Eco/Illogical

As part of the social contract of living in my current apartment, I have to abide by my landlord’s desire to use only environmentally-friendly products. Which is why I spent last weekend sunning myself under fluorescent lighting, debating the relative merits of dish soap.

The problem is that, once you veer from the path of Old Dutch, you’re suddenly chasing the vanishing point of virtue. No deed is ever good enough. Say you need hand soap, and start out with the store brand. Well, you might as well go down to the local pond and choke all the fish yourself, with what that will do to the algae population. So, you pick up the slightly more expensive store brand, the one that has a tasteful green and brown label and the words organic on it. Well, that’s better, but not good enough – after all, it’s still full of chemical additives and fragrances, in spite of the microscopic amounts of “organic” olive oils. The next is not made locally, the next has cetyl alchohol in it, the next has no alcohol, but has sulfates… and suddenly you’re considering spending over twelve dollars on hand soap.

And this is the point where virtue eludes you entirely. At least, it did for me. Paralyzed between Island Essentials and Nature Clean, I realized my own privilege was debating itself, and wondered if it wasn’t somehow better to spend three bucks on SoftSoap and send the difference to Amnesty International. But then – what about the fish? Surely, the best thing would be to spend over twelve dollars on soap, still send off nine dollars, and do something about the plastic bottle, because it’s hardly biodegradable, NOW IS IT?

By the time I had worked through this exhausting mental calculus, I still hadn’t found the all-crucial integer for keeping food in my belly. So, I spent five dollars on the mid-range natural soap - tragically unscented so no one could smell the eucalyptus and French lavender fumes of my goodness - and left. After all, you can’t save the world when you’re faint from hunger.

Thoughts On A(n Unsturdy) Clothesline

The apartment dryer has died. I would mourn the passing, but really it's just meant my clothes are now full-on wet instead of a little damp, because the damn thing never really worked anyway. Unfortunately, I do need clothes. So, I've been taking advantage of one of the many benefits Point Saint Charles offers, besides an unparalleled collection of abandoned factories: CLOTHESLINES. Look, I know I'm getting a little weird and house-proud, but I love my clothesline. It makes me feel like a competent person to hang up laundry, although I have often forgotten it on the line and lost a few good towels that way. The clothes smell so good when they come off the line. Oh, and it's free and better for the environment.

Which, I feel conflicted about. I know that I should be more ecologically sound, part of a shift that our society should be making. Hell, I even listened to a frightening TVO lecture this morning about global warming, and how to current estimates we're working with are actually grossly optimistic. But it also annoys me that the steps shown and sold to us are so small, and so evasive of the real problems. This was part of the reason why I abandoned my Greening project, because I realized half of the steps involved buying new crap anyway. And the rest somehow led to a life without cheeseburgers, so no. It makes me want to slap every smug person carrying a reusable bag, especially when their bags loudly advertise that fact. Not because of the bag, necessarily, but because they probably didn't need what was in it anyway.

And then, I would have to deal with my own hypocrisy, because if my assault charge comes on a day like today, I would have shuffled over to my dep for overpriced ice cream and canned soup, probably sealed with the tears of Guatemalan orphans. And then carried my shame home in a reusable bag.

Protagi-green: Part 3

One out of one cats agree: Labour Economics is dull, and naps are good.

Sometime, between July and August, my social conscience came out of hibernation. Thus, I present to you Protagi-green: Slowly Greening Marty, or How to Get that Self-Righteous Glow (In Many Steps). Each week I'll try to make at least one change that will reduce my impact on the environment, and the wee cuddly beasties that live there.

Change 3: In Which I Try to Save Energy, and Am Late For Class
My next change for the environment was to cut my energy consumption. Now, as a poor university student, I don't own a car. I can't even set the heat for my apartment. So, I'm already relatively energy conscious, ignoring my secret dream to own a burgundy muscle car named "El Vigilante". But a steady diet of Treehugger and Worsted Witch gave me a twitch and the conviction that I could be better, god damn it, or else all the dead polar bears would be ALL MY FAULT.

Okay, I think Pistache the cat just farted.

