Posts Tagged ‘landfills

22
Nov
19

Clothing an Ecological Hazard? As If!

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What’s this about eco-friendly clothing options, now? Clothing has become a landfill concern, like plastic bags and broken electronics? That’s crazy talk.

If clothing is an ecology concern, then the real root of the problem is our old frenemy, the economy. Long ago, someone wove an elegant spell which convinced countless souls to control the world through the demand of money in exchange for goods and services. Before long, people wouldn’t lift a finger without coin in hand. You see traces of that in rebellious children who don’t help their elders unless they are paid to do it; allowances, wages and such rubbish.

But, what puts such thoughts in someone’s head? Are adults to blame for passing it on to their children? Sure, parents tell their children they cannot have something unless/until they get a job and buy it themselves. That happens.

What is more common and suffocating, though, is the omnipresence of influencial media. Whether it’s the “old” way of jabbing your cranium with TV and radio commercials or the “new” mutation of pop-ups and the like on everything Windows-fed or Apple-based. I don’t own one myself, but I would not be surprised if someone had a watch-like device they wore on their wrist that could fire an image, a slogan, a salespitch a motivational message to do something financially-stimulating, simply because the technology we trust is powered by the economical machine.

There was a time when inventors invented things and struggled to make them last. Then, as their talents improved, inventions became durable marvels. But, some dark soul with financial aspirations, some golden-touch entity said, “Make it breakable so they will buy more.” And, if that’s not enough, the sales pitches have been non-stop efforts trying to convince you that new is better than old (even if a place called OLD Navy continues to thrive in its own way), that today is better than yesterday. Rubbish.

Back to the topic at hand.

Ecological concern over clothing? Try less impulse shopping. You might have to turn down the pop-culture, song-of-the-season commercialism and focus on necessity, on sustainable comfort versus temporary pleasure. Try lowering prices on cheaply made crap and charging price for genuine quality that you can guarantee to endure or replace, at least, until your value is proven. Because, these days, the brands that boast reputation have fallen so far from their old standards. I used to count on Jansport backpacks for lasting an eternity. I haven’t owned or bought one, in a while. Do they still hold up to their good name? I wonder.

Renting clothing? Can you believe there is such a thing? I can understand celebrities renting dresses or suits for some award show/party. But, everyday folks renting what they wear more…regularly? No way. No thanks. If I am renting clothes, I might as well consider myself a prisoner working in a laundry room for hundreds of other lost souls. I just can’t do it. I will not wear used clothing, mainly because it is my strange belief that used comes with history. And, I don’t want a stranger’s history attached to my body. It would be like wearing the suit of a man buried just last week. Sick. I can’t and won’t do it. And, I seriously doubt my decision will have any ecological impact worse than 98 percent of the human population.

If you want the honest truth, I wear my clothes until they pretty much bust. As of right now, I am due for a new wardrobe because most of my clothes…at least, the clothes I wear regularly, casually, are showing signs of decay. They’ve become senior attirizens and cannot be kept alive on deceptive drugs and poor caregiving. I am going to miss these clothes when I finally have to dismiss them from active use. I don’t know what will become of them, either. But, I really don’t care to think of some less fortunate soul wearing my rags.

So, really, is this an issue? Clothes in landfills, swallowing up Earth-space that we just cannot spare? Has the world gotten so lazy and careless that we have to be so concerned about every thing we do and use? Water, land, air… Have we gone so far to misuse our precious resources? Are we worse off than the days of excess hairspray and fossil-fuel emissions? Oh, wait, that’s still going on; isn’t it? This is just a new phase of pitching the same cry for help.

And, if clothes in landfills are a concern, then maybe we all need to stop wearing clothes and just start living in the nude in the woods and wherever we feel fit. Clothing has been around a very long time. I have never read of a past stage in human civilization that had a problem with such rubbish. If it is our present-day concern, then I put full blame on the economy and all of the excessive push for impulse shopping. That, dear fellow humans, is the enemy. Not the shirts on your backs.

I’ll give what I heard on TV one point. They said maybe people need to stop looking at shopping (for clothes) as a pasttime. Indeed. Well said.

[But, you want to know what’s a bigger landfill concern than clothing? Try about a million new toys people are trying to put up for sale, toys that often sound and look alike and are made of the smallest plastic parts, which are sure to become a hazard before they get famous. And, the ads just keep coming and vanishing; letting me know the toy didn’t last and is probably being added to a landfill as another takes its place. Yeah; let’s talk about the excessive use of plastic for merchandising. And, let’s knock on Disney’s doors and tell them to keep the noise down, because they’re motivating others to get their 15 seconds of fame and 100 years of landfill space. How can any kid truly love any of these toys that seem lacking in inspiration, lacking in repeat use/fun and lacking in quality to last? These are not beloved characters from historical stories like Archie and Marvel comics. Although, now that Disney has taken the reins of Marvel merchandising, that’s gotten out of hand, too.]

Yet, I know some older folks who seem to have nothing else to fill their days. I dealt with them as customers. I deal with them as family. They are lost for what to do with their less able selves. So, they turn to “bumming” just to “get out of the house for a while.” It’s kinda sick; ya know? It’s a sickness, and it’s sad.

Buy clothes that will endure and satisfy you for a long time, not just one day. Wear those clothes and care for them like children. Get the most out of your clothes, and your dollar, and you won’t likely have to worry about them harming your environment.

28
Jul
14

The Art of Excess

 

On a milestone birthday in the depths of space, a budding artist (with a face full of bubbling, molten craters) opened her eyes and marveled at the new tools provided by her parents. The intense, singeing light of her father and the softer, enchanting glow of her mother came together to wish their daughter well in pursuit of happy growth and enhancement. Vowing to make them proud, the young orb took a deep breath and went to work.

