in solidarity with the students at Virginia Tech. the terror, shock, anger, heartbreak is your own.
still, you’re not forgotten.
Glass recycling in Bozeman
Effective 1 May, glass recycling will no longer be available in Bozeman. The glaring yellow signs on the “Binnies” proclaim “Glass is Trash”. It may be, but glass is also a material which is almost 100 percent recyclable (and can be recycled profitably).
Recycling glass is important: relative to new materials, making glass from recycled glass uses 40% less energy (pulverized glass, called cullet, melts at a lower temperature), reduces related air pollution by 20% and related water pollution by 50%; carbon emissions associated with transporting glass to be recycled are significantly less than associated with extraction and transportation of new materials. Even if not economically attractive, recycling glass remains an important component of adopting a sustainable lifestyle that will preserve the earth for generations to come.
The Gallatin Valley is beautiful; recycling glass reduces the demand for raw materials which must be quarried from our landscapes–a clear environmental advantage to recovering and recycling glass. Moreover, recycling reduces the amount of glass waste dumped in the landfill. Most importantly, recycling the waste we produce makes us more conscientious of the effect we have on our environment and enables us to contribute towards a greater level of sustainability
At present, the state of Montana has no internal facilities for recycling glass. Lawmakers seemingly have failed to create tax and other incentives for using recycled materials. The current amount of glass being “Binnie”-ed in the Valley should be a clear indicator of tax payers’ demand for glass recycling service. Residents of Gallatin County have demonstrated that glass recycling is important; the municipal government should pay attention.
With mounting recognition of global climate change and the urgent necessity of reducing carbon emissions and consumption, eliminating glass recycling service in Bozeman is the wrong choice for a green Bozeman and a sustainable future.
(A collaborative effort of MSU Green Club)
A purely personal note: a career, a club, an application, an update
Well, let’s see. What’s new?
Oh, I figured out what I’m going to do with my life a few days ago. Yeah, that’s a pretty big deal. I’m pretty excited.
Try this on for size: I will (presumably in the capacity of a consultant) help organizations and companies transition to paperless office systems.
I don’t know why it didn’t hit me sooner. It should be so obvious. I’m studying economics because I like the business process, efficiency and decision making. I’m studying history because, yeah, I like to learn about the past, but also because I want to write and communicate effectively. And then there’s that thing about conservation: reduce being the first and most important of –>reduce, reuse, recycle–>. Then, there was high school, when I was convinced that I.T. would be the career for me–I love technology, but didn’t want to spend my life in a server room.
Does the shoe fit? Absolutely. Analyzing how companies can operate more efficiently and reduce waste by using technology to to streamline and eliminate paperwork? Oh, I’m stoked. It makes so much sense. Analysis, business decisions, communication, technology, conservationism.
Between now and then, I’ll need an undergrad degree, a few years experience, and (presumably) an MBA. I’m registering for classes next semester (econ, stats, history, and HOPEFULLY a film class), and I’m well on my way. I probably should look for an internship this summer. Right-o. Note to self.
So yeah, there’s that. And then, I won the lottery. No, actually, that was an April Fool’s thing. That’d be sweet, though.
Actually, it makes me laugh when people who have never in their life purchased a lottery ticket talk about winning the lottery*. I guess it emphasized the point that your odds of winning are probably about equal, regardless of if you buy lottery tickets, but really now, folks…
(*-that’s totally me, by the way.)
Actually, I need to file my taxes. That would kind of be like winning the lottery, yeah?
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In other news Green Club (or: the club formerly known as Recycling Club (whose name is now the recycling symbol … with a giant phallus…), or, short for: Clean Air / Green Grass Club) is picking up some momentum. Our mud-wrestling tug-o-war plans are rather in flux, but check back for details. Whoo!
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In still other news, I’ve applied to be committee head of ASMSU’s Films/Procrastinator Theatre committee, which I’m super excited about. Like the whole my-career-thing, it should have been OBVIOUS for me to apply. Actually, the brainstorming process was something like “gee, who do I know that I could encourage to apply for the committee head? Oh, yeah… ME!”. Like I said, I’m excited. If selected, I would be responsible for most of the operations of Campus’s discount theatre– hiring staff, helping select films, working with a distributor, working with other committees to present special interest films…
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I saw The Lives of Others last Friday night. Frankly, I couldn’t do justice to the film, other than to say that, had it been an American film, it would have won Best Picture– there’s no doubt in my mind. It’s a “character” movie–slow and intentional, driven by inner states and development of its characters. Set in Socialist (GDR) Germany toward the end of the Cold War, the film, for all of its honesty and humanity, provides a vivid glimpse of life for East Berliners during the latter Soviet period–a significant era of history, previously unaddressed in any film I’ve seen before. If love good films, go see this movie.
