A Little Spring Rain

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

| | | 14 comments

Green Spring Rain

Note:  I was supposed to post this last night, but a headache (most likely sinus induced... allergy season... springtime's special little gift) and general crankiness got the better of me and I bailed before I could find the right picture for this post.  Here it is, however, in all its glory (to be attributed to it's capturer, FrenchSelfCatering as found via Creative Commons), and now my nighttime post is complete.  So.  On with it.

Oh, I'm just so creaky and tired!  But it's been so long since my last post that I'm feeling blogger guilt (I'm sure that must be a psychoanalytical term).  So, nothing doing but to shake off my evening sleepies, take another swig off this weird banana-flavored not-real cappuccino I got from the convenience store, and sit down to have a talk.  

Actually, I can't believe how disgustingly addictive this fake cappuccino crap is.  It's made from a powder and comes in a Styrofoam cup and I surely bought my ticket to tree hugger hell with the $1.30-or-whatever I paid for this unnatural stuff.  But... it's that odd hypersweet banana flavoring (think banana Now and Laters, but creamy and vaguely coffee-flavored) that just seems to hit the spot... well, for a minute, anyway, before I get sick of it... which usually happens well before I've finished half the cup.  My friend Sarah calls this phenomenon "that good gross."

Sigh... so, where were we?  Oh yeah.  Books.  And Detroit.  And dealing with the idea of making sure the masses will always have access to information, because education is the backbone of society.  All of that lofty/messy stuff.  And now it's officially spring and everything is green and it has been raining in my neck of the woods, off and on, for nearly a week straight.  This time of year, if you let it get to you at all, is work-work-work.  There are gardens to plow, spring cleaning to attend to, school projects to construct.  Suddenly there are outings popping up everywhere.  Farmers' markets are opening, and the lawn, which hasn't troubled you for months, is suddenly screaming for attention.  And all this rain.

I think this spring snuck up on me, however prepared I thought I was.  All this activity and life going on, when the dark cloudy rain reminds me more of fall and makes me want to roll towards hibernation again.  I shall endeavor to do better, however, and relish the rainy days while I can.  As stormy and persistent as they are in their time, I know spring rains are fleeting. 

All That We Leave Behind

Monday, March 28, 2011

| | | 8 comments
detroit-28

I've been pondering degradation lately—the breakdown of systems, of decay and dissolution.  I wonder if we're really, finally coming to that point of losing something vital in our country.  

This train of thought was born from two seemingly unrelated occurrences: the downturn of book sales across the nation and a photo collection I ran across recently of the demise of Detroit, Michigan.  

First, let's take Detroit.  These images haunted me and gave me more than a moment's pause.  On first look, they are sadly beautiful.  There is a grace to decay; that inexorable slide into nonexistence.  But then there is the realization—Detroit is turning into a ghost town.  In the 1950s, it was the 4th largest city in America.  One perspective is that Detroit's decline is largely due to the fact that so much of our labor is being outsourced, and so many of the goods we purchase now come from outside our nation's borders.  We've sold our soul to China.  Unfortunately, I don't think that's too far off the mark.  

Don't get me wrong—I have nothing against China in a historical sense... but they do disappoint in their current state.  Such a rich history... such beautiful culture and art... and now the only thing we see from them is the oppression of their people, and plastic, poorly made crap from Walmart.  How depressing is that?  This is the country we are in debt to... we, the “Leaders of the Free World,” are financially beholden to a country whose politics we (as a nation) diametrically oppose.  All in the name of “they can make it cheaper.”  They undercut the world by using cheap labor, cheap materials, and lax (if not entirely nonexistent) health/safety/workmanship standards.  It's to the point that, though I'm no economics expert, I'm pretty sure our economy would collapse if we stopped getting our cheap crap from China.  Whatever would McDonald's put in the Happy Meals?  Wherever would we get our computer parts and Levi's?

