Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Page 63 of 187

I Want to Be a Samba Dancer

May 11, 2009 / / 26 Comments

Lately, I have read some posts where bloggers write about their longing to be “truthful and honest” on their blogs. I think about this issue, too, but I have a difficult time choosing my reality. What is truer — the facts of my daily life, my emotions connected with specific events, or the chaotic mess that goes on inside the head?

Yesterday, we took Sophia’s mother out for mother’s day. We went to a Brazilian restaurant. Sophia wanted me to dress up for her mother, but I brought very little with me from New York, so I hobbled together a look that was a fashion emergency. I wore blue dress slacks, a green shirt, black shoes, a brown belt, and different color socks. Just like the typical guy. In most ways, I am the typical guy. I don’t care what I wear. I would have preferred to wear jeans and sneakers.

In the restaurant, Samba dancers entertained the guests by dancing in the aisles. They were a lot of fun to watch. Did I fantasize about dancing with one of them? No. I fantasized about BEING one of them! For that moment in time, I was enchanted by their costumes. I wanted to be flamboyant like that, wearing feathers on my head, and shaking my goods for adoring fans. Imagine how good a samba dancer feels, knowing that all eyes are on HER!

samba1

samba2

samba5

So what is the real me? The schlumpy guy wearing two different socks or the one wishing he was dancing the Samba as a seductive woman? Can a man ever get the same amount of attention as a female Samba dancer? I doubt it.

If I were a beautiful woman, I would wear the hottest clothes, and strut down the street with my ass shaking. I would be like one of those women in those shampoo commercials where, after I washed my hair to near orgasm, everyone in the street would turn to look at me — the ultimate expression of glamour. I believe those commercials where the product is for a woman. I do NOT believe those Axe commercials where women jump the guy because he is wearing some crappy cologne.

So, what is my reality? Boring guy or closet cross-dresser?

Is this entire post bullshit? By tomorrow, I might think so. But for this moment, while I am typing this, this is my reality — because I am thinking about it. I want to be a female Samba dancer. I also think about threesomes and being an astronaut. So, what is reality?

After returning home from the restaurant, I told Sophia about my fantasy of being a sexy female Samba dancer. I was surprised that she WASN’T surprised.

“You would not be happy as a woman,” she said.

“Why not?” I replied. “I think it would be cool to have both men and women admire me for my beauty, mystery, and sensuality — something you just can’t get as a man.”

Just by chance, Sophia had just downloaded a new photo app to her iPhone, which helped her prove her point.

I would not be a good woman.

me2

Hi, Mom

May 10, 2009 / / 12 Comments

This morning, I was awoken by the voice of God.

“Neil, it is Mother’s Day.  Did you call your mother?”

“Nah.  What for?  It’s a dumb holiday.  I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“But Neil, you must congratulate her.  It is your duty.  After all, you have the best mother that I have ever created.”

“C’mon, God.  Let’s not go overboard.  Sure, she’s nice and funny, but there are billions of mothers out there.  How can you really say that she is the “best?”  Her cooking is pretty bad.  And she  refuses to watch the last ten minutes of the American Idol elimination night because it makes her “too nervous.”  That’s just weird.”

“I am the God of your Forefathers.  Of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  When I say that she is the best mother, I mean it.  I do not lie or do punk’d pranks like that crazy Kabbalah guy, Ashton Kutcher.  I speak the truth.”

“OK, bigshot.  Give me a sign.  A miracle.  Something that proves that you truly are all powerful.  Like a burning bush.”

“What are you crazy?  In Southern California.  One burning bush will cause a whole forest fire!  Can’t you come up with something a little bit less drama-queenish?”

“Hmmm… Ok, here’s  a challenge that is pretty impossible, even for you — let me see Julie Andrews, the biggest shiksa in the world, sing a song in Yiddish.  Only that will prove to me YOUR TRUE POWER!”

“I am the Lord, the One, and I shall produce this miracle!  Get ready to call your mother.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Anxiety Friday: Confrontation

May 8, 2009 / / 51 Comments

beach2

Last Sunday was a perfect California day.  Sophia and I walked to the pier.   There was an all-day jazz festival going on.   The stage was set up right in front of the Pacific.   Nearby was a small crafts fair, where vendors sold paintings, incense, and jewelry.  Sophia and I settled in and enjoyed the music.

beach1

While I was in New York, I had bad-mouthed Los Angeles.   New York seemed so much “real.”    Now that I was grooving to the music, performed by a good-looking, ethnically diverse group of jazz players, the blue sky and blue ocean as a backdrop, the weather perfect, I remembered what I loved about California.    Why deal with the grit and grime and bad manners of New Yorkers, when I can just hang out with the mellow dudes by the beach?

