What Recycling is Not

Yesterday my co-worker was telling me that people that make a big deal out of saving the environment and then go have children are total hypocrites. I tend to think people can just be multi-faceted. However, the whole discussion reminded me of other things that masquerade as saving the planet but really aren't.

My nice brother and sister-in-law got us a subscription to ReadyMade magazine as a wedding present. It's a fun little magazine with some cute craft projects, most of which are beyond our abilities and/or level of patience, but which nevertheless seem nice and like something we might try . . . someday. (Several years ago, a friend and I stole the idea of the pillowcase skirt from ReadyMade, so you never know.) But there is a trend that ReadyMade influences that just kind of bugs me: calling something recycling that is not recycling. It may be hip to make something artistic involving some old household objects AND other materials, but it's not exactly recycling. Creative? Sure. Re-use? Maybe. Less of a waste of resources than buying something? It depends. But not recycling. Definition number 1 for Recycle: to treat or process (used or waste materials) so as to make suitable for reuse. And, okay, I understand that an argument can be made that turning something into art is processing it for re-use, but I just think it can be taken to extremes. For example:

El Esposo and I were recently trying to find out how to recycle a broken television we have. We found this little gem of an idea from "Marie" at some website called world.org under the "how to recycle a television" section:

Gut a dead television and place an aquarium inside. Fill with fish.

Odd? Yes. Interesting? Possibly. Post-modern? I think that fits the bill. But, to me, recycling is when you decrease the total amount of waste, not increase it by--say--buying an aquarium.

I'm not saying creating a lamp from an old radio (like we saw at Artomatic last week) is not cool, I just prefer not to bastardize the term recycling to the point that we forget that junk is still junk. Like, um, what am I doing with the rest of the television that I just gutted? And how will I eventually dispose of the aquarium?

Vinyl, baby

When I was in elementary school, 4th or 5th grade, I did an "independent study" on the music recording business for the nerdy/gifted class I was in. (Sidenote: this class basically saved my life as I was criminally shy and always felt uneasy in regular classes.) I studied how to make records. I remember going down to this big warehouse that was mostly devoted to manufacturing records and also had a recording studio, for this small-time recording company in Houston. I walked away with this big hunk of vinyl with a hole in the middle. It was like a record in embryo. So cool.

Yesterday, el esposo's co-worker GAVE us her old record player. So cool. She also gave us a pretty substantial record collection, which may be the oddest record collection ever. It's like nothing but B-sides, maybe C-sides, even. Basically, it's a lot of musak - translation: more boring versions of popular recordings as performed by more boring artists. However, there are some bizarre gems. El Esposo was particularly fond of this one:


Songs with the word "kiss" in the title as played on the electric harmonica. Oh yeah. How jealous are you?

Don't Look So Happy

That's what the security guard said to me this morning as I walked into the building. But, being the astute observer of vocal tone that I am, I could tell he was being sarcastic. We're not friends or anything, though I do recognize him as one of five security guards I am likely to meet upon entering the building. So a virtual stranger was basically telling what sort of facial expression I ought to have.

Here's the thing: I was in no way grumpy or in a foul mood at all. From what I remember, I was just thinking over some logic problem in my head--something I often do (while vaguely preparing to give some sort of courteous nod)--and he startled me out of my thoughts. The best I could say was "Oh. Sorry."

I have never figured out the right response in this scenario, which happens with relative frequency and has for pretty much my whole life. Since I was a kid, I have had a big tendency to both a) daydream and b) be totally unaware of my facial expressions.

So what should I say when someone points out an expression I am giving which I am totally oblivious to? (side-note: my husband does not completely buy my claim that I am oblivious, but just because he studied psychology doesn't mean he knows everything.) And is it cool for a complete stranger to be telling me what to do anyway?

I'm thinking if I had a prepared response to this situation, it would be a very handy piece of equipment for my life--nothing too snarky as I'm interested in simplifying and defusing the situation so I can move on. Do any of the 3 or 4 people that read this blog have an idea?

Literary Nerd Moment: Allusions in Bob Marley

So I'm not a Bob Marley scholar or anything, but the other day we went to this picnic to celebrate a friend's graduation. She's a writer, and as I well know, graduate school writers tend to either BE hippies or at least BEfriend hippies, so of course there were several Bob Marley fans at the picnic and before you know it El Esposo is playing Bob Marley tunes on a borrowed guitar and everyone is singing along. Could it have been otherwise? I don't know.

Fast Forward to this morning when I am reading the Old Testament in Genesis and I'm basically finishing up the Joseph in Egypt story, which--just as a reader, I must say--is the first truly compelling story in the Old Testament. And it is a redemption story. Anyway, I read this blessing from Jacob/Israel to his son Joseph (after he was sold into slavery by his brothers, spent many years in prison, eventually was promoted to be Pharaoh's CEO so that he became quite rich and powerful, and was able to provide for and forgive his long-lost family during a famine) in Genesis 49--note the bold text:

"22 Joseph is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well; whose branches run over the wall:
23 The archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him:
24 But his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob; (from thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel:)"

And what did I hear playing in my head?

"Oh Pirates yes they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Wont you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs."
--"Redemption Song," Bob Marley


The song is clearly talking about African Slavery at this point, but this is also a clear biblical allusion. It made me start thinking about Rastafarianism and its relationship to Judaism. I'm working on it.

boating fun

El esposo and I have not been doing anything that exciting lately. Partially because I've been stressed out and busy: job interviews, paperwork, lesson plans, grading, educating myself on home buying. There hasn't been that much time for fun. Which is dumb, actually. Fun is underrated I think. But last weekend we took some time to go camping. One of the highlights was rowboating. Watch as the pictures plus a few brief captions tell the story . . .


LCD rowing happily as we leave the shore


Me relaxing while LCD rows happily. Later my skin would take on a hue similar to my shirt. We forgot the sunscreen. Also, though my expression is slightly odd in this picture, it would later take on my patented look of frustration which you will simply have to imagine. That is because the rowing got really hard. It was especially really stinking hard in the shallow areas. Both of us had a hard time turning the boat around when on the edge of the lake. And I've been working out and everything! Well . . . once a week for the arms, but that's much better than usual.

Later we discover why rowboating was so much harder than we thought it would be:


LCD flashes his look of irony and defeat as he reveals the concrete slab of an anchor that had been in the water the whole time. Curses!

And thus, we turn the corner to Easy Street (job search over, one class to go), having survived five months of marriage. I think FUN is about to pick up.