May 13, 2005

Me, myself, and me again.

I wish Star Wars--all the films, the cheesy novels, its pathetic rabid fans, the stupid characters, the tacky merchandise, the irksome music, the obnoxious media hype surrounding it--could somehow be compounded entirely into a blueberry muffin, which I would crush with a 20 pound sledgehammer then stomp on repeatedly until it assumes the appearance of an unidentifiable puddle of sludge. I adore effigies when they effectively represent something I dread. Even focusing your rage and frustration onto a tennis ball; imagining that it represents everything that's getting your goat, is a wonderful method for releasing some of this unpleasant emotion. It takes a considerable amount of mental discipline, however, to throw or strike the right thing when something must be thrown ... or struck. Punching bags and weight bags are ideal, but really... there is no way I could have one in my apartment.

It's not that I blow up easily, either. Of course, virtually no one else would even suspect that I flip out now and then, judging purely by how calm, collected, and stoic I -constantly- act around humans. It's very important to suit up and wear this disguise to blend in like a ginger snap in a leaf pile if I hope to get the day having garnered the least amount of attention possible. Even still, I cannot hope to conceal -all- my quirky behaviours, as there are simply too many of them. At the very least, though, I am never effusive in public. Even if I sometimes feel like breaking down in tears or laughing my head off in public, I never do. I would never give anyone the pleasure of witnessing such a scene.

It is great to have someone besides myself whom I can act naturally with. I find that my own company does get rather stale, sometimes, though I usually find myself so odd, random, and unpredictable that I usually end up entertaining myself no matter what. Rarely, very rarely, do I get bored. The more time you spend alone with yourself, the better you know yourself. By now, it's almost an unconscious thing, but ever since I was six or so, I perceived myself as being two different people. I still do. I talk to myself as if two people are conversing. The principle doesn't seem complicated until I attempt to actually analyse it. It has nothing to do with an imaginary friend, but rather . . . I view myself as myself -and- another person. It just comes naturally for me, and I do it without thinking. When I can be heard by human beings, I have these conversations in my mind rather than utilising my vocal cords, as talking to myself around people would attract far too much unwanted attention. In essence, there is me, my realistic perception of myself--who I really act like, what I truly believe I am. Then there's my idealised persona, which is essentially everything I aspire to be in one convenient package. Sound familiar? Really, it hardly seems that unusual now that I think about it. Anyway, we have a lot of talks. When I refer to myself as 'I,' I am really referring to both of us . . . together. I fight, I resolve, I share an incredible wealth of disjointed musings between me.

My spring semester is finally over, since I took my last final on Thursday. It included a painstaking write-up on exactly how I would design a research study, but I mired my way through it. I have traditionally always finished up spring semesters with a whimper, but this time around, I went out with quite a bit left in me. I should have higher marks this semester than I have had in any previous semester. Also, I have been looking around and seeing people graduate left and right. Admittedly, while I am happy for and proud of them, I am not very envious, especially after wandering around the campus yesterday afternoon . . . it was a very pleasant tropical day, and I was content to simply walk around the area for awhile while mentally preparing myself for my final final.


campus shots!


I have nothing planned for today... goodness, what a delightful feeling.
awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome

Slightly redundant? Yeah, I deal with it everyday. Find some synonyms (besides "cool," of course).

**Shrugs** I can't help it, but I have the strangest pet peeves.





Definitely.

May 8, 2005

Who can believe this journal is less than a year old?

Certainly not myself, and I am one of the very few who has closely followed it since its inception. I feel like I have owned this little slice of territory for at least a couple years, perhaps more. Then again, when I think of how much I have progressed as a lupine being since last May, well... it all begins to make sense. My first post was on the 24th of this month, so I would have to consider the 24th of May to be this journal's birthday. And... I actually used Livejournal before this? Frightening thought, very frightening indeed.

The entirety of this Saturday was spent shopping... at Costco for the usual smoking deals on groceries, for Mother's Day gifts, and for literature on the upcoming mainland trip. We shall be visiting the west coast of the mainland from Vancouver all the way down to San Diego, and it should be exciting. My father and I killed a couple hours at Borders today glazing over travel books and selecting a few of the best guidebooks to study up on and take with us. We plan to explore some major cities, namely Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, and San Francisco, and do a fair amount of wilderness hiking and camping. It will be a memorable experience, I'm sure, and... it will take place a mere month from now. We depart on the 9th of June, the same day of my last class in summer school, and we will be away from the tropics for a long time. I am hoping this will not only be an enjoyable trip, but an educational one as well. I do plan on hang gliding at least once, or bungee jumping... I'll settle for one or the other, but not neither.