I always say that I feel more at home in New York, but in many ways, I am not a true New Yorker.   I’m not brash or in your face.  I don’t honk my horn or yell “Yo!”   One of my favorite bands is… The Eagles.  I don’t look for confrontation.  I avoid it, wanting to sit back and  watch the Tequila Sunrise.

I was listening to the third band of the afternoon, a terrific Latin Jazz quartet, when Sophia saw him marching through the crowd, holding his hand-written sign.   He was a Holocaust denier.   I had never seen one in all my life.    At the beach?   I certainly had never encountered one in New York.

Were there no other Jews on the pier on a Sunday?  This guy was walking around with this sign saying the Holocaust never happened, and everyone kept on with their business, drinking sodas, listening to the music, and shopping for jewelry.

beach4

“I’m going to say something to that moron,” said Sophia.

“No.  Forget it,” I said.

“I’m not going to forget it,” she said angrily.

Sophia is NOT afraid of confrontation, and I wasn’t keen on her going over there and making a scene.

“I’ll go over there,” I said.

“And take a photo of him.   Post it on your blog so then you can show everyone online what a jerk he is.”

I stood up and headed in the direction of the Holocaust denier.   I had no idea what I was going to say or do.   I had conflicting thoughts.   As a proud member of the ACLU, I knew that he had a fundamental American right to freedom of speech, even if his ideas are idiotic.   He wasn’t posing a danger to anyone, only annoying the shit out of me, and ruining the relaxing afternoon.

I slowly crept up behind up, and took out my iphone.   I wanted a photo of him and his sign.   As I neared, the anxiety took hold.    What would he say to me?   Did I really want to get into a heated argument with a crazy person?   What is the point?   What if this is his intention — to get people, especially Jews, all riled up?   Would it be better to just ignore him?   Why was no one else saying anything?   Did no one else give a shit?

I lifted the iphone to take a photo, my hand shaky, when I thought I saw him looking my way.   I wimped out.   I turned to my right hand side and made believe I was taking a photo of some artwork that was for sale at a vendor’s booth.

The vendor, an attractive, but heavily Botoxed blonde of about forty-five, immediately stepped in front of my iphone.   It surprised me, because I wasn’t even aware she was there, my focus was so heavily on the Holocaust denier.

“Did you just take a photo of this painting?”

“No.”

“I saw you take it.”

“I didn’t take a photo.”

“I saw you!”

My brain was working too slow to explain the whole situation — how I got nervous trying to take a photo of the Holocaust denier, so I faked taking a photo of her artwork as a distraction before I got my nerve again.     I showed her the iPhone screen to prove that the camera wasn’t on.

“Let me see the photos,”  she insisted.

This woman was getting on my nerves.   I looked over at the typical beach artwork that was displayed — the sailboat on the ocean — and wondered what was up her ass.

I opened the “camera roll” on the iphone and turned it towards the woman.

“You see?  Nothing,”  I announced.

That’s when she crossed the boundary of civilized society.   She reached out with her index finger and touched the screen of my iphone to scroll to the next photo.

“What are you doing?”  I asked.

“I want to see the other photos.”

“I already told you I didn’t take any photos.”

“I want to see.  I have a right.”

“A right?  A right to what?  To touch my phone?”

“This is my artwork.   It is copyrighted.  No one is allowed to photograph it.”

“That’s bullshit.   You’re a vendor on a public pier.   I’m free to  walk here and take a photo of whatever I want.”

“I don’t want you to take a photo of my artwork.”

“Fuck you!” I said.

I never say “Fuck you,” in public, but there was a nut holding a sign denying the Holocaust three feet away from her, and she was upset because some guy might have taken a photo with his iphone of her shitty painting!

I became confrontational, not with the Holocaust denier, but the art vendor.  I picked up my iphone and took a photo of her artwork.

“NOW I took a photo of your artwork,” I said, aggressively

“You CAN’T DO THAT!”

“I just did.   And there is nothing you can do about it.   This is a free country.  This is a public pier.   I pay for it with my taxes.    In fact, I don’t know who YOU are or if you live here.  I could go to the Redondo Beach mayor’s office and make sure YOU don’t come here again.   As long as I’m not selling the photos I just took for profit, I can take as many as I want.   This isn’t a museum.  Sell them in your house, then you can make the rule.   Right now, you are on public property!”

By now, my voice was loud and obnoxious, just like a stereotypical New Yorker’s, and was attracting attention from all the mellow jazz lovers.   The Holocaust denier turned my way.   Oddly, by yelling at the art vendor, I had just made an argument for him.   This was a public space.   I could take photographs of amateurish paintings of boats, and he could legally walk around with a sign denying the Holocaust.