Never mind, back to energy consciousness. ALL MY FAULT, WOULD THE DEAD POLAR BEARS BE. So, I decided to find ways to keep my energy down. I tried to remember to turn off the lights when I left the room. I put my computer and my TV systems on a power bar with a surge protector. Apparently these appliances suck energy even when they're on, like little energy vampires. I even took my wind-up alarm clock, with the pecking chickens, out of storage to replace my power-sucking one. And you know what? I must hate pecking chickens as much as I hate the polar bears. I always forgot to wind up that clock. I would set the time, set the alarm for 6:30, wind the alarm ringer, go to sleep... and wake up at nine. Sure, my favourite class begins at 8:30, but did being half an hour late stop me from confusedly lurching around the room, trying to get my stuff because I really had to go if I wanted to make it on time. No. No, it did not. I did start off well, however, with the power bar thing. At least in my room. There's nothing more depressing than flopping on the couch after a long day of academic and athletic classes, and wondering why on Earth your TV isn't working, and where your Simpsons are, damn it, so the TV power bar thing died ever so swiftly. I'm thinking of giving it another shot though. And this time I'll think of the penguins, the roly-poly penguins down at the South Pole. They won't grow up to crush my bones and eat my blubber.

Protagi-green: Parts 1 and 2

Just try and make me care about global warming, you bastards.

Sometime, between July and August, my social conscience came out of hibernation. Thus, I present to you Protagi-green: Slowly Greening Marty, or How to Get that Self-Righteous Glow (In Many Steps). Each week I'll try to make at least one change that will reduce my impact on the environment, and the wee cuddly beasties that live there.

Change 1: Ditching the Plastic Bags.

Plastic bags are the devil. There's really no way of getting around it, plastic bags choke the environment, take forever to degrade, and are just plain ugly. However, those bastards are useful. They're light but strong, you don't have to remember to pack enough when you go grocery shopping, and they can be used again as disposable lunch bags and as cat poo disposal units. And everyone is keen to give you some. If I don't have your hands on an item and are desperately stuffing it in your reusable bag, the eager bag jockeys will put it in a plastic bag. Even if the only thing you couldn't fit in your cloth bag... was a bag of milk. Which comes with its own bag. But I don't blame them. They get paid dick all, they have to impress the boss, and they could be made redundant at any time if my local Provigo decides to follow the discount route and cut the amenity of the bagger. And dropping a snotty "Thanks, but I prefer *sniff* that you use my re-usable bag instead, it's better for our precious environment." is not an option, because that makes you a dick. So, my solution is to eagerly toss them a bag, with a friendly "Here's some bags! Thanks!" and help put some of the stuff in. They seem cool with that, it doesn't make me sound like an enviro-dick, and I've really cute down on my plastic bag use. I even backpacked my liquor home from the SAQ.

So, what bags have I been using? I had my eye on these, but they don't deliver to Canada, and it seemed wasteful when I already had a bunch of perfect grocery bags kicking around anyway. So, I use one of my flowery totes made from some wacky plasticized floral print fabric, or that President's Choice bag obnoxious Galen Weston wanted me to buy, all good choices for grocery shopping. The benefit to having reusable bags is that they offer the shoulder-slinging option that plastic bags so sorely. I also have that Everlasting Bagstopper waiting for straps so that it can be stuffed in my backpack for those impromptu purchases. Unfortunately, I'm having some cash flow issues, and I think I'll just have to steal parts from the old clothes that weren't good enough to make it to Value Village. Thrifty and ecologically responsible... yes. But hardly pretty.

Part 2: Green Mah Kitteh!

See that beast of a cat up there? That's what Pistache looks like. Pistache probably takes up a small country's worth of carbon emissions on his own. Because Herr Chubfat needs a special food, I can't really green his meals. He drinks tap water like the rest of us. What else am I supposed to do? Buy him locally-made, artisan-crafted, ecologically-sound ceramic food bowls? A bamboo litter box? Sometimes, things just go too far. So, my admission is that his litter box is a plastic behemoth from the local pet store, probably made in China. And his food bowls were from the Dollar Store, probably the product of some crazy lead-spewing Chinese factory. Because he's just crapping in the litter box, and any kind of nice bowls would be destroyed by my clumsiness. So, I can only green his litter. And thus we started to use Swheat Scoop. It isn't strip-mined from the earth, it still clumps, and it won't cause lung problems for my kitty. And Pistache surely doesn't need any more problems. Now, would looking into holistic pet dandruff fall under "taking it too far?" Pistache loves Kaffe Fasset socks.