Just to humor me, take a look around your house and see how many of the things you own were Made in China.  If you'd bought that same item Made in America, it would've cost more... so, we go with the Chinese version.  It might not last as long (meaning we'll have to turn around and buy another one in a few months or a year... probably another Made in China model, 'cause it'll be cheap) and it might have been made by someone whose wage is a pittance of what we pay our burger flippers here in the States, but hey, it's cheaper, and that means we can buy two for the price of one!  The really hilarious thing about all this is, while our people are being laid off right and left, and places like Detroit are on life-support, you might not be able to find an American-made version of this whatsis if you wanted one... because China has the corner on the stuff-that's-made market.  

We've entered into a lose-lose situation.  Well, I take that back.  China is winning.  China and Charlie Sheen.  Hooray for tiger blood.

And then there are books... books that a lot of people have stopped buying, apparently.  I learned about this when all the Borders stores started closing in my town.  Granted, Borders made some mistakes and didn't really plan their business strategy too well, but I'm seeing reports of book sales falling for Barnes & Noble, too, and they're supposed to be doing just fine.  A friend of mine brought up the point that “everyone's going to Kindles now.”  This actually scared me a little.  

I'm trying to imagine a world where people... especially the lower middle class and lower class, can afford to buy Kindles or any other e-book reader on the market.  I've looked on Amazon.com... these devices all go for somewhere in the neighborhood of $100 - $300.  

Have you ever been poor?  Are you poor now?  I have been, and am pretty close to that at the present.  I remember the days when it was worse, though.  When I was on food stamps and then WIC and suddenly very aware of what government assistance won't pay for.  Things like toilet paper and cleaning supplies.  Things like Kindles.  It's been nigh on 14 years for me now, but not so long ago in the grand scheme of my life.  I can tell you, if I was there now, there's no way I'd be able to afford something as grand as a Kindle.  I wouldn't even be able to afford this laptop I'm typing away on, which is infinitely more useful than a mere e-book reader, and which, in my current financial condition, was procured by the skin of my teeth.  But I could probably afford the occasional paperback. 

So, let's say my friend's prediction is correct... let's say it's all going Kindle.  Are actual, physical books going to become as “vintage” as tape cassettes?  Or CDs, for that matter?  All the used CD shops in my town have gone or are going under.  Nobody buys them anymore.  It's all mp3s.  Are books going the same way?

Some would say this perspective is paranoid, I suppose, and normally I'd agree.  But it doesn't look that way to me anymore.  It looks a little like the gap between the haves and have-nots is widening still.  It makes me wonder how many people all of this technology is leaving behind.  

There are nights when my son has to use the internet to do his homework.  Not all the children in his school come from families who are “making it.”  Do they all have internet at home?  There's always the library, I suppose, but it gives me a sinking feeling, all the same.  

And, sure, there will probably be used books available for a long time to come... online, if all the traditional bookstores close up shop, but you can't buy things via the internet if you only operate in cash.  Many, many “disadvantaged people” (such a pompous term, but it does the trick) do not have credit cards or even bank accounts—therefore no bank cards—with which to make these internet purchases.  Why?  The reasons are various and sundry, but I used to be one of them, so just take my word for it, ok?  Perhaps you can't imagine a life without plastic money.  Or, perhaps, you can.  But it exists, either way.  And, I daresay, that portion of the population is growing, not dwindling.

So I wonder... I wonder who we're abandoning in all of this “progress”... is it ourselves?  I wonder, and I worry. 

Magenta Sun

Monday, March 7, 2011

| | | 8 comments
Once upon a time there was a little girl
whose favorite color was magenta.
Of all the crayons in her Big Box,
magenta was the most wondrous.
She colored the whole world magenta, this girl
Magic magenta people
Magenta trees
Magenta sun


Until one day, when she had grown big and strong
and wasn't a little girl anymore,
the world turned red.
Candy-apple red, the red of sports cars
and funky hats.
Red was the most wondrous of colors.
Strong and vibrant 
The color of pure conviction
The color of a dare 
The color of wildfires and will.