“Asshole,” I said to him, and took a photo.

beach3

Bathroom Humor

May 5, 2009 / / 35 Comments

Sophia went to her new therapist tonight.   I waiting for her at a Coffee Bean near the office.

After he session, she came and said, “I talked about YOU to the therapist.  He thinks you may have OCD.”

I have self-diagnosed myself many times, but OCD was never on the list.  I’m sure my father, who flossed twice a day, had OCD, but not me.  I consider myself more “generalized neurotic anxiety.”

“I do not have OCD,” I told Sophia.  “Your therapist is wrong.  I have no idea how he can make this statement without ever meeting me.  What is he basing this on  — What YOU tell him?”

“It makes sense to me.”

“No, it doesn’t.  I don’t wash my hands all the time.  That’s OCD.  In fact, I haven’t washed my hands at ALL today!  So, there!”

“That washing the hands thing is sixty year old Freudian analysis.  That is so out of date.  OCD is much more complex nowadays.”

“I’m not OCD.  He’s wrong.”

“Didn’t you tell me that your first girlfriend dumped you because she nicknamed you “Repetitive Motion” in the bedroom.”

“I was new to the sport.  I thought that’s how it was done.”

“And frankly, I always your “Five Second Rule” a very annoying method of oral sex.”

“It’s a scientific fact.  Just like quickly picking up the cookie off the floor.  If you take the tongue off the clitoris within five seconds, you avoid the germs.”

Is Sophia’s therapist correct?    Out of pure coincidence, I wrote the following post two days ago.   The theme was “bathrooms.”    I never published, thinking it dumb and not worthy of your attention.  Now, I’m wondering if it wasn’t a cry for help —
———————————–
Part of the creative process is seeing connections between random events. Sometimes the artist is not even aware of how he is connecting the dots of his daily life.   It takes a wise friend or a therapist to expose the patterns.   Why don’t YOU try to be my therapist for the day and see if you can FIND THE PATTERN of my existence?   Who am I?   Why am I constantly focusing on this one mysterious subject?   What does this say about me?

It all started at the walk n New York for the March of Dimes.   I was walking next to two lovely bloggers — Isabel Kallman and Mihow — and discussing the question of the day — “What happens if one of us has to use the bathroom as we are walking?”  I admitted that I would rather pee in the subway than be stuck inside one of those claustrophobic Port-o-Potties.   Isabel, being a true New Yorker, was a connoisseur of finding the classiest bathrooms in the city, and told us how in high school, she used to sneak into the Plaza Hotel.

“I tend to avoid five-star hotel restrooms,” I replied, “because they have attendants, and then I feel obligated to give the guy a dollar for handing me a towel, and I feel the same away about peeing that I do about using Twitter — it shouldn’t cost me anything.”

Always an entrepreneur, I immediately came up with a proposal for a best-selling travel book, “The Best Rest-Rooms to Sneak Into When You Have to Pee in America.”  My hopes were dashed when Mihow said that someone already had written that book.

The next day, I went with my mother to Target, where we bought a new toilet seat.  I told her that I was an experienced toilet-seat switcher, having done this task for Sophia, but when I attempted to remove the seat, it wouldn’t budge.   One of the screws in the toilet seat was so rusty, I could not remove it.   I sat on the bathroom floor for an hour, struggling with the toilet seat, not one of my favorite activities.   Eventually, my mother had to call the super to help me change the toilet seat.  I felt like a failure in my mother’s eyes.   My mother gave the super a five dollar tip.    I sulked.

Are you noticing a theme developing?  Let’s recap.  At the March of Dimes march, I spoke to fellow bloggers about peeing in hotels.  The next day, I spent an hour in the bathroom trying to switch the toilet seat.  I also disappointed my mother, something a therapist would probably write down in his notebook.

On Friday, I had a flight to Los Angeles.  My mother woke me up five hours before the flight!  She gets nervous about flying and is obsessed with “getting there early.”  She was making me so anxious in the apartment, as she paced back and forth, that I took her advice, and went to the airport two and half hours before my flight.   At the airport, I drank two cups of overpriced coffee, and then decided to use the bathroom in the JFK terminal.   I knew I had a window seat on the flight, and I am always reluctant to ask the passengers to let me out in the middle of the flight if I had to go to the bathroom.  Besides, I hate those tiny restrooms on the plane!

