Friday, January 1, 2016
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Attending College Without a Car
Believe it or not, it is entirely
possible to survive college without owning a car. I did it for one and three
quarters of a semester, and I didn’t even live in town. I lived too far away to
walk or ride a bike, so I carpooled with my dad to and from college. For
half of my first semester, I had one class on Fridays, when my dad didn’t drive
to college. A couple of times, I tried to catch a ride with other commuters
from my town, but eventually I found a friend to steadily carpool with every
Friday. On campus, I walked to my classes, and a couple of times, I walked five
or six blocks down to my credit union and Wal-Mart. It was hard not having a
car because I didn’t have anywhere to store books or class supplies, but this
isn’t much of a problem for students who live on campus or in town, and something
I assume in this set of tips for surviving college without a car.
If you look at it from one point of
view, not owning a car can be beneficial in two ways, and it positively impacts
the earth in another. When most people don’t have a car, they tend to walk, bike,
or board more places. They use their own body power and muscles to travel. In a
nutshell, they get more exercise. In doing this, they can also save money that would
otherwise be used to pay for insurance and gas. Most importantly, going without
a car lessens the individual’s negative impact on the environment around them;
they aren’t burning air-polluting gasoline or contributing to traffic
congestion.
In order to live without a car, you have
to walk everywhere humanly possible. Walk to the post office, walk to the
store, walk to the movies, walk to friends’ houses, and walk to class. It will
seem like a lot of walking, but think of it as dual-purpose exercise. You are accomplishing two purposes with one
act, important for college students with a heavy load of homework and up to six
classes. Sitting around too much doesn’t do anybody much good, and this makes going
without a car a blessing in disguise. Walking can be enjoyable and easy; it
allows you out into the fresh air and sunshine, and most college campuses are designed
with pedestrians in mind, meaning that quite a few people also walk. This can
be a good source of social interaction, so don’t ignore your fellow
pedestrians; greet them with a “good morning”, or just a simple “Hello” and
wave of the hand. If you feel uncomfortable walking alone at certain times, or
just in general, find someone to walk with. They can be a fellow classmate or
one of your friends. Finding a walking companion is a particularly good
strategy at night, when most people feel insecure or unsafe on their own.
When a destination is too far to
walk to get a wheeled vehicle like a bike or skateboard. It is essential that
you enjoy and feel comfortable riding your particular human-powered vehicle;
otherwise you’re better off walking. When I was without a car (and occasionally
nowadays) if I needed to go somewhere fast or far away, more than four or five
blocks, I would ride my long board. A lot of people on my college campus use
longboards and bikes, with the occasional person riding a penny board or a scooter.
I have even seen one kid ride to classes on a unicycle. There are a ton of
human-powered alternatives to cars, what you end up choosing is dictated by
your preferences and comfort zone.
Carpooling is another fantastic
strategy for automotive lacking college students. You can carpool with someone
if you need to go somewhere too far for walking or biking. Carpooling is a good
way to conserve gas, and most people are happy to share the ride. If the ride
is short, there’s no need to offer to pay for gas, but it is courteous to offer
if it’s longer than fifteen minutes, or out of the driver’s way. It’s also nice
to chat with the driver. Don’t get in the car and ignore them for the whole
ride, and definitely don’t text. On long drives, it’s thoughtful to bring snack
food to share. If done right, carpooling can be beneficial to the passenger and
the driver.
As you can see, it isn’t impossible to survive college
without a car. All of the alternatives to driving take more physical effort,
but they save money and provide a chance for exercise. A lot of driving
alternatives also provide an opportunity for conserving resources and reducing
your carbon footprint. In my own experience, it was hard not having a car during
my first semester, I had to walk a lot of places, which made Ephraim seem a lot
bigger than it was. In other ways, being without a car was also easier. I saved
a lot of money on gas, and I didn’t have to pay car insurance or repairs. I
rode with other people to and from college, this gave me the opportunity to get
to know people better and spend time conversing with them. Because of this
experience, I am not too attached to my car, and I understand what places are
possible for me to walk to. While enjoying the benefits and working through the
challenges, I found that surviving without a car in college was entirely
possible.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Match Sticks
The limousines are burning, little sister.