I also purchased my mother a children's book for her kindergarten class, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a card. I know she will be pleased. And for myself, I picked up the new Nine Inch Nails album. It's obligatory.

And... I have finished all my projects for this semester, and have all week to study for my two final exams on Thursday and prepare for a five minute presentation thereafter. Oh, how much easier things are when I force my zany self not to procrastinate.

Self check-out stands.

Whose idea were they? Why are they becoming an increasingly common sight in major stores? What do they represent?

My father and I were shopping at Home Depot today, and ended up collecting a few items to ring up at the register. Only one 'regular' register was lit up, however, and it was entirely unoccupied. Actually, two female clerks were standing just on the other side, but their backs were turned and they were clearly too busy to serve any customers. After all, an entire section of self-check out stands was waiting nearby, waiting for the customer to take matters into his own hands and serve himself. I wandered over to these brilliant next-generation inventions, and simply marveled for a few moments...

Yes, with this breakthrough new feature, the customer can now be his own cashier! Forget the old-fashioned method of placing your items on a conveyor belt and having an actual human scan your UPC labels for you. You can do it all by yourself, providing you are competent enough to follow the instructions generated by a repetitious computer voice. It's really as simple as waving the bar codes of the items you intend to purchase over a flat glass surface. If you hear a beep, be sure to give yourself a pat on the back. The beep means you were successful. Now, simply repeat for all other items present in your basket, but be sure to place them on the counter to the left so the computer knows when to thank you for your business! Next comes the hard part... selecting your method of payment. If you have trouble deciphering the complicated symbols on the touch screen, you can always ask the clerk at the podium nearby. Certainly, she would not mind taking a break from watching you like a hawk or playing pocket Solitaire. If she's already busy assisting another valued self-check out customer who claims to have had a $50 bill eaten by the machine, though, you had better have bought something soft to sleep on while you're waiting. Alternatively, you could call the manager, who would pop up in the form of a holographic image who would quickly and professionally attempt to resolve your dilemma by encouraging you to press 1 for English, press 2 for Espanol, or press 3 for Francois. If you are able to make a successful payment, however, it's best to scoop up all your items in a hurry--the computer develops an impatient tone if you don't sweep all your purchased goods up off the counter in a matter of seconds. Indeed, there is nothing like the customer doing a cashier's job while the cashier stands by and watches the customer work.

That's what service is becoming like these days. Big outfits like Home Depot and Wal-Mart can certainly profit from placing a fair amount of the workload on the customers rather than hiring more cashiers. If someone can prove to me that self-check out stands were actually created and integrated into these stores for a different reason, one that actually serves to benefit the customers rather than give them the cold shoulder, I would appreciate it. Ordinarily, I prefer doing most things for myself, but when it comes to shopping at a store, I would at least like to experience the common courtesy of having my groceries scanned and bagged for me. As paradigms change, however, this could perhaps become a thing of the past. Perhaps all check out lines will become automated, and human labourers at the register will become a dying breed like men who deliver milk to houses. After all, when fixed capital can do the job more quickly and efficiently, and without requiring a coffee break, why use humans? Someday, "service with a smile" will be little more than a vestigial memory.

This is also evident when requesting a doggy bag or take-home box in a restaurant. I remember when the waitress or waiter would bring the container to the table, place the food the customer requested to be saved in the container, and then seal it up. Now, they do nothing more than give the container to the customer and expect them to do it for themselves... at least where I live. So much for a little extra effort, and so much for a better tip. It is quite saddening that service standards have dropped so substantially over the decades. People in this society generally do not seem to have as much pride in their work as they used to. I suppose multinational corporations can absorb much of the blame for that. Why bother delivering customer satisfaction when you are the king of capitalistic monopolies and could get away with murder?

May 6, 2005

Pig poo pollution panic



>> Chateauguay Valley residents fear massive hog farms will soil rivers, land and air

by KEN HECHTMAN

Holly Dressel, a member of the Haut-St-Laurent Rural Coalition, impatiently brushed aside a request for the top three environmental problems caused by the industrial hog farms planned for the Chateauguay Valley. “Before you list point 1: land degradation, point 2: water pollution, you have to say that point zero is the loss of democracy,” she explains. “Industrial livestock operations (ILOs) can’t exist in a democracy. If you have any say about what you don’t want, the first things you’re probably going to refuse are big lakes of stinking pigshit.”

