absorbing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and converting it to oxygen. Another cool thing trees do (if you didn't know by now).
So now that we've cut down a forest we need to actually make our paper bags. Which means transporting our trees to our factory. Which is going to produce some more gases and use up more oil. But the consumption doesn't stop there. Our paper bag factory doesn't run on good intentions. It runs on good old fashioned oil. Producing more green house gases. The amount of pollutants produced by the production of paper bags is astounding. Consider this: "Paper sacks generate 70% more air and 50 times more water pollutants than plastic bags."
Source: "Comparison of the Effects on the Environment of Polyethylene and Paper Carrier Bags," Federal Office of the Environment, August 1988.
That's a lot to digest, I know. But let's continue with our questions.
3. Economically let's consider how often we are recycling paper bags. According to the Wall Street Journal, an estimated 10 to 15% of paper bags are recycled. That's a pretty low number. At this point, and I could be wrong, I don't know of any campaigns or drives to recycle paper bags. Again, I could be wrong. So we have to spend more money to cut down more trees, drive them to a plant, and run that plant to produce more bags.
4. As for ecological impacts, let me be frank. We're cutting down forests to make paper bags. Forests. Like I said before it's not like those forests were just sitting there waiting to be made into a bag. They were actively participating in the atmospheric exchange. And doing a fine job of it I'm sure. So why would we want to cut them down?
5. This is a question that can only be speculative. What do we as a society stand to gain from setting aside forests to be made into bags that we will use once a week. Do people who were formerly using plastic bags take it upon themselves to suddenly start recycling paper ones? My guess is no. I try to see the upside to most things, but frankly, if someone doesn't care enough now to recycle, then taking away plastic bags isn't going to make them care. That's a bigger problem to be addressed.
So, I guess my whole point is this: Is it getting rid of plastic bags the only answer? Or there something else that needs to be done?
Once again, education is a key component to a successful campaign to reducing the impact of plastic bags. Did you know that if you re-use paper bags at the grocery store you will often get a discount? At Vons they take 5 cents off per bag. (6 cents at WinCo for those of you living in Oregon.) If you were to use the same paper, or even plastic, bags two weeks in a row for an entire year, you've reduced your impact that year by a half.
Or better yet, dig around your house and see if you have any canvas bags. Use those for shopping. They work just as well and last for years. Head to a GoodWill or Salvation Army and pick up a couple for cheap. I have three bags that I've used going on three years and they may be ugly but it's helped reduce at least my impact.
"Recently, the L.A. County Board of Supervisors opted out of an aggressive deal that would have imposed strict regulations on the use of plastic shopping bags, with the possibility of an outright ban looming should specifications not be met. Though this might not seem like a large issue, consider this:
L.A. County uses approximately 6 billion plastic bags each year (Source: Los Angeles Times)
430,000 gallons of oil are used to produce 100 million plastic bags (Source: San Francisco Chronicle)
Do the math: L.A. County consumes 25,800,000 gallons of oil each year in plastic bags. At oil prices as of 2:28 p.m. the day I'm posting this, Feb. 6, 2008, according to CNNMoney ($87.14 per barrel, or per 42 gallons), that's $53,528,857.14 that L.A. County consumes each year in plastic bags. 53 and one half MILLION dollars.
Methinks the L.A. County Board of Directors needs to stop listening to the grocery lobbyists, especially since China just banned plastic bags altogether."
Things to consider in this debate:
1. What is the alternative to plastic bags?
2. What is the cost (monetary and environmentally) of the alternative.
3. What are the economic impacts of the implementation of the alternative?
4. What are the ecological impacts of the alternative?
5. What are the societal impacts of the alternative?
Obviously there's a lot of questions to be answered in response to what looks like a simple solution. Yes, we reduce oil consumption if we eliminate plastic bags. But are they really the only bad guy in this debate? So we eliminate plastic bags. Ok, what now? Do we use paper bags? Sounds like a good idea right? Well let's answer some of our questions from above.
1. Let's assume that the elimination of plastic bags forces paper as the only alternative to be found. For the sake of example of complexity, let's assume (a nasty thing I know), that no one is bringing their own shopping bag to the store.
2. The production of paper bags comes at a double whammy cost. We all know (at least we should by now) that paper comes from trees. And trees come from forests. So, to make paper bags we need to cut down a forest. But that forest wasn't just sitting there before we needed our paper bags. It was a dynamic system. For one, it was absorbing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and converting it to oxygen. Another cool thing trees do (if you didn't know by now).
So now that we've cut down a forest we need to actually make our paper bags. Which means transporting our trees to our factory. Which is going to produce some more gases and use up more oil. But the consumption doesn't stop there. Our paper bag factory doesn't run on good intentions. It runs on good old fashioned oil. Producing more green house gases. The amount of pollutants produced by the production of paper bags is astounding. Consider this: "Paper sacks generate 70% more air and 50 times more water pollutants than plastic bags."
Source: "Comparison of the Effects on the Environment of Polyethylene and Paper Carrier Bags," Federal Office of the Environment, August 1988.
That's a lot to digest, I know. But let's continue with our questions.
3. Economically let's consider how often we are recycling paper bags. According to the Wall Street Journal, an estimated 10 to 15% of paper bags are recycled. That's a pretty low number. At this point, and I could be wrong, I don't know of any campaigns or drives to recycle paper bags. Again, I could be wrong. So we have to spend more money to cut down more trees, drive them to a plant, and run that plant to produce more bags.
