Dear Mr. President,
As I read about the half-billion eggs being recalled, and the melting pack ice at the North Pole, I'm getting a familiar feeling of panic. "Globally, 2010 is on track to be the warmest year on record." This line from the New York Times piece on the coming effects of climate change has been echoing in my mind since I read it to my roommate this morning. The article isn't even about preventing these disasters but about preparing for them in order to mitigate their destructive capacity. I guess you could say I'm confused. Don't we want to eat eggs without worrying that they have diseases? Don't we want a world that's safe for us and for the next generation? A world where oil doesn't gush into the Gulf of Mexico because of an accident? It seems like these costs of our lifestyles are far worse than the cost of reforming our currents systems to prevent disasters like this. Are we so afraid of the inconveniences of change that we'd rather go down with the ship than save ourselves?
A friend and I were recently talking about our post-apocalypse survival skills. (Jam-making, at least, we've got covered.) He's as committed as I am to decreasing the destructive impact we have on the world, but he's much more resigned to the idea that we're too far lost to avoid the disastrous end we have coming. I don't entirely disagree; if we can't talk people into spending a little more for their food (and consuming a little less of the products with the most harmful production processes) how can we talk them into making the big and society-wide changes that it is going to take to turn things around? Is it even too late to try? I generally don't like giving in to my fears and accepting that we're doomed, but I'm having a difficult time finding hope in our prospects.
Anticipating these apocalyptic fires and floods and droughts doesn't do much more than raise my blood pressure. However, just as I can't stop injustice by hiding from horrible news of it, I'm sure it doesn't do me any good to ignore the possibilities. Reforming our food system, getting the political will for actual clean energy legislation and a widespread alteration in our priorities when making every day decisions might all still save us- but I've just gotten too cynical to believe we can do it. So I'm going to keep trying to be better about my own negative impact on the climate, especially when it comes to the foods I purchase, but I'm also going to keep brushing up on those skills for the apocalypse. After all, I'll probably need more than jam when the times comes.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label natural disasters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label natural disasters. Show all posts
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Day 214- On crows, or almost certainly something Eric disapproves of
Just for fun:
Dear Mr. President,
Like many Seattlites, I have a special relationship with crows. I'm sure this is not a uniquely Seattle matter, but certainly one that has been explored by local authors and academics. I certainly didn't feel the same way about them when I lived in other cities. My irrational side, which looks for magic, or at least a deeper meaning, in just about everything, believes that crows are good omens, auspicious signs of a good day. This confuses, and deeply annoys Eric, my neighbor and close friend, who has a much firmer grip on his rational self than his silly bird-brained neighbor girl. Since we are hanging out at our neighborhood bar, looking for something to write about for our weekly writer's group meeting tomorrow night, I've decided to use him, and our ongoing argument about crows, as my inspiration for this letter.
Eric has become part of my urban family through two close friends, both of whom have a talent for finding and befriending really great men who challenge my own cynicism and mistrust of the opposite sex. He's my brother now, stuck with me if he likes it or not, even though we lost our closest link to the Peace Corps. He, mostly, finds the things that I do perplexing and absurd. Write the President every day? Ridiculous. Read ingredient lists on food? No fun at all. Imagine the outcome of my day might be portended by the appearance of birds? Downright preposterous. But, for whatever reason, he puts up with me, and I am glad for this. It's good to have people in your life to remind you to have fun. He doesn't really approve of the amount of time I spend, in general, angry or upset about things outside of my control. Some nights I find this attitude disturbing, but tonight, with devastating floods in Pakistan, effective, comprehensive energy legislation looking like a fantasy and less than $20 in my checking account, hanging out on a comfy couch and listening to the bar tender's friends sing really bad karaoke is, while not exactly productive, at least keeping me from locking myself up in my apartment and declaring myself done with life in general.
