I burned just a little less than about one fifth of a gallon of gasoline over the weekend… on six separate occasions I fired up the four horsepower motor on the boat that I borrow three times to get out of and and three times to get into of the harbor I sail from around a tight packing of sailboats in this tiny little harbor. Oh, I could have sailed into and out of the harbor; I’ve sailed into and out of tighter spots than this before; but its a rule I respect in respect for the feelings of the anxiety that sailing this close to the other boats may cause in the minds of the others who sail on the weekend in these small little boats from this tightly packed harbor.
I fired up the four horsepower motor to get through a lull in order to get my small little boat back into the small tight packed harbor on time… I’ve sailed through lulls before AND the wind was filling in from the south as per usual… but its not my boat I share it with others and I felt the need to respect the clock and make the boat ready for the next bunch of sailors.
I burned a little bit less than one fifth of a gallon of gas while sailing this weekend I thought to myself as I rode the packed subway to work again this morning… Last Friday I walked home from work and I boiled a few eggs under the light cast by the one florescent light bulb that lights the counter under the cabinets in my small but adequate galley style kitchen. I felt a bit guilty that the eggs weren’t from free range chickens but then again after all I was just going to mash them up and mix them with Kraft mayo and spread them on whatever bread was left over from last nights lovely dinner that we made with ingredients bought from our small local grocer. I can do better.
Don’t get me going!
I have to remind myself to find an alternative to the processed and prepackaged Kraft mayonnaise AND, I really should speak with my baker with regards to the source of their flower and the process in which they bake my bread in the late evening/early morning down the street from my tiny apartment. I should start walking to work more often; at least as often as I walk home. For after all, this slight decrease in the crowdedness may trigger the positive response which could get that one extra person riding the train rather than say, taking that cab that causes traffic congestion and leads to one more car caught idling in the intersection blocking the truck needed to cart that big bag of fair-trade coffee to the front door of my local coffee house. Cafe Collage not only serves up a fine cup of fair-trade coffee but posts signs to assures me that a small percentage of the change I drop into the tip jar does not go to top up the slavery like wages the proprietor pays his dread-braided student barristas; BUT that one penny from my fifty cent tip will be put into a fund that will go towards some cause they all can agree on at the staff meeting they hold every Friday. If only his monthly expenses don’t all of a sudden catch up to him like they did a few months ago when he cut all the hours and had one less employee to serve me my fine cup of fair-trade coffee.
Maybe tomorrow I wont buy the paper hoping that this sacrificial personal act of making a butter-fly-wing-flapping like gesture will resonate as a sound business decision in some boardroom the need to reduce circulation and save the bark off one of the trees in the acres of trees cut down up in Quebec that are required to print the 400lb Sunday edition of the Times that is chock full of stories about how we’re all trying just so desperately hard to save this planet for our kids whose diapers we have no clue what to do with since we protested sending barge loads of garbage sailing down the east coast to one of a dozen or more closed open-mine coal pits that we don’t know what to do with except definitely not using them as landfill sites where we can chuck all our garbage out of the site of the cameras that shoot all that footage for the six 24 hour news outlets we all have been watching…
Excuse me, I have to check on something.
I just looked out of the window of my office to find traffic moving well along the tangled ribbons of expressways that carry the single occupant SUVs that pour into the city looking for the ever more illusive parking spot at the foot of these bridges where they’re constructing yet another tall building full of 1,000 square foot condos that’ll be packed full of flat screens on which the owners can watch seemingly angry people bickering over whats the right answer to solve all our problem while wishing they had the time and energy to take out the bikes and ride past my building this weekend while trying to convince themselves they are making a difference.
Am I doing my part?
Apparently, I should be living completely differently being more vocal as I haven’t attended any rallies which definitely brings into question my devotion to the service of all the causes to make everything so much more better… I routinely question the dogma, that I read in the papers which makes me a suspect of not truly believing that everything I do is impacting the future. I walk without thinking, thinking that what I’m doing is actually taking step after step, the steps required to turn our society around before we coast at full throttle past this brink of disaster while the kids in the backseat watch “Happy Feet” over and over on the DVD player mounted to the roof of the Tahoe that they use to take them all kayaking. I’m a failure for not saying anything… while they continue to keep telling me over and over that they’re doing everything they can to live there life better than I live without thinking of the consequence that impact their kids futures.
But while you’re not looking maybe while you’re reading your paper; I’ll quietly keep doing the things that I’m doing. Not because I’m worried, nor because I’m trying. I could care less about your efforts, I laugh at your suggestion that I use less energy to do the things I am doing. Which of course is mostly walking around not thinking I could make any difference. I chuckle at the nylon get-up you wear on your bicycle as you ride up my street yapping and screaming about how wonderful it is you’re doing all the things that are required to make it all better. After saying what I’ve been saying I’m sure I hardly deserve it, but I’ll gladly accept my very own pat on my back for all the things I have and have not been doing. After all is this not what you are after when you put on that t-shirt and pack all those slogans into the back of the pick-up and drive over five hours to catch up with all of your friends as they try to get coverage to make sure we are all worthy of all this self congratulations?
I guess as they say, as per usual I could always do better but I think what I’ll do is continue to remain quietly doing the things that I’m doing.