The men’s bathroom at the Virgin America terminal at JFK was nice and clean, newly remodeled.  I went to the urinal, and unzipped, when — OH SHIT, there was a giant cockroach or spider or some winged insect right inside the urinal, ready to jump out and bite me!

urinal2

I flushed the toilet to down the monster, but it didn’t budge.  I was relieved to learn that it was only an emblem engraved into the porcelain of the urinal.  I sneaked a look at the other urinals, and each one had the same weird insect emblem.  It was the logo of the urinal manufacturer!  What freakin’ weirdo company uses an insect as their company logo and puts it on the inside of public urinals for men to look as they pee, their dicks in their hand?

It was my first time on Virgin America to LA, as I usually go with American Airlines.  My father, who was a bit anal and hated change, only flew ONE airline.   Virgin was fairly pleasant.  The flight attendants were young and pretty, and the atmosphere was a lot “hipper” than staid American Airlines.  It seemed as if every passenger had a blackberry or iphone or their own personal DVD player.  At first, I thought this was cool, but this trendy, geeky, technology-obsessed crowd grew tiresome within the first half hour of the flight.  Everyone was lost in their own worlds.  The girl sitting next to me was writing a screenplay on her Mac.  Before take-off, she spoke LOUDLY on her phone to her lesbian lover in Los Angeles, who was apparently very upset about her taking a job in New York, and worried about her seeing some other woman working on a Woody Allen movie.  Within five minutes, I knew this entire woman’s life.  I actually missed having one of those old-fashioned annoying passengers, who sit next to you who TALKED TO YOU for the entire trip!

Virgin America had online internet for $12.95.  I splurged, intrigued by sending emails from thirty thousand feet.  .  Unfortunately, the passenger in front of me leaned his seat back, making it virtually impossible for me to open my laptop fully.  I had to rotate my laptop at a 45 degree angle just to be able to see the monitor. With not much to do, I spent a good amount of my trip writing nonsensical message on Twitter, mocking the woman sitting next to me.  On the back of the chair there was a animated map showing the plane’s route.  My other idea of fun was to messenger bloggers from around the country as I flew over their state.

@Gorillabuns — Hey, Shana, I am flying over Oklahoma.  Waving at you!

I must have seemed very lonely.  I was.

At some point, I started kvetching to my online friends about how uncomfortable it was to be crammed in like a a sardine.

“Soon, the airlines are going to start charging extra if you have a rib cage and arms.”

I then asked a question on Twitter that has puzzled me for years.

“I have always heard of joining the Mile High Club?  But how does anyone find any room to have sex in an airplane?!”

Others explained to me that this activity usually takes place in the restroom.

“Yuch!”  I replied.  “It’s so disgusting… and tiny in there!”

I would think the airplane cockpit would be the best spot.

Editor’s note:  Have you noticed another mention of bathrooms?

Sophia picked me up at LAX.  It was nice to see her.

“I just want to stop at Target on the way home,” she said.  “The toilet seat cracked downstairs and I want to get another one.”

I couldn’t believe me ears.  I had just been to Target a week earlier, buying a toilet seat in New York with my mother?  Why were there so many toilet seats in my life?

“The toilet seat with the dolphins?”  I asked Sophia.   Didn’t we just buy that?!”

“No, we didn’t.  We’ve had that for four or five years.”

“That’s not true.  We bought it last year.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m right.  And I’ll prove it to you.”

I took out my iPhone, went on the internet, and found the blog post from April 2008, where I discuss us buying this new toilet seat for the bathroom.”

I had won!

“You have OCD,” she said.

Power Struggles

April 30, 2009 / / 33 Comments

armada1

I’m flying to Los Angeles on Friday for a couple of weeks, partly to take care of work-related matters.   I’m already feeling the anxiety.   Writing in Hollywood does not exactly fit my personality.   Networking is essential and there is a good amount of backstabbing.    In the entertainment industry, the aura of power is very important.   While I do have a competitive side, I would probably make a better junior high school English teacher.   That is more “me.”

One of the reasons I love blogging so much  is that I can avoid this competitive nature of writing.   Where else can I write a silly story and have pretty girls show up and applaud?   I don’t have to deal with agents or schmooze with people I don’t like — and best of all, the hero in the story gets to be ME, not Matthew McConaughey.

As blogging matures and becomes more business-like, it becomes just like Hollywood, which is people struggling for attention and power.   This used to trouble me, but now I just accept it.   It is human nature.   Sadly, life is less like a John Lennon song, and more like a game of music chairs or singing on American Idol.

I enjoy reading posts about the mom bloggers, because they are the most “successful” of the personal bloggers.  They have the most at stake, so there is always some internal drama going on that rivals “All My Children.”   “Important” moms argue over who is the most “influential,” as if motherhood was now a spectator sport.   Some writers now spend more time fighting over the direction of mommyblogging — what to say, what to do, what to call “mommyblogging” — than discussing their daily life.