4. As for ecological impacts, let me be frank. We're cutting down forests to make paper bags. Forests. Like I said before it's not like those forests were just sitting there waiting to be made into a bag. They were actively participating in the atmospheric exchange. And doing a fine job of it I'm sure. So why would we want to cut them down?
5. This is a question that can only be speculative. What do we as a society stand to gain from setting aside forests to be made into bags that we will use once a week. Do people who were formerly using plastic bags take it upon themselves to suddenly start recycling paper ones? My guess is no. I try to see the upside to most things, but frankly, if someone doesn't care enough now to recycle, then taking away plastic bags isn't going to make them care. That's a bigger problem to be addressed.
So, I guess my whole point is this: Is it getting rid of plastic bags the only answer? Or there something else that needs to be done?
Once again, education is a key component to a successful campaign to reducing the impact of plastic bags. Did you know that if you re-use paper bags at the grocery store you will often get a discount? At Vons they take 5 cents off per bag. (6 cents at WinCo for those of you living in Oregon.) If you were to use the same paper, or even plastic, bags two weeks in a row for an entire year, you've reduced your impact that year by a half.
Or better yet, dig around your house and see if you have any canvas bags. Use those for shopping. They work just as well and last for years. Head to a GoodWill or Salvation Army and pick up a couple for cheap. I have three bags that I've used going on three years and they may be ugly but it's helped reduce at least my impact.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
I guess we're in for a wild ride.
Normally I refrain from commenting on anything political. Mostly because I was raised knowing that there are certain things you don't talk about in polite conversation. Politics being one of those things. And frankly I'm not going to pretend that I know enough to spout any kind of convictions to anyone. So there you go. With that disclaimer out of the way, after watching (partly) and reading (mostly) about the results from Super Tuesday, it's going to be an interesting year in terms of the election.
I know that this morning across the channel some folks are particularly stung that California went the way it did, and frankly I'm glad the island is giving me some insulation from it all. The last thing I need is to hear one more person say, "How could someone have voted for them?", as if the 'them' were infected with some kind of plague.
All I can say is that's some mighty fine democracy we've got ourselves. Sure thing!
Just for fun, check this out.
I know that this morning across the channel some folks are particularly stung that California went the way it did, and frankly I'm glad the island is giving me some insulation from it all. The last thing I need is to hear one more person say, "How could someone have voted for them?", as if the 'them' were infected with some kind of plague.
All I can say is that's some mighty fine democracy we've got ourselves. Sure thing!
Just for fun, check this out.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Lest we dare to think big
http://cosmiclog.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/01/07/557301.aspx
I don't know how many people would find this linked article to be sad, but when I read it I felt like we are slamming the door shut on an era of scientific exploration. It's becoming more and more difficult for researchers to secure the necessary funds to continue on with their work, that is unless they happen to fall under the sometimes not so gracious fold of what the government defines as "necessary research". Some days it seems that if you aren't searching for the cure for avian flu or building a better bomb, then you're out of luck. Which may lead some people to wonder what the point of scientific research really is?
Speculation over the purpose of scientific research is a topic that can be debated about almost endlessly. I don't think anyone really knows for sure. Author Carl Sagan wrote in his book 'Contact' that there's no reason why science can't be practical, even venturing into profitable. But is this really the only justification for research? Or is it really that we're just satisfying a deep seated need to explore our world. The mark of our species is our awareness of the world we live in. A curiosity to push the borders of our societal realities drove men to cross oceans, deserts, mountains, and any other geographic obstacle to draw the lines in those blank sections of map.
With the macro aspects of our world conquered long ago, we turned our attentions to the minute details. Our ability to analyze and discover the machinery of our Earth, bodies, and even the cosmos, begs us to take the results of those who came before us and push forward with research that could open new frontiers. New maps to draw, new boundaries to push and even shatter.
While the situation for many of the 'Big Science' projects, as the article refers to them, may look bleak, even dire on some days, all is not lost. What it's going to take is the audacity to allow ourselves the chance to imagine. So while the door may be shut, let's hope it isn't forever.
I don't know how many people would find this linked article to be sad, but when I read it I felt like we are slamming the door shut on an era of scientific exploration. It's becoming more and more difficult for researchers to secure the necessary funds to continue on with their work, that is unless they happen to fall under the sometimes not so gracious fold of what the government defines as "necessary research". Some days it seems that if you aren't searching for the cure for avian flu or building a better bomb, then you're out of luck. Which may lead some people to wonder what the point of scientific research really is?
Speculation over the purpose of scientific research is a topic that can be debated about almost endlessly. I don't think anyone really knows for sure. Author Carl Sagan wrote in his book 'Contact' that there's no reason why science can't be practical, even venturing into profitable. But is this really the only justification for research? Or is it really that we're just satisfying a deep seated need to explore our world. The mark of our species is our awareness of the world we live in. A curiosity to push the borders of our societal realities drove men to cross oceans, deserts, mountains, and any other geographic obstacle to draw the lines in those blank sections of map.
With the macro aspects of our world conquered long ago, we turned our attentions to the minute details. Our ability to analyze and discover the machinery of our Earth, bodies, and even the cosmos, begs us to take the results of those who came before us and push forward with research that could open new frontiers. New maps to draw, new boundaries to push and even shatter.
While the situation for many of the 'Big Science' projects, as the article refers to them, may look bleak, even dire on some days, all is not lost. What it's going to take is the audacity to allow ourselves the chance to imagine. So while the door may be shut, let's hope it isn't forever.
Friday, January 04, 2008
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