The Obvious Truth

Upon reading an article about the Great Garbage Patch, a swirling vortex of garbage in the middle of the Pacific, I've become depressed. This plastic soup formed mostly in the last 50 years when plastics became prevalent. We've known about its existence for the past 20 years. It doesn't seem we've been doing a whole lot about it since then. Many scientists agree that the size, consistency, and risk to the living creatures within the vortex prevent clean-up. There are some who disagree and are researching what clean-up will realistically take; but the general consensus: the only thing we can do now is stop it from getting bigger.

So what are we doing in that vein? What major steps are manufacturers, retailers, consumers, and goverments doing? How much longer are we going to continue to just make more and more garbage? When will "disposable" become a curse word? When will we stop making things that will be with us for the next few hundreds or thousands of years?

We do not have the land or water resources to allocate to garbage. We simply have to stop making it. If a product cannot later be reused, recycled, or composted, why is it being made? Why has no one talked about the concept of solid waste elimination? Not reduction--elimination. I concede and understand that such a change could take up to four 4 generations to fully implement (Teldyn will be a great grandad). But why haven't I heard our leaders talking about how to get to that point?

I've heard that 70% of our landfills could be recycled or reused. I don't understand why we aren't doing it. What are we waiting for? Where do we think this crap is going? We know we have no where to put it. We know we're poisoning ourselves, and we keep doing it. I'm at a loss. I'm frustrated and confused. I feel helpless.

Today, on July 20, 2009, 40 years after we first walked on the moon, I wonder how we are dealing with the challenges we now face. Is preserving our planet and life as we know it not enough to inspire us into action? In 1969, scientists collaborated and succeeded in getting us to another world. We were racing towards a bright, new future. Now I fear we're stagnating in swirling garbage. Where is our bright future?

Why Not To Waste Food

Quick note: I'm feeling more like myself than I did when I wrote the "Whatever" post. Thank you to all who asked.

This short (6 min) film is a moving depiction of how the other side lives.

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

Power of Whatever (indifferent case of logorrhea)

Life-long activist's biggest enemy: apathy. Today, I am the embodiment of that enemy. Fruitless, pointless, lifeless. Not gray or dark, but white. Simple lack. Not negative. Not depressed. Not feeling. Do my homework: fruitless. Reject this life completely and start over: Whatever. Live as a farmer: pointless. Devote life to others Mother Teresa-style: moral masturbation. Seclude myself and become a "monkette": too many rules, goals--too much to reject. Spend life on a beach: boring. Life is what I make of it? Eh. Life is what it is. This.

Not sad, angry, or rejected. I'm the indifferent rejector.

No explanation. No desire to find one or accurately articulate. Amorphous and convoluted: preferable. Words' precision would solidify; thus altering, defining, and shattering. Simple nothingness. No harmony. No peace. No violence. No destruction. Indifferent rejection, simultaneous blanket acceptance. I'm entertained by the backwardness. The opposite-ness to who I am most days. Curious. Interesting. This is the "abnormal" phase. To be overcome. To say "wiser" or "more real" elevates this condition and undoes it.

Sitting in the cushy chair of Starbucks watching passersby thinking they have some place to be or that they're enjoying the day. Aimless. Pointless.

I'm restless, energetic, antsy, passive, directionless. A smile. I'm enjoying my antithetical condition. I know my normal, happy, well-adjusted self would be displeased with my current disposition--in a non-judgemental way, of course.

Whatever. Not trying to rebel or deliberately reject--implies purpose, intent. I'm without.

I'm the anti-Nicole. Nothing pleases. Nothing displeases. Personification of "whatever."

I see bright sunshine, and like the pressed button of a laugh track, I produce a canned response, "the sun's nice." Most days I'd mean it. Today, I'm just glad it's not cloudy. The dreariness would have likely corrupted my non-ness into something gloomy. The sun purifies my apathy.

An observer. Disengaged. Uninvolved.

Should try to snap out of it. Don't care. Kind of like it here. New and different... in it's cliched indifference.

Last night I changed the banner on my phone--a message to see every time I flip open my "communicator"--to something that might spark inspiration or motivation: "why not?" Conversely, today the overwhelming question is "why?"

I search the street for something to engage me. Bright red hair... ! I'll dye my hair, pierce a facial feature, get a tattoo. I'm interested. Piqued. A feeling. Should I? The irony of my "cure" being rebellious, superficial alterations amuses me. Do it to be ironic? No one would get my joke. Who cares if they would. Too much effort. Pointless. I'm over it.

... I'll jump in the Aloha Tower Harbor. I'll walk down the street with no pants. Too much attention. Nothing to rebel against. No statements. No point.

I'm wearing a fuzzy gray Muppet-fur poncho around my neck; it's soft. I like it. Oh, I like something. Over it.

I'm spent. I am aware that my vain attempt to describe my thoughts today has somewhat defiled their purity. Oh well. To any (unfortunate) readers who've happened upon this anomalous entry (read: Mom), please be assured that I'm fine and have probably "recovered" by the time you've finished reading this. (Luckily, my moods are also transient.) I thought the sheer uniqueness of this post added diversity to the normally more poignant blog; thus making it worthy of sharing. However, I am fully aware that it likely came across as nonsensical drivel. And I'm ok with that. Remember? I don't care.

Promised Picture

This one doesn't require too much explanation except that it was taken near a dark alleyway in a market. Emerson (Rotary) kindly posed for the picture.