See smoke rise against skyscraper,
Dulling shiny black metal and tinted glass.
Flames rise from underneath
Maws shaped from the Earth's
Once living bones.
Once, these gleaming, fishlike cars
Were alive,
Before they were spat from
Factories, that was not a birth, but a death,
Carved out of soil and mountains,
Cut from the flesh of beasts crowded into
Windowless, grating buildings.
Fire is contagious, little one,
Having ignited my imagination,
I hope that soon
They will collapse into dust.
See smoke rise against skyscraper,
Dulling shiny black metal and tinted glass.
Flames rise from underneath
Maws shaped from the Earth's
Once living bones.
Once, these gleaming, fishlike cars
Were alive,
Before they were spat from
Factories, that was not a birth, but a death,
Carved out of soil and mountains,
Cut from the flesh of beasts crowded into
Windowless, grating buildings.
Fire is contagious, little one,
Having ignited my imagination,
I hope that soon
They will collapse into dust.
In the dark, dust
Everything is pitch black, completely dark.
I am nothing but the dark.
I am scared that this is going to mean nothing more than laying here for endless years, no control over anything, lonely, and in the dark.
I suppose this situation would be suffocating, except I don't need to breathe. I would be cold, except the cold doesn't bother me.
I suppose there's really nothing to be afraid of; I'm completely isolated from the world in a box deep under ground.
No harm can befall me; I'm already dead.
Everything is dark and I am bored.
The funeral service was nice, but my inability to respond to anything was stifling.
My heart ached for my mother and father. I heard my sister crying once, and then again all through my mother's talk at the service. There was nothing I could do to comfort any of them.
I was scared right after the casket had been buried. I haven't been able to see anything since my eyelids were closed, but all sound ceased when my casket was lowered into the vault. I almost felt like I was suffocating until I remembered that I don't breathe anymore.
Now it is dark and quiet and there isn't much to feel.
I can feel the velvet against my bare arms, and the clothing on the rest of my body, but the air in here is still and unmoving. I suppose it's cold down here, but I am not uncomfortable, thank god. Or not. As far as I know, there's no afterlife, so why would there be a god? I haven't met a god, and I don't expect to. I never really did. In life, I didn't believe in a god.
The moment of death meant nothing more than the cessation of pain, and control over my body and senses. I wish I had been cremated, instead of enduring this unending consciousness.
It's dark. I don't know why I keep repeating that.
It's dark.
It's still dark.
It's going to be dark forever. I'm going to be here forever.
I never really thought myself outgoing in life, but my current state of undeath and loneliness is making me reconsider.
I had friends. I had family. I wasn't isolated or shy, but I didn't particularly seek out company.
What I wouldn't do for a conversation with anyone but myself right now...
Dark.
...think I'm losing the use of my mind.... never thought of thinking as a sense, like seeing, smelling, and hearing... nothing to do down here... thought is the only interaction I have with the world. There's nothing to hear, smell, or taste... but there's a little of something to touch. Touch doesn't count when you can't move.
Time has no meaning, nothing to measure it by. No clock hands, no sunsets no sunrises, no light contrasted with dark. No change in my emotional state... Not scared, not bored, not happy or angry or depressed.
...getting used to the dark, different shades of black in black... Used to see patterns under my eyelids when I lived... These are nothing like those patterns... maybe light is required... There is no light here. No light. No light. No light. Only-
Dark
*
Body breaking apart, breaking down- my abdomen collapsing, my joints loosening, my muscles unwinding and pooling, my skin tearing. My body crawling and oozing, my bones exposed through my flesh like the stone skeletons of the mountains, -flash of memory and lucidity, -I used to drive by them every day, windows down, trees, green or orange or bare-branched and gray, whirling, streaking past my own fragile little car.
*
Thought is no longer my only sense of my small world. I can smell the effects of my body decomposing. This is the most unpleasant thing I've experienced since the actual moment of my death.
*
My consciousness fragmenting, spreading out and breaking up.
Breaking down and breaking up... like a tv screen full of black and white fuzz, a cell phone connection going into a tunnel, radio static. At least forever isn't anymore-
Anymore isn't forever.
The dark. The dark isn't forever.
The dark is just now... Now is forever.