I learn from these strong-willed individuals, much as I did with Sophia.   I have no problem with women being power brokers.  I wish I could be as strong and as sure of my opinions and wants.

You can catch up on the latest drama as my friend, Erin, Queen of Spain, who once rallied mom bloggers to “become a business,” now outs new bloggers as “carpetbaggers,” because they skip the “content” part of the writing completely, and just do giveaways.

I don’t disagree with Erin.   The bigger question is “who calls the shots?”   Who decides what a mommyblogger, or any blogger, should or shouldn’t do?   Who gives community leaders the power to speak for other individuals?

A commenter on Resourceful Mommy said it better —

What I find funny about this conversation (and several other conversations similar in topic and tone) is that the original Big bloggers were some of the first to push boundaries–the first pursued for reviews, the first to be paid bloggers and blog community leaders, the first to set up businesses connecting companies with bloggers.

It’s okay for one generation to redefine and raise eyebrows, but now everyone else must be controlled by their limits?

When there are limited resources, there will always be power struggles.  It doesn’t surprise me that as the economy has faltered, there has been more nastiness online.  People have agendas, sometimes personal, sometimes political.  This is the same for men and women.  Just watch an episode of “Survivor.”

stuart

On Saturday, I saw a production of Mary Stuart on Broadway, with Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter as Mary Queen of the Scots and Queen Elizabeth 1.   As with many dramas that were first produced in London, the acting was phenomenal.   I don’t know if I would recommend it to everyone.   It is talky, and I found myself dozing off a bit during the first act.    Luckily, during the intermission, I went into the lobby, turned on my iphone, and read about history on Wikipedia, filling me in on the backstory of this great power struggle of the 16th Century.

After the death of Mary Tudor, Henry II caused his eldest son and his daughter-in-law to be proclaimed king and queen of England.    From now on, Mary always insisted on bearing the royal arms of England, and her claim to the English throne was a perennial sticking point between Elizabeth I and her, as would become obvious in Mary’s continuous refusal to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh. Under the ordinary laws of succession, Mary was next in line to the English throne after her father’s cousin, Elizabeth I, who was childless.   Yet, in the eyes of many Catholics, Elizabeth was illegitimate, thus making Mary the true heir as Mary II of England.   However the Third Succession Act of 1543 provided that Elizabeth would succeed Mary I of England on the throne.

This was an epic battle between two powerful women, between family members, between two religions, that changed Europe and the world forever.

Clearly, Erin of the Queen of Spain (funny how everyone wants to be a Queen!)  is not going to chop my head off for writing this.   She is a very nice women.   As I mentioned earlier, I learn from these dramas.  I shy away from conflict (at least in real life), although I admire those who take a stand and fight for it.   We all have to push ourselves if we want something worthwhile.   Even something as beautiful as all the money collected for the March of Dimes last week for Maddie required volunteers organizing and pushing for money, and focusing our energy on the importance of this charity, opposed to the many other good charities in the world, like prostate cancer or muscular dystrophy.  Even Good Deeds requires leadership and someone (or some organization) getting slighted.  Everyone wants the attention focused on them.

I perfectly understand the feeling.   One of the problems in my marriage was this feeling of a power struggle, over “who was in charge.”

Today, my mother and I were walking in Times Square when we encountered men dressed as cartoon characters. Kids would run up to, say SpongeBob, and the parent would take a photo. At first, I thought these were sanctioned characters presented by the Disney Store, but then I noticed that Sponge Bob was pushing for tips, and that the “Elmo” character was in direct competition with SpongeBob. He seemed to be pissed that the kids considered him “2008” and only wanted a photo with SpongeBob instead.   Two blocks away was the production of Mary Stuart, but I didn’t have to pay a hundred dollars a ticket to see great drama.  It was right in front of me.   Two hard-working guys (or gals), stuck in hot, uncomfortable costumes in the heat, battling for tips from tourists from Germany.

Another example of limited resources, and a power struggle for dominance.

Now, honestly.   Where ELSE can you ever read a blog post comparing mommybloggers, 16th Century English royalty, and SpongeBob?

By the way, the exchange I had with my mother over these cartoon characters was amusing.

My mother and I encountered Sponge Bob in the center “island” in the middle of 42nd Street.

spongebob

Mom:   “Who’s that?”

Neil:  “Sponge Bob.”

Mom:   “Is he supposed to be a piece of swiss cheese?”

Neil:   “No, I think he is supposed to be a sponge.”

Mom:  “Kids play with sponges?”