Happy Birthday to me!

Saturday and Sunday we worked at the site where children (boys) who are "in conflict with the law" (CICL) will learn technical skills like carpentry and welding. We're (Rotary) helping to build their facilities. The work sites are segregated by sex, for the most part with the men working with the cement and cinder blocks and the women doing sealing, sanding, and painting in a different building. I painted an outside railing yesterday, so I had to bend all the way over the railing to get the back of it; and then squatted all the way down to get the bottom--basically turned my body into a physical therapist's dream. Ha ha! Get it? Yeah, moving on.


They feed us five times a day because it's still the Philippines. I'm doing surprisingly well not filling myself up at every meal, though. Not sure it matters when there's so many, but I'm happy for my self-control, nonetheless.


This morning (Monday), everyone was wishing me Happy Birthday. Yay 28! Today, the women of the Rotary trip forewent the body strain that is the construction site and went to the Consuelo Home to work with (my) girls instead. I was sort of in charge of the group. It was somewhat difficult since I didn't really have time to plan anything nor did I have a phone to communicate with the people at the shelter or the transportation to and from, but I managed. We were there for almost six hours (two meals), and played games, danced, laughed, and sang the whole time. There were 8 of us Rotary ladies, ranging in ages from 28 to 76; I was the only one under 40. There were 12 Consuelo girls and ranged in age from 9 to 18--I only knew two of them. My favorite Nanette (whom I got to see on Saturday) was graduating from elementary school today, so she wasn't there.


For dinner, I invited my friends to come to CFS. They came late, which worked out well because I got to sit with Rotary people during dinner and my friends during dessert. They sang to me, gave me my own mini chocolate cake (which I shared with my friends) and a strawberry shortcake for everyone else. Both were delicious. There was, unfortunately, no videoke, but there were candles! I hung out with my friends for a while, but the looming 6am wake up call meant I was in bed by 10:30pm.

I understand that for many of you, it's still my birthday over there. How fun for you! Hope you enjoy it. I did.

Sensing the Philippines

Yesterday, the plane landed in Manila, and as soon as I stepped off the plane onto the gangway, I felt the Philippines. First were the temperature and the humidity; not too different from Honolulu or Guam (my layover) but still warmer and wetter than both, even though it was now night. Next, was the Filipino time, which is even slower than Hawaii time. Adjusting to it was like booting up a mental patience program to convert my speed (and efficiency) expectations--it didn't take long, but it wasn't immediate. And I think my legs always run on New York time, especially after having been cramped on a plane. Quick quick stop. Quick quick quick stop. My mode became "hurry up and wait."

Stepping outside the airport I was met with the smell of the Philippines; it's not sweet or pungent, just familiar; and therefore, good. Waiting for my ride (patience program start-up at 95%), I see the bustling busyness, characteristic of the developing Asian world. I wasn't standing, taking it in long before I was met by the huge, welcoming smiles of the drivers from Consuelo Foundation, treating me like a returning family member, there to "fetch" me and bring me to the Honolulu Rotary's hotel. Next file start-up for mental adjustment: be ok with being fussed over. (Clarification: I am traveling with Honolulu Rotary, and we're volunteering for Child and Family Service; both organizations share key personnel with Consuelo Foundation and all work closely together. Therefore, we get extra special treatment whether we're in Manila or Baguio. As Patti Lyons' assistant, I probably get even more.)

The drive to the hotel was filled with car horns and familiar sights: Jollibee (a Filipino fast food chain), signs for videoke (karaoke, a Filipino favorite--we have this in common), jeepneys (long, silver 15-passenger jeeps for public transportation), and the legacy of the American military presence: Filipino fashion--t-shirts (often with random phrases like "Nebraska Tennis") and jeans or shorts.

At the hotel, more fussing, and I checked into my room, which I was sharing with Robyn, the trip's videographer. We fell asleep to another of the US's great legacies: television--specifically, NBC's "Chuck" and "Knight Rider." MTV here has the song's lyrics scrolling on the bottom of the screen--brilliant! Gotta be able to sing along, right? This country gets me.

I've come to love the intial disorientation that comes with waking up in a very different place. The longer it takes me to figure out where I am, the more different and exciting of a place I'm likely in. It feels good to be traveling again. There's a familiar feeling to having my surroundings be somewhat... well, unfamiliar. It's a feeling of newness, adventure, and slight discomfort, which I find... yes, comforting. While I really enjoy those feelings, I don't crave them like I used to. I have, so far, not re-caught the travel bug. I imagine that spending so much time in places that feel more like home, this won't be the trip to re-ignite that passion in me.

I love being back here. It's hard to stop smiling, which is fun because Filipinos are great at returning the gesture as I was reminded while gazing out the window during the 10-hour bus trip up to Baguio.

Tomorrow we'll all be treated to a presentation from the girls of the Consuelo Home--my girls. I can't wait to see them. Danny (CEO of Child and Family Service, my old supervisor, and VP of Consuelo Foundation Philippines) says that about half of the girls are the same from last year. It's hard to be completely happy since ultimately, we want to see them move out of the shelter, but at the same time, I'm thrilled to see them again and hear them call me Ate Nicole (prounounced ah-tay Nee-cohl, and meaning sister Nicole).

Sorry about the lack of pictures. I'll work on that. For now, I'm going to sleep.