How ILO hog farms differ from the Old Macdonald variety is in population density - 1,000 or more pigs per barn - and in what the industry delicately calls waste management. A 1,000-pig barn produces five tons of pig manure per day, and collecting and composting it in solid form is expensive. Instead, the manure falls through the barn’s steel grate floor where it’s mixed with 20 times its volume in water and flushed into a large open-air waste lagoon. From there, the part that doesn’t leach into the water table or overflow into rivers is sprayed onto open fields. According to Dressel, most liquid-manure operations can be smelled miles away. “What you’re smelling is ammonia, so if you can smell it, it’s damaging your lungs,” she adds.

Getting by bylaws

Farming communities’ first line of defence against ILOs is passing a solid waste bylaw. It allows traditional farmers to continue raising pigs while preventing factory farmers from polluting the land, air and water with liquid manure. The Quebec government seems to have responded to local solid waste bylaws, critics charge, by stripping rural municipalities of their traditional agricultural zoning powers with the Règlement sur les exploitations agricoles, passed June 12, 2002. Maxime Laplante, the Quebec secretary general of the Union des paysans, the international small farmers’ union, describes the process, and it’s the stuff that gives globalization protesters nightmares. “The decision about how many hogs to allow is made in private,” he says. “There’s no clear way to appeal it, and the agronomist’s final decision is secret. Citizens and their elected representatives don’t even have the right to know where the barns are located once they’re completed.”

A number of municipalities have passed solid waste bylaws anyway, including the Chateauguay Valley towns of Hemmingford and Elgin. According to Elgin town councillor David Drummond, its solid waste bylaw was passed in September 2001. An election in November brought in a mayor and a council majority, himself included, elected on an anti-ILO platform. An anti-ILO referendum held at the same time passed with 73 per cent of the vote. In the spring of 2002, local farmer Mario Vinet applied for a permit to build a 1,200-sow barn. The previous year, spring runoff from the Adirondacks made the Trout River overflow its banks. The land Vinet set aside for spraying liquid manure was under water. “Runoff from that field goes into the Trout River. The Trout flows into the Chateauguay River, which supplies Hemmingford’s drinking water. The Chateauguay flows into the St. Lawrence upstream from Montreal,” says Drummond.

The town council denied the permit, citing the liquid manure ban. Industrial pig farming corporation Les meuneries Cote-Paquette, Vinet’s backer, challenged the bylaw in court. In June 2002, Elgin’s building inspector got his own independent legal opinion and unilaterally granted the construction permit. Work is now complete on the barn and, according to Drummond, “The pigs should be arriving any day now.”

Curious things have been happening on the legal front. The town council could have cancelled the construction permit, but let it stand. The council also stopped defending their bylaw in court, and has announced they have no plans to enforce its bylaw, even though it was written as a nuisance bylaw rather than a zoning one.

“Once the permit was issued, the stakes were raised and the issues weren’t as clear-cut,” explains Drummond. “It looked like a long battle and it didn’t look hopeful. We got elected to do something and there’s no obvious way to do it. You almost feel like you’re in a third-world country. Our environment is trashed so Korea and Japan can have cheap pork.”

Bluster and bluffs

Quebec’s Ministry of Municipal Affairs would prefer that the solid waste bylaws never made it to court. According to Elgin Mayor Noella Daoust, Jacques Boivin, a territory planning coordinator and ministry representative, spoke to her at a zoning meeting in Huntington on Dec. 3. Boivin told her the bylaw was illegal and the hog farmer would be able to sue both the municipality for passing the bylaw and the individual councillors who voted for it. “He said it was in some new regulation. I didn’t believe that was possible. I asked for a copy right away. I’m still waiting for it.”

In fact, no such regulation exists, or has for decades if not centuries, in western democracies. Parliamentary immunity - on the municipal level it’s called statutory authority, but it means the same thing - only allows lawsuits against the municipality as a whole. The individual lawmakers are untouchable for anything they do as legislators. Municipal immunity adds another layer of protection. A city can be sued for the unjust way it applies a law; it cannot be sued simply for passing it.