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And, that’s about all. In eleven hours, my three-day weekend is about to kick off. Plans are TBD. I don’t celebrate Easter, but, hey, who needs an excuse to celebrate?!
Appalling green grass for a Sunday afternoon
… are going up. Green grass is coming up. Gas prices are going up. Green grass is coming up. Gas prices …
Happy days, oh happy days for clean air and happy feet. Oh, happy day for the environment!
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I’m going get into a fist-fight.
I don’t know who, and I don’t win. (Ha ha. I just wrote win. I meant “when”. Freud would have a field trip…) Frankly, I’m not looking forward to finding out. But, sadly, this is a new life goal…
I think there’s been a little too much Fight-Club-Palahniuk weirdness going on in the back of my head, as of late– or maybe it was that movie I watched the other night, Green Street Hooligans, that said something like When you’ve taken a few punches and you realize you are not made out of glass, you don’t feel alive unless you are pushing yourself as far as you can go.
Not made of glass… I’m actually, just now, beginning to realize this. I’m actually quite resilient. I heal, with time. I guess there’s no reason to intentionally subject myself to pain… but, heck, why not? Maybe I’ll learn something about myself.
I know. It’s not a very good goal. My plan of working my way up to middle-management, my goal of learning to settle for less, to be content with mediocrity, with recognizing my potential and not fulfilling it… THESE seem like good goals, by comparison.
But, alas. Just … watch your back. Punks. =P
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Thirty-two hundred bright orange flags have surrounded Campus’s walks and filled its green space for the last week. Walking on to campus Monday morning, I saw a few flags and assumed that the sprinklers were being serviced. As I kept walking, though– no, this was no sprinkler project. I found myself amid a veritable sea of orange, waving flags. Every four feet, on every side… flags and flags and flags.
Then I saw the billboards:
3,200 American soldiers dead. WHY?
WHY did we invade Iraq?
Were there weapons of mass destruction?
600,000 Iraqis dead. WHY?
A flag was placed for each of the 3,200 American soldiers who have been killed in the war. Or, proportionally, 200 Iraqis per flag. My graduating class, per flag.
Perhaps a half-dozen such billboards were placed around campus: a question on top, with white space inviting comment underneath. Responses varied.
Some: “Bush lies! Greed! Oil! How many lives per gallon?“
Others: “To defend freedom! Patriotism! So you can keep your right to dishonor their deaths in this shameless fashion.“
On one sign, “600,000 Iraqis dead”, Iraqis was replaced with “insurgents”. On another sign, a half-dozen Iraq veterans had signed under “Iraq vets against this sign”.
Apparently, the demonstration had been organized by a small group of students and faculty, calling themselves “Bobcats for Progress”. The event marked the beginning of the fourth year of the war.
I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to get a picture of the multitude of flags, lining the Montana State University Centennial Mall (what we call the strip of pavement that runs across campus), but I applaud the effort of these individuals– I applaud them for being active.
—
And, their protest seems appropriate. Entering the fourth year of the war, Iraq has slipped from the front page to the second page to the pack page of the “B” section. “31 Sunnis killed in market suicide bombing.” “Violence in Baghdad kills 12.” “Civil war threatens in Iraq.”
Even President Bush’s requested appropriation of an ADDITIONAL $93.4 billion to support the war got buried in the “B” section of the Bozeman Chronicle.
As long as I’m on that thought, though, that’s $93.4 billion, on top of the existing $70B already appropriated for the War on Terror this year (FY07), on TOP of the $463B Department of Defense FY07 budget. If Bush gets his way, this will bring America’s total military spending to $626.4 billion for 2007.
Let’s put this in perspective. People like to complain about the exorbitant salaries collected by Hollywood’s biggest movie stars (Tom Cruise, I think, collects some $20m+ per film?). Yeah, that’s a lot of money, but then take a step back and realize that the entire film industry is only an $11.6B industry. Meaning that for every dollar spent by Hollywood, the military will spend $54 this year. This doesn’t seem like much, until you consider that Cruise’s $25m (plus royalties) commission for Minority Report equates to $1,350,000,000.01 in military spending. That’s one-point-three-five billion, plus .01 for emphasis.