Her early efforts produced a multitude of lifeforms both stationary and mobile. The former consistently worshipped her parents while the latter were free to experiment, giving all who watched a source of amusement. Father and mother were indeed pleased. Their smiles burst with a brilliant energy which could be seen from galaxies away.
“Go on, my child!” said the father. “Create more! It gives your mother and I such joy to see you paint your surface with these colors! One day you shall be the crown jewel of our domain!”

So, the child continued to create and age. But, every now and then, her father and mother would drift apart, leaving her in the cold of deep space to wonder if what she created was still worthy of praise. In a fit of sadness and frustration, she struck herself with a large rock, hoping to free some promising ideas from her already cracked skull. Instead, it erased her vision temporarily, wiping a large portion of the art from her surface. When her parents returned, a new motif had taken over their daughter.

“What’s this?!” gasped the father. “Such a drastic change! What has made you tear down what you already made and replace it with something new?!”

“Father, each time I turned around, you and Mother left me alone,” said the young artist with a sigh. “I did not feel your warmth at my back. I thought you no longer approved of my work.”

“Look how they behave differently when I draw closer in your father’s absence,” said Mother with her cheeks aglow as she separated from her mate. “You honor us with your talents, daughter. Go on. Continue creating. You are just beginning to grow.”

Despite her concern and flickering confidence, the artist did as she was told. Nothing she made gave her the joy she had seen in her parents’ faces. Again and again, she changed her canvas while expending her vital energy (which, at the time of her youth, seemed infinite), each time hoping the next visit of her parents would be happier than the last.

When they did return for her birthday, she had yet another surprise waiting for them. Gazing upon the new creation, Father blew flames to the far reaches of space and withdrew. His color paled from an ardent red-orange to a weaker yellow. “What in the great cosmos are those?! And, what are they doing to each other?!”

Tilting her head ever so slightly, his daughter said, “I have not decided what to call them, yet, as they keep changing on me. I am leaning toward naming them Humanity. What do you think, Mother?”

Though her mate was dismayed, mildly cross and tempted to scorch the young artist’s hide, Mother, impressed with the new lifeforms (which could adapt themselves more readily than any other), showed enthusiasm. “They are certainly unique and interactive.” She paused to look away when one fierce band of the fleshy rebels destroyed another, leaving a gruesome stain on the daughter’s cheek. Refraining from preaching about cleanliness, Mother added, “Keep at it, my child. But, do not be so hasty to destroy what you have made. Let it mature with you. You continue to grow in wisdom though experience. Some day, you will shine as bright as your mother or–maybe–your father.”

With those encouraging words, the still youthful artist returned to her labors, working with her latest creation to “enhance” her appearance. [Meanwhile, her parents ventured off in mounting disagreement.] As the years rolled by, the ever-mutable clay of “Humanity” grew in quantity and violence, gradually wiping away portions of her previous work. Just when it seemed like the restless, pale and balding creatures might destroy themselves and everything remaining with them, a new crop would appear to start a revolution. But, the lifeless remnants of the previous batch never seemed to fully disappear. The cosmic strength to absorb injury and clear away the messes made diminished. Eventually, after several expansive conflicts, the bewildering competition amassed heaps of debris on the heavenly creator’s face.

At the dawn of her next birthday, her parents displayed looks of horror. Lakes of toxic sludge and smoking mountains of heavy filth nearly covered every inch of their daughter’s skin. They could barely see her worrisome expression and hear her trailing voice as she pleaded, “Father! Mother! Help me! I have lost control! I am falling apart from within! Help me!”

But, they could do nothing short of wiping her from the cosmos. Reflecting upon her own potentially misguided wisdom, Mother wept. Father slapped himself for being so hasty and persistent in the pursuit of pride. In search of other worlds to litter and ravage, some of the daughter’s tiny parasites ventured deep into space with the ships she provided. Following the errant paths of the wasteful machines over their shoulders, the parents retraced the eons of their previous attempts at raising children and wondered how their neighbors, the Andromeda family, fared so well. [What did they truly know about their neighbors? And, did they need to snoop?]

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“Surprise!” cheered her parents, stirring the young artist from her slumber. The latter rubbed her eyes and followed the visual cues of the former along the curves of her weathered frame. Though she had found herself drowning in darkness and despair only a moment ago, she was now glowing with a renewed sense of peace and a vigor. Gone were the mounds of death and destruction. Those tiny pests she had created were now working together as one happy community, no longer fighting over materials or each other. And, the older forms once thought doomed to extinction were now given their fair share of space to live as Humanity did.

“Happy birthday, my daughter,” said Mother with an earnest smile. “Just look at you, now. So grown-up. So mature. And, to think, a few eons ago, you were ready to throw yourself into the black hole because of some hideous eruption on your face.”

Her father, showing his age with the faintest tint of red in his thinning cheeks and forehead, added, “You have never looked lovelier than you do today, my child. You honor us both. And, look, our neighbors have brought you presents.”

The woozy artist squinted over her parents’ shoulders to see the handful of colorful visitors in the distance, each with tiny surprises headed her way. Neglecting to mention the former identity of the rock chosen as a meeting place, Mother and Father cleared the asteroid field to welcome the guests. Everyone had such a joyous time at the birthday party…

…Except for one tiny solar-powered ship carrying a lone green explorer who steered clear of all the commotion. He didn’t dare venture closer to those he could not yet understand. Instead, he continued his journey through space, watching the universe drift by as he decided what to do with the rest of his life.

 

 

~Writingbolt, 7-26-2014




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