Neil:  “I’m not exactly sure he is a sponge. Let me ask my readers.”

I took a photo of SpongeBob with my iPhone.

Mom:  “You should take a photo of Oscar too.”

Neil:  “That’s Elmo.”

elmo

Mom:  “Everyone is taking a photo of the sponge, but no one is taking a photo of Elmo. Look at him. He looks so sad. He must be shvitzing in that costume.”

Neil:  “I don’t want to take a picture of him.”

Mom:  (Jewish motherish)   “Go on. Take a picture of him. You know you want to.”

We crossed the street and immediately ran into Mickey Mouse and Shrek.  While SpongeBob and Elmo were doing their shtick for tips on “the island,” these guys seemed to be professionals hired by Disney.

Mom:   “Hey, it’s Mickey Mouse!  You want a photo of him?”

Neil:   “I don’t like Mickey Mouse.”

Mickey waved at me.

mickey

Mickey Mouse:   “Hello. Do you want to take a photo of me?”

Mom:   “Go ahead, Neil.”

Neil:  “No, thanks.”

Mickey looked disappointed.

Mom:  “What about a photo of Shrek?

My mother looked Shrek over.

Mom:  “I thought Shrek would be bigger.”

shrek

Neil:   “It’s not really Shrek.”

Mom:   “I know that.   He’s in the Disney musical.”

Neil:  (to Shrek)   “Are you and Mickey working with Disney?”

Shrek:  “Yes.”

I pointed over to SpongeBob and Elmo.

Neil:  “And what about those guys?”

Shrek:   “I don’t know WHO they are.   They’re just doing it for the money.   They don’t care about the children.”

Mickey overheard our conversation and came over.

Mickey:  “Those assholes are stealing our customers.”

Mom:   “No wonder they call Bob a sponge.”

Neil:   “Don’t they need a license?”

Shrek:   “Who knows?  (to Mickey)  We should tell the cops on them.”

Mickey:  “Good idea.”

Mom:  “C’mon, Neil. NOW you have to take photos of your new friends!”

I caved in and took photos of Mickey Mouse and Shrek.   I lost the power struggle with my mother.

Earth Day Meme

April 22, 2009 / / 23 Comments

chicas

Assignment:  Ask Five of Your Favorite Bloggers to Do a “Green” Meme

Imagine there existed a system to measure a person’s “commitment to a green lifestyle.”  At one end of the spectrum, is the person who measures 0.   This person doesn’t care about the environment.  Sometimes, we give another name to this type of person — a Republican.  (ha ha, just a little political humor there)  This “zero” environmentalist doesn’t worry about the planet and has no problem throwing his trash in the street.

At the other end of the spectrum is Ed Begley Jr.  He measures a 100.  He is such a nut that he rides a stationery bicycle to power the solar panels that supplies electricity to his house, or something like that.

Six months ago, I started writing posts for the Brita Filter for Good blog.  At that time, I measured a, uh, let’s say –  40 on this imaginary environmental scale.    I already cared about the environment, at least in theory.  Caring about the planet is nothing new to me.  Any New York City public school child in the 1970s and 1980s was bombarded with information about pollution and “no nukes.”  In fifth grade, I wrote a letter to the Prime Minister of Japan, insisting that he stopped killing the whales, and that I personally held him responsible.  I have been to Earth Day concerts in Central Park and Heal the Bay walks in Santa Monica, marching twenty feet behind Ted Danson.  Most of these gestures have been symbolic, even fun, because these events were also good places to meet liberal, sexually-confident girls who didn’t wear bras.

I have now written about my “green journey” for six months.   But have I really changed?  I think I have, maybe not as much as I hoped.  I’d say that as of Earth Day, 2009, I now measure a 69 on the imaginary environmental scale.  That is an increase of 29 points!  (and by coincidence, 69 happens to be one of my favorite numbers).  I am better educated, more aware, and have started to take concrete steps to do my little part for the planet.

In honor of Earth Day, I am participating in a meme with the other bloggers from the Filter for Good blog.

What are five ways that I can make a difference during this Earth Month?

Of course, as usual, I am late to the game, and have only published this meme on April 22, which is good for Earth Day, but a little late for Earth Month.  So, I am going to revise the question a bit and ask this question instead —

What are five green things that I can start NOW on Earth Day that I will keep on doing for at least another month?

Later on, I will be inviting you to participate and do this meme yourself!

My Five-For-Good Answers:

1)  I Will Continue to Educate Myself.