Her world was red, true Indian Paint Brush red,
for so long that at first she didn't notice
that her red was slowly being tinged 
with black, with purple, with dark.
The next time she looked, the red world was no longer the color of candy apples and sports cars
But the red of garnets, of blood, of wine
the red of being-all-grown-up.
Now she breathed the red of child birth and pain and regret
She walked the red of deep, real love 
The red of contradiction and betrayal
And the messy red of acceptance-- 
The deep, primal red of life.

She looked around, this blood-red woman,
this lady of deep crimson and poisoned apples
this woman of redemption,
and saw a little magenta girl
standing
right
behind her.
The red lady walked back a pace
knelt down a little
and smiled
the magenta girl took the lady's all-grown-up hand,
tinting it a bit with her own magical hue
and the two of them began to walk
into the magenta sun.


So now I have to know.  What's your favorite color(s)?  And what does it mean to you?

Ode to a Utopian Coffee House

Friday, February 25, 2011

| | | 3 comments
Coffee porn
I have been granted a few hours with nowhere to go and nothing to do, so I decided to try a new coffee shop today.  It's one I'd driven past several times and always meant to try, since I am currently without a "regular" place to go.  The problem with living somewhere for a long time is that, eventually, you get to know too much about the local scene, and while you want to support it, you also know all the dirt, so it makes who to patronize (in the good, monetary way, not the condescending, shitty way) a bit tricky.  One coffee shop has a good atmosphere, but it costs too much and the employees are snooty.  Another one has great coffee but a so-so atmosphere, so you can't quite get into the groove of the place.  There's always Starbucks (kind of like McDonald's--no matter where you go, there is always a Starbucks), but they're not local, and so they're the exception, not the standard.  And then there's that place with great coffee (shade grown, locally roasted) and great atmosphere, but who had (at least at one point; not sure about now, I haven't been back) shady employment practices... which I would only know because I knew one of their employees.  It was the little devil on my shoulder, one of my September girls (professional barista-waitress-bar-tender-Jackie-of-all-trades).  Sigh... she ruins everything.  (and I do hope she knows I'm kidding ;)

So now we're here, at this place... and I think I might have found a new home.  The coffee is good, the atmosphere is comfortable, the music is mellow--ambient and coffee-shopish without sounding like every song was written by Jack Johnson or the Indigo Girls (absolutely no offense to either artist or duo), which means it doesn't invade my thoughts if I don't want it to.  And, the best thing, I don't know any of this business's politics.  I can only hope they're good,  honest employers to those who brew my beverage.  

Being a responsible consumer is difficult in this day and age.  Very little is cut and dried.  I want, in my Utopian daydreams, to go to a locally-owned place that has music like that which I am experiencing right now (the current song sounds a hell of a lot like Sigur Ros--they're Icelandic and if you haven't heard them before, do check them out, they're amazing--music to drown in); lots of nooks and crannies in which to sit and be alone, if that's what you want; good, comfy furniture; shade grown, organic, fair trade coffees and teas; a good behind-the-scenes business ethic (man, I don't want to hear that you stiffed your employees their fairly earned wages or that you fired someone for some reason that should get you sued, except that you know the coffee-slinging employee in question isn't gutsy enough and/or flush enough to hire an attorney to do the deed... especially not on the wages you've been paying them); and staff that doesn't treat the customers like they're not coffee-shop geek enough to be cool.  Oh, and which doesn't charge exorbitantly more than the rest of the coffee shops in town.  Is that really too much to ask?   I suppose it must be because it seems so hard to come by.  But this place will do for now.  Not enough nooks and crannies, but the rest of the atmosphere compensates for that.  And I haven't quite sussed out whether the coffee and tea are fair trade...  

Who knows?  In a few more visits, this little place might earn my absolute loyalty.  That would be nice.  I need a place to feel at home, and it's good to know where your loyalties lie.

Sharing Something Sacred

Friday, February 18, 2011

| | | 0 comments
Please go to this link and read what's written there.  If you have time, listen to the interview.  This is beautiful and important.  I don't have time to say more.  But this I had to share.

http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/planting-the-future/kristasjournal.shtml