Still, $626.4 billion may seem like chump change to some. Alternatively, let’s consider the following FY2007 budgets:
These four departments together add up to less than HALF of our appropriated military spending for FY 2007, and less then one QUARTER of this year’s total military spending.
As a matter of fact, this year the federal government will spend more money on the War in Iraq than on education, environmental protection, Medicare, Medicade and our National Parks combined.
I don’t know about you, but the last time I went out into a national forest, I got a lot more utility from that experience than from the entire $446B spent on the War in Iraq. I’m comparing apples to oranges, you say. Well, fine. But if apples kill people (without so much as a clear reason for it), and oranges make people’s lives better, and they both cost money then, damnit, give me a whole bag of oranges, and you keep your damn apples. I’ll have none of it.
Medly of Home
Ah. Tonight, I burst with pleasure to be an American. Ours is a strong way, a proud way. There’s an attitude–a relaxed, informality–to being an American that, I have good reason to believe, makes life uniquely enjoyable. Enjoyable to walk around this rural-suburban sprawl that I call my neighborhood, my home, in the darkening twilight. To laugh at Chester when I nearly topple, loose my footing on gravel road when he pulls so hard, chasing a rabbit, an imagined bird, an intriguing smell. To watch the stars appear in the infinite sky above– first Orion, his belt, his legs. It darkens, we walk, Chester calms. I look up again, and it’s not just Orion, but Orion and his accompanying host of stars–a jeweled crown. Geese fly above, calling back and forth: a flying–invisible–cacophony overhead. I hear them pass overhead, and stare into the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse–a sudden blackening of a star, perhaps, to mark the winged migration overhead. Glancing toward the horizon’s last and fading light of the night sky: a half-dozen silhouettes of geese in flight appears, a handful of what-must-be the hundreds calling, invisible in the night sky.
We walk on. Chester is calm, now, trotting by my side, or, at leash’s end. A gentle wind blows, carrying with it wafts of barking dogs, of a lone car traveling down the not-too-distant highway. And beneath that, a silence: utter, deep, and still. I realize, suddenly, that there is no place in the world like my home– no other geography of barren, brown plains, migrating geese, silhouetted rocky mountains. No other place that people live in such quiet seclusion, protruding like jutting mushrooms out on the prairie. Live with that calm reassurance that ours is a strong way of life, a big way of life, comfortable and easy.
I’m reminded that so little would be required for ours to be a perfect way of life, too. I think we’re close. Imagine: we with draw from Iraq. We reinvest those billions into socialized health care, day care. We revise our patterns of living to be more sustainable, more generous. Rampant consumption becomes moderate consumption. Families turn off their televisions, and adjourn to the lawn outside, the back porch, the mountains. Conversation becomes less boisterous and more reflective, whispered meditations on self, happiness, contentment.
Mars shines brilliantly in the western sky. Too bright to be a star, too red. Mars aside, the sky is empty– ha! –save for a billion shining stars!
I muse at the beauty of all this, quiet and meditative, on my back porch. My fingers grow still (stiff) with cold, pleasantly so. It’s seemingly incongruous for me to sit with a laptop on lap and enjoy this, but somehow fitting and perfect. Technology should enhance. Enrich. Simplify. Our advancing technology, our endless pace of development need not disturb the beauty of the night.
A jet flies overhead (some thirty minutes ago). I can see the two glowing dots of what must be its engines, the streak across the sky it leaves behind. The sun, sunk below the mountains, somehow shines its light on the streak above, illuminating, making it shine bright in the dark, blue night sky. Picture this: a jet plane as a cosmic, glow-in-the-dark highlighter, it’s trail streaking across the night sky. Somewhere in the cosmos, a breeze blows, and the line looses form, bends, fades– gradually. Gradually.
I’m not bothered that a jet has crossed and disturbed the serenity of the night sky. No. I enjoy its trail and train, highlighted by the setting sun. It floats across the sky, silent.
In the distance, a train, and an increasing chorus of dogs. Their voices echo and boom across the prairies.
And somehow, all is right. This is serenity. This is happiness. This windswept prairie, overlooking Cheyenne. This darkening sky. This unhurried spring evening. I’m home, and the house has nothing to do with it.