This might seem like a easy first choice since it doesn’t require me to do anything particularly green.  For me, it is the most important step.  Every action that I have taken during the last six months was because of my education.  By reading books and websites written by authors who actually KNOW something, I have gained an understanding of WHY I should be so worried about our planet.  Rather than acting out of peer pressure or ignorance, educations helps me make my own decisions.  I have even made some non-green choices.  I do not bring a burlap bag to the supermarket.  I take the supermarket bags and use them, rather than buying Hefty garbage bags.  I feel OK with this, because I took the time to think the situation out.

When I was a teenager, I was “for the environment” because it was cool, and rock stars gave concerts. Now I am motivated by the scary facts, particularly about global warming.

2)  I Will Not Waste Electricity

Remember this post titled “The Can Opener,”  in which I was amazed to learn that I was one of the few Americans who still used an electric can opener?  I am an electricity waster.

In a recent post on Filter For Good, I revealed a dirty little secret —

I always viewed electricity as clean energy, in contrast to the dirt that came from the exhaust pipes of our cars. While I intellectually understood that electrical energy had to come from somewhere, it was removed from my view, much like I order a hamburger without having to think about the animal that was killed.  In the past, when I shut off the lights when I left the room, it was to save money, not because of the environmental impact.

It is easy to get lazy with the use of electricity.  It is always “there” for our use.  Recently, I came back from a two week trip from Florida.  When I walked inside, I noticed that the living room light was on!  At first, I was nervous.  Did someone break in?  Then I remembered how I rushed out of the house to catch my flight and I forgot to shut the light.  What a waste of money and energy.  I should be booted from this green blog because of that mistake!

With the next month, I will be shopping for a more energy efficient air-conditioner in the living room.

3)  I Will Buy Green Household Cleaners

I’ll admit it.  I used to make fun of those of you who would buy green cleaners.   C’mon, give me a break.  Companies will sell you anything, you suckers.   Too much of a wimp to use regular ol’ Ajax?  Then I read more on the subject —

The creators of most green cleaning products claim that they avoid some of the chemicals that are suspected to be harmful to humans and the environment, especially when these chemicals are washed down the drain. Although studies are conflicted on this issue, most environmental groups believe that the chemicals in tradition cleaning products can impair neurological functions, or act as respiratory irritants and carcinogens. Labeling on these products is confusing, and most consumers don’t know what these products contain. Many contain phosphates, which can deplete our water supply of oxygen. With 80,000 chemicals in use today, scientists are not sure which one is potentially dangerous. This seems like a good reason to spend an extra dollar for the “green” cleaning product.

4)  I Will Bring My Own Coffee Mug

People have been doing this for years.  I have never done it ONCE.   I have no excuse other than laziness.  Every day, I go to the McDonald’s across the street and order a cup of coffee.  Why add the paper coffee cup to the landfills?  Why not just bring my own mug?

But will McDonald’s fill it?   Has anyone ever brought their own coffee mug to McDonald’s?   I’ve seen customers bring their own mugs to Starbucks, but ultra-corporate McDonald’s?

5)  Buy Organic

This is a subject I want to better understand.  What is real and what is marketing?  I can appreciate how local fruits and vegetables taste better.  Less chemicals are used.  Energy is not wasted in transportation across the country.  I still feel that there is a bit of marketing involved, and that some organic products are just gimmicks, created just to sell products at a higher price.  However, for the next month, I pledge to buy more fruits and vegetables from the farmers’ market in order to buy locally.  This is a big step for me, because I hate spending extra money when tomatoes are on sale at the supermarket.  But, hey, Earth, you are worth it!

Would you like to make any “green” one-month commitments on this Earth Day?

The rules are simple. (Editor’s note:  Actually THEY say it is “simple.”  I find it a big confusing, but I’m going to shut up about that and just copy it — )

Post five things you plan to do for the environment over the next month on your blog. At the end of your list, tag five of your favorite blogs, and include a link back to this post using the hyperlinked text “FilterForGood Blog Meme Contest.” Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs, or on their Twitter accounts (using the hash tag #FFGBlogMeme). Also, be sure to include these rules at the bottom of your post.

An Extra Bonus

At the end of Earth Month, FilterForGood will choose a few lucky bloggers who posted their five things to win some Brita/FFG gift packs to help you go green! Be sure you link back to the original meme post [http://www.filterforgood.com/blog/?p=1407] to enter the contest!

How about you — Letter Girl, Finn, Twenty Four at Heart, Miss Grace, and Stacey?

I Have to Do a Meme

April 14, 2009 / / 23 Comments

Have you ever noticed this Filter For Good widget in my sidebar?   I write once a week for a “green” blog, detailing my  journey as I become more environmentally aware.  There are other bloggers involved in this project, dedicated individuals who know what they are talking about when they write their weekly posts.   My role is to be the village idiot.   My posts tend to be about baby steps, and important issues such as “Recycled Toilet Paper:  Is is Soft Enough For Me Or Would I Rather Just Destroy the EcoSystem and be Happy with My Charmin?”