Currently, the city of Elgin is collecting baseline water quality data. They’ve built a river station and hired a technician to collect samples according to Quebec Environment Ministry standards. The samples are tested each month in Ministry labs but at the city’s expense. “We thought it was more important to get the testing done than to argue about who pays for it,” says Drummond.

Having proper baseline data is important, Dressel says. “After the damage was done in the Beauce, or abroad in the Netherlands or in Georgia and North Carolina, all places where mega-hogfarms have gotten in, industry and government claimed the air or the river or the groundwater was probably that bad all along,” she explains.

Turd tests

Elgin is testing levels of phosphorous, fecal coliform bacteria, plus what the Ministry obliquely calls suspended material. “There are many more things we’d test for if we could afford it,” says Dressel. “They feed the pigs large amounts of antibiotics and hormones and three-quarters of it just cycles right through them. In the finishing barns, they feed the pigs salt to make them put on water-weight just before market - enough can come through to seriously damage the spraying fields. Salinity damage takes longer to recover than almost anything else. We need to do some human health baselines as well - asthma and other lung diseases.”

The Rural Coalition is pursuing a formal complaint to the provincial public health department based on the new Loi de santé publique that make it a provincial responsibility not just to protect people who are already sick, but to prevent threats to public health. This is the first complaint brought by a group rather than an individual to be considered by the province. Coalition members say health officials have expressed alarm both at the amount of hog manure about to be spread in this valley and its vulnerability to flooding. A ruling is expected within the next few weeks.






My, how disgusting, on so many levels. Harvesting existence only to destroy, then having to deal with the scatological repercussions of it all. Tsk, tsk, tsk... humans, I swear. The really nice thing about growing vegetables as opposed to raising animals for food is that vegetables never leave a shit. More proof that this world wouldn't stink nearly as much if everyone was a vegetarian.

After 23 years of living, I am -still- trying to come to terms with how people can bring themselves to eat parts from a creature that once spent most of its life rolling around in its own fecal matter. It's beyond my comprehension, really.

May 5, 2005

paradise

I am in my bedroom at my parent's house as I compose this entry, and the atmosphere is simply unsullied. My father had purchased a banquet table to place in the large empty space in my room before the window, and while it had first appeared intrusive and unbecoming, it is actually very pleasant to sit down and do computer (and other) projects while having a gorgeous view out the window. It's also drizzling and somewhat foggy, pouring intermittently, and a nice crisp mountain breeze is floating in through the slats. It's a very inspiring atmosphere, indeed.



After spending an hour yesterday wandering by foot around my town, my modest little settlement built upon an isolated volcano in the Pacific Ocean, I arrived at the following conclusion: I love living in Hilo, Hawaii. The place is little short of perfect for me. The natural beauty, cultural diversity, general political orientation, and peacefulness of the town are all things I would miss should I choose to leave any time soon. I may choose not to leave in the near future, as it is hard to imagine I could create and maintain such an enjoyable and comfortable livelihood anywhere else. My primary incentive for moving elsewhere is little more than an ambition to see what I might be missing. This summer mainland trip, however, may take care of that for me. I am developing an increasingly strong feeling that I would quickly find myself regretting moving away. It may be interesting to live in such places as Seattle, San Francisco, or the northwestern wilderness eventually, but for now, it is seeming much more sensible to stay here and get at least a couple years work experience in a serious job. That I can get a decent job with my undergraduate degree is simply an assumption, though. There must be something I can do on this island that caters to my interests and expertise. I do know that the amount of money I make does not matter nearly as much to me as my own happiness. Moving away and establishing my own residence in a foreign land would create much more pressure on me to find a high-paying job to support myself in an unfamiliar territory. I believe that if I am going to put myself in such a situation, I should have a very good reason. I don't believe that I do, yet. Also, considering that I am already settled in and feel very secure here, I don't believe I should take the chance of trying to fix something that isn't even broken, despite what my wanderlust is telling me. I should listen more closely to logic in this case.

And for heaven's sake, I live in Hawaii. I have had many people in Phoenix, Arizona ask me why the hell I moved there after living in Hawaii. I could only respond with, "well, I guess I got tired of living on a rock most of my life and wanted to see what it was like living on the mainland. Plus, I have relatives here I can stay with." I could never honestly say I enjoyed the city, as it was too large, noisy, dirty, dry, boring, devoid of culture, and full of thieves and beggars. The surrounding nature, however, I could find pleasure in. I miss many of the places in Arizona I used to go regularly or occasionally. I miss the extreme wildness of some of the places, and the many different flavours of surrealism that can be experienced in desert valleys and on plateaus. But there are many more things about living there that I don't miss. Phoenix is truly an ugly city. Its largest green spaces are private golf courses. Its largest, fanciest buildings are resorts the middle class couldn't afford. Everything is made of drab-looking concrete and the streets are mostly arranged on a grid. So much of it looks the same, and very predictable. Temperatures soar in the summer, and it rarely rains. It's a huge city and still offers very little to do, unless one enjoys shopping at upscale clothing stores or playing golf. I am truly glad I decided to get out of there immediately after finishing community college. As I have mentioned many times before, I do not regret ever going there in the first place; it helped me gain a lot of character during my transgression from childhood to adulthood, and I experienced many fabulous things in Arizona.

Yesterday afternoon, after my lectures had mercifully ended for the semester, I decided to take a little walk down to the farmer's market which operates only on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I wore nothing more than a pair of shorts, my blue-tinted sunglasses, and my iPod out the door, remembering to be quite thankful that I could do such a thing year-round here and be very comfortable. It happened to be one of those sunny days that I treasure, where the verdant surroundings become even more blazing green beneath the sun's rays, and the ocean appears a sharp dark blue as cool, refreshing trade winds sweep across its surface and onto the shore. My music completely drowned out any outside noise as I made the ten minute walk into downtown. I stopped at the bridge for a little while and gazed down at the river, becoming hypnotised by its flowing water for a spell. Even the bridge showed character with its graceful curvilinear features, looking as if it had been constructed in the late 19th or early 20th century. That is to say nothing of downtown, though. It still looks very much like a plantation town from the early 1900's, and this is clearly deliberate. Many of the buildings have been restored in such a fashion that still preserves the old-time look. I cannot help but to feel proud to live in a town whose entirety does not look like ten thousand other American towns; mostly made of concrete and full of fast food joints on every block. The buildings simply attest to the amount of cultural diversity that can be found in Hilo. Here, very few minorities are even considered a minority. Equality, in fact, is much more prevalent. After a simple walk around the block, one will have likely seen people from a dozen different nationalities. This is something I appreciate greatly, for I would much rather live here than a town that is strictly dominated by "white culture." Talk about drab. I actually prefer to classify that as absence of culture.

The town is naturally beautiful, as well. Its largest green space is in the form of a public park not far from the sea. Much of it overlooks a river, and is full of lovely shade trees and intersected by interesting bridges. And contrary to Phoenix, it's all very green. Trees and little patches of green are everywhere because the area experiences at least as many rainy days as sunny days every year. A long line of coconut palm trees line the bay front, separating the football (real football, not American football) fields from the bay front highway. Just a little up the slope can be found a series of waterfalls that are very easy to get to, but where privacy can still be obtained most of the time. The uptown region is slightly less pretty, as that is where Wal-Mart and a series of fast food restaurants reside, but I happen to live on the opposite side of town.

The farmer's market was selling a large quantity of different fruits and vegetables, many I have never heard of in my life. Regardless, here's to healthy eating. Since it was the first time I had ever seriously explored the local farmer's market, I was surprised at how expansive it seemed for being held on such a small lot. All kinds of nice Hawaiiana items were being sold, and I did enough cash to purchase a couple necklaces. Someone also had an impressive collection of knives, and I would have bought a wolf-themed pocketknife had I the money on me. Maybe next time.

I am, in fact, happy with the residence in which I live. It's a tiny apartment cell, but I do not mind, for I find it is very cozy and whenever I feel I need more space, I simply venture outside. It's also relatively quiet, and about as close to downtown as it can get without being considered as past of downtown. The chorus of the coqui frogs against the chirping of the early morning songbirds is breathtaking. Currently, I see no reason to move out of there anytime soon.

I love my Hawaii. I don't care who else runs around here; it is my own personal utopia. Is there anything wrong with considering it all mine, as long as I share?

May 3, 2005



I'd be happy with a gold star. Just a modest gold star. Then, when I am finished with my final essay (which I haven't even started writing yet!), I will be asking for... two gold stars! And maybe, just maybe, some hard liquor.

I would love to write more, but I have to read a 40-page chapter on international trade and investment for the big economics quiz nine hours from now, and my eyelids are already drooping. It never ends, does it. Actually, I believe I will go play Super Mario World 2 and zone out for awhile... I have all night!