Sunday, May 8, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
For example, I've tried to nurture the habit of hanging my clothes (or folding them or putting them in the laundry basket) at the end of each day. The most consecutive days I've managed to do this is eight...and maybe I'm exaggerating that number. At any rate, this habit isn't happening. I've tried it in various locales and different seasons on and off for most of my life. It just won't grow for me.
Also, it was brought to my attention by a well-meaning and extremely efficient friend that clearing the dishwasher immediately after each load is washed is the key to keeping the kitchen neat and tidy at all times. What a simple idea. Unload the dishwasher after each clean load so you'll have ample room to hide the dirty stuff as it accumulates! What could be easier? This one I managed for 17 straight days...then I just couldn't.
Now it's this blog. My romantic ideals told me that if I could just post a simple something each day for 21 days straight, I'd be back to my original blogging glory. I was so determined and inspired by the idea that I mapped out the carrot on the stick: this very post about building habits in 21 days! I even searched the web for the perfect picture of a running nun. The problem is that external motivations hold no weight with me. True grit comes from the inside...not from some silly picture of Sally Fields flying around in a nun's habit.
So...here I am, giving into this habit post. What I discovered is that it won't go away, and I can't get that song by Chicago out of my head. I'm posting, and it's not 21 days or 21 posts later, it's just a catharsis of sounds and images. Not a habit at all.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Sunday, February 21, 2010
So I’ve been thinking (and not writing) that this blog space of mine might be contributing on a small scale to an increase in carbons in our ever-more fragile ecosystem. My reasoning has something to do with me allowing this space to sit idle much like a car pool mom sits alone outside the karate studio in her idling Cadillac Escalade reading teen romance novels; meanwhile, her little Kimberly is inside chopping away at the air and other little Kimberlies in an attempt to earn a belt of a new and more prestigious color. One day, Kimberly might actually use this defense skill to protect herself from the growing numbers of criminal types walking the streets waiting to pounce on seemingly defenseless Kimberlies; for now, though, it’s all about the accessories.
But here's the thing: I haven't been reading any romance novels--teen or otherwise. I've been reading really scary stuff about the demise of our planet and politics, and about how politics are contributing to the demise of our planet. At the heart of this war is our food supply. It's not safe. A trip to the grocery store may just as well be a stroll through a park planted with landmines. One night I actually found myself standing in the middle of the expansive produce section at my local Dan's not daring to pick out a single piece of produce for the poisons it could be harboring. Sure, I can use veggie wash to clean off the waxes and pesticides on the outside of the food, but there's nothing I can use to wash away the poison that was injected into the soil where this stuff grew up. This poison is now part of the plant's genetic code, and if I eat it, it will worm its way into my own.
And all this time, this blog space is sitting here idle, breathing precious cyber air. Right now, it seems that this new, paperless world we've created is safer for us than that carbon emitting world of processed trees and land lines, but are we sure? In 1973, the year I was born, the U.S. Department of Food and Agriculture was sure that their new and improved ways of growing and subsidizing corn would result in our country never again having to face food shortages driven by high cost and limited supply. They were right. But what they made certainly hasn't turned out to be better. What if a similar danger lurks here in cyberspace? What if it isn't limitless after all and my idle corner is slowly eating away a precious and non-renewable resource?
What if? I guess I better start using it--even if only to type useless blather. Kimberly needs to hurry on out of karate so I can rush off to another parking lot--piano, tutoring, ballet, soccer, harp--anything to keep my mind off this seemingly futile fight to win back the planet.