Today, I got an email from the find folks at Brita, who sponsor this blog, “requesting” that I take part in a meme this week.  I am supposed to list five “green” things that I have initiated this April, which is also now known as Earth Month.   Didn’t it used to just be Earth DAY?  Now it is a whole MONTH?   Why do all of our holidays get longer and longer?   Christmas also used to be one day, remember? — December 25.  Now the official shopping season starts on August 28th, when Rite-Aid starts decorating the Christmas aisle.

So, be prepared for my upcoming “green” meme, probably tomorrow.  I only mention this, because throughout the years, many of you have invited me to participate in YOUR delightful memes and, well… uh, I NEVER do them.   If I am so anti-meme, why am I choosing to do THIS meme?

Go back five paragraphs.  Notice that when I first mentioned this meme, I said  “I got an email “requesting” that I take part in a meme.”   Look at how I use “” around the word  “requesting.”   Have I told you that they PAY me to do this?  Can you see how this “request” is similar to the “favor” that Don Corleone might ask of the owner of a tiny Italian restaurant in Little Italy?

Don Corleone:  “Neiloni, my dear friend.  I have a favor to ask of you.  I realize that it is midnight and that your restaurant is closing, and that you want to go home and spend time with your family and watch American Idol, but I have a taste for some of that excellent lasagna that only you can make from scratch.  Would you do me a FAVOR and cook it for me?”

NOW do you understand why I am going to do this meme this week, when in the past, I have only spit in your face when you asked me to do your meme?

One more thing.  Remember the post I wrote a few days ago where I was all worried about the reciprocal nature of blogging. and most of you were all “stop worrying, Neil” and “we love you, Neil” and “it doesn’t matter if you ever read or comment on my blog because I will come here to read and comment on your blog no matter WHAT,  because blogging is not reciprocal and we don’t expect ANYTHING from you in return?”

I’m going to need to ask FIVE of you to do this meme.    Ha Ha  (nervous laugh)

Condolences

April 13, 2009 / / 8 Comments

The more people we know online, the more heart-breaking tragedies we will be sharing with our friends on the blogosphere.  I question whether all of this twittering, blogging, asking for donations, changing the color of our avatars, and begging for celebrity tweets is the right response to the learning of the passing of a child, or a blogger friend fighting cancer, or someone on Facebook having their home destroyed by a hurricane.

Maybe there isn’t an adequate response.   Everyone is just trying to find their way.  None of us know exactly what to do during these sad events, or whether we should be doing it in such a public manner.  I hope the families of Thalon and Maddie accept our sincere condolences from this virtual online family.

Gorillabuns is the name of the blog of my good blogging friend, Shana.   You can help Shana and her family by donating.  (thank you, Whoorl)

thalon_sb

The Spohr’s Remember Maddie site.  I will be walking in the March of Dimes march for babies with other New Yorkers.  Come join us or sponsor us.

leftcolumnheaderpng

Anxiety Friday – New Post!

April 10, 2009 / / 35 Comments

The goal of Anxiety Friday is to share some of my anxieties with you before the weekend.  Hopefully, this will allow me to better relax by transfering my angst onto you.  Thank you very much!

This week’s topic will be blogging.

Most of you seem to be so NORMAL — and relaxed — about the blogging experience, caring about each other, coming and going with the friendliness of a country pastor at a church picnic.  Why does the reciprocal nature of blogging give me so much anxiety?   Am I petty, over-sensitive, or just an anti-social only child?

One of my problems is that I don”t find it natural for me to “hear” so many voices during one day, even if I am just hearing those voices in my head as I read.   Some say they “don’t distinguish between real-life and online friends.”  WHAT?!  How can that be possible?!  How do I know who is my “friend” here?  What is the criteria?

Here are three questions that I asked myself last night, and it really drove me batty.

Which ten bloggers are most supportive of my blog and my writing?

I love and appreciate these inspirational people.

If I were only allowed to read ten bloggers on a deserted island, who would they be?

I love and appreciate these amazing talents.

Which ten bloggers do I think are wonderful people and would be ideal friends in real life?

I love and appreciate these terrific  people.

Now, here is the big question — Do any of these lists match up?    Of course not!

And if they don’t, does that make me an asshole?

And if they do, does that make me an even bigger asshole?

No comments necessary.  I’ll let yourself go crazy instead of me.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2025 Citizen of the Month

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑

Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial