I should rename this blog to, "From Just Outside the Peanut Gallery: here are my rants"

I was kind of hesitant to bring up this topic in this blog, mostly because I still haven’t decided where I am going with this blog. I don’t know who reads it or if they care about my personal life tid bits, but I kind of thought that was what blogs are all about. In fact, I love reading blogs about personal life tid bits. I mean, they should incorporate real world stuff, or helpful things that readers will be able to use, but they should also have a personal edge.

Anyway, what I am getting at is I feel like I might be embarking on my quarter life crisis. Which is disheartening, because I aspire to live until I am at least 200 years old, (but I am going to make 200 years look good. Seriously.) So, if I am already hitting my quarter life crisis, that means I am only going to live until the age of 88. That is not long enough.

Ahem, correction: I feel like I might be embarking on my one-eighth life crisis. (Ahh. Much better.) What I mean by this is I am starting to doubt and wonder about everything I have done thus far in life. Am I on the right track? What is the right track? I mean, we are all sort of born into a life track, and then we hit college, and then we begin doubting everything we ever were taught or brought up to believe in, everything we always thought we were so god damn sure about. Which is really just scary, because it's like, well, if I feel this different now than I did when I was 15, what is stopping me from feeling completely different when I am 27 compared to now? Can we ever really believe in what we believe in? (Note to self: strike two with the woe-is-me existentialism.)

For example, I was raised in a conservative family. My parents were always and still are Republicans. So when I went to register to vote down in Florida when I was 18, I registered as a Republican (you can’t register Independent, or else I would have done so.) It just seemed…correct? Politically correct?

Now, every day it seems my political views begin to lean more and more left. I am fiscally conservative (but not exceptionally) and socially liberal (on most issues). But really, when it comes down to it, I don’t want to be either. I think partisan politics is a bunch of bullshit and I hate that we have to put ourselves in a box that isn’t even properly made. I think (some) politicians are corrupt. I want to live on Pandora and be a Navii.

I also have begun to question my religious beliefs as of late. I was raised Catholic, but stopped attending church with my parents in high school around the time when that Catholic Church sex abuse scandal blew up in the media. Now, my parents are still both quite religious, however they still don’t attend church regularly. The last time I attended church was in Brisbane. I will say that it was an eye-opening experience at the time, perhaps even life-changing in ways I can’t really articulate currently. And yet, I still play with the idea that I might actually be an atheist. I might actually believe that when you die, you just die—the world goes on without you in it just like when you weren’t born yet.

This leads to my most salient inner debate: Why should I bother caring about the world so much? Is there a purpose behind my attempts to understand the global food crisis and how we can make our food production more sustainable? Is the world really going to come to an end in my lifetime? Wouldn’t it be more enjoyable to live in ignorance? And especially if I didn’t believe in God or an after-life, why should I care about the planet that will remain after I am gone?

Yeah, these are some real questions. They dig pretty deep or whatever. But the more I learn and the more people I talk to and the more I live, the more the answers to the questions begin not to necessarily matter.

I’m definitely “in flux,” as a friend recently told me. But maybe we’re always in flux. Maybe that’s kind of the point.

Like, OK, here is one last example. I grew up HATING cats. HATING. Once, a cat attacked me and it traumatized me for the rest of my life (so I thought), and on top of this, I'm also pretty darn allergic to them.

Then a couple months ago, my friend/apartment building-mate Charlie decided to get a cat, so I put on a sour face for a few days. Then the little guy, named Tito, started trying to be all cute and cuddly and handsome and then next thing you know he became the first cat I ever loved. Just look at that face:



Once again, this blog post has somehow turned into a non-conclusive rant that ends with a heart-warming picture (yes, I just suggested that Dunkin Donuts cups are heartwarming).

Help me out here. Is it normal to be in this state of flux when you are a 20-something-year-old, getting ready to join society IRL? Or are we supposed to feel all conflicted like this forever--and should we want to?

More green gestures than green pastures in America

Not sure if an editor at The Washington Post screwed this up, or if it was the web team--I'm thinking web, because I just checked and there's no mistake in the print version--anyhow, this guy from Lancaster saw the pull quote and spoke up:

Lancaster Co., Pa.: I object to the statement, 'Green pastures we have in abundance in America.' I write for a farm newspaper. We don't have green pastures in abundance. That's nuts. We lose 2 acres of farm land EVERY MINUTE in the U.S. according to the American Farmland Trust. In six years, we lost an amount of farm land the size of Maryland. If that doesn't freak you out, consider that only 12 percent of the world's surface is farmable. We need all the farm land we can get.

So yes, environmental activism, of course. But I would not frame the debate that you should call your Congress person instead of buying "green" because every thing is fine with our land and pastures.

Mike Tidwell: Sorry. Did I write "pastures"? I meant green "gestures" are what we have in abundance in America. Instead we need green "statutes."

Anyway, I agree. There are very few green pastures left in America, unfortunately.

The day after this Outlook column came out, I had to write a letter to my senators and congressman urging them to take action with regards to Copenhagen. I am registered to vote in Florida, so I wrote to Rep. Vern Buchanan, and Senators Bill Nelson and George Lemieux. As you may have heard, Florida is in the greatest danger with regards to rising sea levels, probably more than any other state. I had never written a letter to Congress or a senator, so at first I was like, "Huh? I don't know how to do that." So, I lucked out when I stumbled on Mike Tidwell's column in the Sunday Post.

I came up with this letter, I'd encourage you to steal it in full (if you are from Florida) or in parts, and replace the names with your senator or representative. Send it in, give them a call, have a voice.

Dear _____,

Tomorrow, President Obama will take a trip to Copenhagen for what will hopefully prove to be a monumental summit on climate change. It is my hope that he will take a strong stance on the issue. But, Americans and citizens of the world need our Senate and Congress to step forward and back up his promises to enact policies that will cut our greenhouse gas emissions.

Here is my question, _____: what are you doing to support changes that will prevent Florida from being engulfed by the ocean?

If sea levels rise just one meter, the entire coast of Florida, from Jacksonville to Horseshoe Beach, will be covered in water. This includes nearly every major city in Florida from Tampa to Miami. Millions of people will be displaced from their homes. Once great cities will literally become cities for the ocean’s creatures. And of course, this effect would not be limited to Florida. The Atlantic and Pacific Oceans would engulf Boston, San Francisco, New York, and hundreds of other cities. And that is just here in the United States.

The good news is of course that we can stop this from happening. If we can stabilize the atmosphere at 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide, we can prevent the glacial melting that would inevitably bring about the end of life as we know it. How do we do this? We use the power of the government, which must take a strong, unwavering, and permanent stance on ending the burning of fossil fuels. Whatever it is that President Obama does or says at Copenhagen, none of it will matter if the Senate/House does not support a carbon-cap bill that mandates a limit of 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere.

Pockets of individuals scattered across the country can do their part to use energy-saving light bulbs or put solar panels on their roof—but no significant change is going to come out of this green movement unless the government is supporting the changes: offering rebates to those that use energy-efficient products like hybrid vehicles, enacting more strict carbon-cap legislation, mandating more energy-efficient measures be taken in buildings and homes, and funding renewable energy research and development.

_____, I am still young, but one day I hope to have a family of my own. Yet the thought of bringing more people into a world that is literally falling apart and into a society that is bringing about its own demise, is terrifying. We know what is happening, we can see the erratic weather patterns, intensifying hurricanes and flooding, and rising sea levels, and we know what needs to be done to prevent further damage.

I urge you, _____, to do your part in ensuring future generations have a stable planet to live in.