The dark... only not dark, not dark, not dark. Static, fuzz; lighter dark and darker dark.
I am...
I, am.
I am... slipping. Sliding, thoughts like walking with a bowl of water, liquid sloshing and spilling over the edge, droplets. Droplets scattering. St-st-stuttering, bre ak ing u p.
I.
I,
I-I-I.
One...
One word, but not one mind. One letter. One me? Me, two letters, still one.
W....
e
We?
We.
We, no I anymore.
Many, so many.
We are many. Live in the dark, of the dark. Still, dark is not forever.
Someday, emerge into the light once again; New Life.
Thinking they can stop time, but they eat the bodies of their ancestors every day, and ancient stardust lives on in them as us, and as Them. We are what they say is primitive, but they are the ones who don't realize; Everything Lives Forever.
I am nothing but the dark.
I am scared that this is going to mean nothing more than laying here for endless years, no control over anything, lonely, and in the dark.
I suppose this situation would be suffocating, except I don't need to breathe. I would be cold, except the cold doesn't bother me.
I suppose there's really nothing to be afraid of; I'm completely isolated from the world in a box deep under ground.
No harm can befall me; I'm already dead.
***
Dark yellow afternoon light fell heavily through thick curtains, softly illuminating a square room filled with people. Some walked slowly past a casket while others stood around in small groups, speaking softly. Other people wept; a girl in her early teens sat in a straight backed chair, slumped over. Her mother's hand smoothed rhythmic circles on the back of her dress. Her mother looked like she too had been crying some time earlier, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and sadness seemed to weigh on her like a lead cloak over her wide shoulders. The girl's own thin, bony shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands.
The father, a burly and powerful looking man, stood by the entrance, shaking hands or hugging the people who entered. He stood straight and tall, but his face looked as though something in his chest was causing him great pain.
As the light softened and faded, the casket was solemnly carried outside to a waiting car. A procession of cars wound through narrow streets to a small cemetery presided over by great, lush trees in the full colors of Autumn. The cars began to line the narrow roads running like a grid across the lawn dotted with trees, headstones, and concrete benches. Next to a deep, long hole in the ground stood a temporary canvas gazebo shading a thicket of folding chairs. People got out of their cars and gathered together in clumps and pairs. Children raced across the thick grass, laughing and playing, enjoying themselves despite their surroundings and circumstances.
A few of the children plucked brightly colored plastic flowers and toys from the bases and sides of headstones, delighted with their findings until their parents ordered them to return their newfound treasures to where they belonged.
The family of three, heavy shouldered mother, straight backed father, and weeping daughter made their way to the chairs and sat down.
***
Dark yellow afternoon light fell heavily through thick curtains, softly illuminating a square room filled with people. Some walked slowly past a casket while others stood around in small groups, speaking softly. Other people wept; a girl in her early teens sat in a straight backed chair, slumped over. Her mother's hand smoothed rhythmic circles on the back of her dress. Her mother looked like she too had been crying some time earlier, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and sadness seemed to weigh on her like a lead cloak over her wide shoulders. The girl's own thin, bony shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands.
The father, a burly and powerful looking man, stood by the entrance, shaking hands or hugging the people who entered. He stood straight and tall, but his face looked as though something in his chest was causing him great pain.
As the light softened and faded, the casket was solemnly carried outside to a waiting car. A procession of cars wound through narrow streets to a small cemetery presided over by great, lush trees in the full colors of Autumn. The cars began to line the narrow roads running like a grid across the lawn dotted with trees, headstones, and concrete benches. Next to a deep, long hole in the ground stood a temporary canvas gazebo shading a thicket of folding chairs. People got out of their cars and gathered together in clumps and pairs. Children raced across the thick grass, laughing and playing, enjoying themselves despite their surroundings and circumstances.
A few of the children plucked brightly colored plastic flowers and toys from the bases and sides of headstones, delighted with their findings until their parents ordered them to return their newfound treasures to where they belonged.
The family of three, heavy shouldered mother, straight backed father, and weeping daughter made their way to the chairs and sat down.
***
Everything is dark and I am bored.
The funeral service was nice, but my inability to respond to anything was stifling.
My heart ached for my mother and father. I heard my sister crying once, and then again all through my mother's talk at the service. There was nothing I could do to comfort any of them.
I was scared right after the casket had been buried. I haven't been able to see anything since my eyelids were closed, but all sound ceased when my casket was lowered into the vault. I almost felt like I was suffocating until I remembered that I don't breathe anymore.
Now it is dark and quiet and there isn't much to feel.
I can feel the velvet against my bare arms, and the clothing on the rest of my body, but the air in here is still and unmoving. I suppose it's cold down here, but I am not uncomfortable, thank god. Or not. As far as I know, there's no afterlife, so why would there be a god? I haven't met a god, and I don't expect to. I never really did. In life, I didn't believe in a god.
The moment of death meant nothing more than the cessation of pain, and control over my body and senses. I wish I had been cremated, instead of enduring this unending consciousness.
It's dark. I don't know why I keep repeating that.
It's dark.
It's still dark.
It's going to be dark forever. I'm going to be here forever.
I never really thought myself outgoing in life, but my current state of undeath and loneliness is making me reconsider.
I had friends. I had family. I wasn't isolated or shy, but I didn't particularly seek out company.
What I wouldn't do for a conversation with anyone but myself right now...
Dark.
...think I'm losing the use of my mind.... never thought of thinking as a sense, like seeing, smelling, and hearing... nothing to do down here... thought is the only interaction I have with the world. There's nothing to hear, smell, or taste... but there's a little of something to touch. Touch doesn't count when you can't move.
Time has no meaning, nothing to measure it by. No clock hands, no sunsets no sunrises, no light contrasted with dark. No change in my emotional state... Not scared, not bored, not happy or angry or depressed.
...getting used to the dark, different shades of black in black... Used to see patterns under my eyelids when I lived... These are nothing like those patterns... maybe light is required... There is no light here. No light. No light. No light. Only-
Dark
*
Body breaking apart, breaking down- my abdomen collapsing, my joints loosening, my muscles unwinding and pooling, my skin tearing. My body crawling and oozing, my bones exposed through my flesh like the stone skeletons of the mountains, -flash of memory and lucidity, -I used to drive by them every day, windows down, trees, green or orange or bare-branched and gray, whirling, streaking past my own fragile little car.
*
Thought is no longer my only sense of my small world. I can smell the effects of my body decomposing. This is the most unpleasant thing I've experienced since the actual moment of my death.
*
My consciousness fragmenting, spreading out and breaking up.
Breaking down and breaking up... like a tv screen full of black and white fuzz, a cell phone connection going into a tunnel, radio static. At least forever isn't anymore-
Anymore isn't forever.
The dark. The dark isn't forever.
The dark is just now... Now is forever.
The dark... only not dark, not dark, not dark. Static, fuzz; lighter dark and darker dark.
I am...
I, am.
I am... slipping. Sliding, thoughts like walking with a bowl of water, liquid sloshing and spilling over the edge, droplets. Droplets scattering. St-st-stuttering, bre ak ing u p.
I.
I,
I-I-I.
One...
One word, but not one mind. One letter. One me? Me, two letters, still one.
W....
e
We?
We.
We, no I anymore.
Many, so many.
We are many. Live in the dark, of the dark. Still, dark is not forever.
Someday, emerge into the light once again; New Life.
Thinking they can stop time, but they eat the bodies of their ancestors every day, and ancient stardust lives on in them as us, and as Them. We are what they say is primitive, but they are the ones who don't realize; Everything Lives Forever.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Blackberry Kisses (Walk Two Moons)
Blackberry kisses
cannot be understood, fully,
until you take one with your own lips,
camel, giraffe, horse-like,
from a bowl, deep blue,
empty save for one other berry;
and bit down
into the fully ripe,
starburst purple
of awe and universe in a
single, perfect blackberry.
cannot be understood, fully,
until you take one with your own lips,
camel, giraffe, horse-like,
from a bowl, deep blue,
empty save for one other berry;
and bit down
into the fully ripe,
starburst purple
of awe and universe in a
single, perfect blackberry.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Awake, under the sky
There's a thunderstorm outside my window.
We watched it from our back porch,
lightning turning night to day in the bed-sheet clouds.
Rain caught up to us over our end of the valley,
wind whipping the trees in an energetic dance
of thrashing, coin-like leaves.
I am inside, almost ready to sleep, noises creaking
and shutting and humming all around as my family
readies for comfortable, dry sleep
under the sky, awake.
We watched it from our back porch,
lightning turning night to day in the bed-sheet clouds.
Rain caught up to us over our end of the valley,
wind whipping the trees in an energetic dance
of thrashing, coin-like leaves.
I am inside, almost ready to sleep, noises creaking
and shutting and humming all around as my family
readies for comfortable, dry sleep
under the sky, awake.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
An Insult or a Fact?: Hypocritical
To call a person hypocrite doesn't seem like much of an insult to me.
To be human is to be hypocritical, contradictory by definition. We are constantly growing and changing, and our emotions and outlooks evolve by the moment. When we are angry we think differently from when we're happy. Things that sound great when we're well-rested and well fed sound terrible when we're sleep-deprived and hungry. We say things we mean whole-heartedly when we're depressed and frustrated, but we take them back aghast and ashamed when we've emerged from the tunnel of bad feelings. We are completely vulnerable to so many things that direct, manipulate and persuade us in myriad ways.
Being so changeable isn't necessarily bad, nor does it mean that what we changed from was less desirable than what we are now. We -as humans, as creatures of the world, as denizens of nature- just change; constantly.
I am a hypocrite, dear, and in some ways I am not happy about it, but I also don't think it is a terrible as some would have us think. It's part of life; it's part of learning. We think we want or like something, but when we have it we change our minds because it wasn't what we expected, or we find that it doesn't suit us as well as we thought. We think we'll hate something, but when we try it, we find it isn't as bad as we once thought. My mom encouraged me to take a book binding class at our local college one winter. I was terrified. I convinced her to stay with me for a few minutes during the first class, but it turned out to be not as bad as I'd expected; not as big or scary or intimidating as I'd imagined. I learned a lot in that month-long class; a lot I continue to do, skills that have proved to be very useful to how I live my life. I've created a couple of journals I've since filled up, and many gifts for my friends and family.
The point is, if you're actively learning and growing in your life, you are probably going to do, say, and be some hypocritical things. You may be perfectly sincere and still become "hypocritical" by changing your mind or choosing something new and different for perfectly logical and sound reasons. Even if you are at a standstill as a human being, you're going to be hypocritical. It's okay. Be conscious and aware, and don't let it define you. We're playing this whole life thing by ear, despite what anyone might tell you.
To be human is to be hypocritical, contradictory by definition. We are constantly growing and changing, and our emotions and outlooks evolve by the moment. When we are angry we think differently from when we're happy. Things that sound great when we're well-rested and well fed sound terrible when we're sleep-deprived and hungry. We say things we mean whole-heartedly when we're depressed and frustrated, but we take them back aghast and ashamed when we've emerged from the tunnel of bad feelings. We are completely vulnerable to so many things that direct, manipulate and persuade us in myriad ways.
Being so changeable isn't necessarily bad, nor does it mean that what we changed from was less desirable than what we are now. We -as humans, as creatures of the world, as denizens of nature- just change; constantly.
I am a hypocrite, dear, and in some ways I am not happy about it, but I also don't think it is a terrible as some would have us think. It's part of life; it's part of learning. We think we want or like something, but when we have it we change our minds because it wasn't what we expected, or we find that it doesn't suit us as well as we thought. We think we'll hate something, but when we try it, we find it isn't as bad as we once thought. My mom encouraged me to take a book binding class at our local college one winter. I was terrified. I convinced her to stay with me for a few minutes during the first class, but it turned out to be not as bad as I'd expected; not as big or scary or intimidating as I'd imagined. I learned a lot in that month-long class; a lot I continue to do, skills that have proved to be very useful to how I live my life. I've created a couple of journals I've since filled up, and many gifts for my friends and family.
The point is, if you're actively learning and growing in your life, you are probably going to do, say, and be some hypocritical things. You may be perfectly sincere and still become "hypocritical" by changing your mind or choosing something new and different for perfectly logical and sound reasons. Even if you are at a standstill as a human being, you're going to be hypocritical. It's okay. Be conscious and aware, and don't let it define you. We're playing this whole life thing by ear, despite what anyone might tell you.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
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