Outside of my superstitions, crows do tell us a number of things about shrinking natural habitats, and the ways that urban man and wildlife will interact in the future. I generally like the idea of an animal that has adapted to human presence in such a way that they've even mastered traffic lights, enough to use them to their advantage- it comforts me that our sprawling existence, while problematic, might not be the end of the world for every non-domesticated living creature. We've got to do more to protect wildlife, to reduce our destructive impact on the natural world; it's just nice to know that some creatures are tougher than I give them credit for.
I know, today you're talking about troop draw-downs in Iraq, the future of American small businesses, and Virginia's legal challenge to the new health care legislation. You've got bigger concerns than me and my crazy superstitions. And I'm glad you do; I'm 24, I don't have my degree, and I'm not able to Save The World, yet. So I do silly things, like listen to drunk people singing old-school country songs (and Lady GaGa,) and look to the presence of the wild in my utterly urban existence for hope that, even if you or I, or my entire generation, can't save the world, the world might save itself, a little, too.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
Like many Seattlites, I have a special relationship with crows. I'm sure this is not a uniquely Seattle matter, but certainly one that has been explored by local authors and academics. I certainly didn't feel the same way about them when I lived in other cities. My irrational side, which looks for magic, or at least a deeper meaning, in just about everything, believes that crows are good omens, auspicious signs of a good day. This confuses, and deeply annoys Eric, my neighbor and close friend, who has a much firmer grip on his rational self than his silly bird-brained neighbor girl. Since we are hanging out at our neighborhood bar, looking for something to write about for our weekly writer's group meeting tomorrow night, I've decided to use him, and our ongoing argument about crows, as my inspiration for this letter.
Eric has become part of my urban family through two close friends, both of whom have a talent for finding and befriending really great men who challenge my own cynicism and mistrust of the opposite sex. He's my brother now, stuck with me if he likes it or not, even though we lost our closest link to the Peace Corps. He, mostly, finds the things that I do perplexing and absurd. Write the President every day? Ridiculous. Read ingredient lists on food? No fun at all. Imagine the outcome of my day might be portended by the appearance of birds? Downright preposterous. But, for whatever reason, he puts up with me, and I am glad for this. It's good to have people in your life to remind you to have fun. He doesn't really approve of the amount of time I spend, in general, angry or upset about things outside of my control. Some nights I find this attitude disturbing, but tonight, with devastating floods in Pakistan, effective, comprehensive energy legislation looking like a fantasy and less than $20 in my checking account, hanging out on a comfy couch and listening to the bar tender's friends sing really bad karaoke is, while not exactly productive, at least keeping me from locking myself up in my apartment and declaring myself done with life in general.
Outside of my superstitions, crows do tell us a number of things about shrinking natural habitats, and the ways that urban man and wildlife will interact in the future. I generally like the idea of an animal that has adapted to human presence in such a way that they've even mastered traffic lights, enough to use them to their advantage- it comforts me that our sprawling existence, while problematic, might not be the end of the world for every non-domesticated living creature. We've got to do more to protect wildlife, to reduce our destructive impact on the natural world; it's just nice to know that some creatures are tougher than I give them credit for.
I know, today you're talking about troop draw-downs in Iraq, the future of American small businesses, and Virginia's legal challenge to the new health care legislation. You've got bigger concerns than me and my crazy superstitions. And I'm glad you do; I'm 24, I don't have my degree, and I'm not able to Save The World, yet. So I do silly things, like listen to drunk people singing old-school country songs (and Lady GaGa,) and look to the presence of the wild in my utterly urban existence for hope that, even if you or I, or my entire generation, can't save the world, the world might save itself, a little, too.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Day 131
Dear Mr. President,
I applied to go back to school today. After running out of viable alternatives to complete my degree (night school, bank robbery, insurance fraud, etc.) I've finally concluded that I have to face my fear and go back full-time. What is unusual about this situation is that, instead of fearing the unknown, I know exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of the stress, the inevitable choice between being a good employee and being a good student, (or, put another way, of having the means to support myself or the kind of grades I expect,) of the endless bureaucracy of attending a large school, my own deteriorating academic skills and my failure to measure up to classes growing younger as I age. I've been through it, before, and I do not look forward to doing it again, for an entire year. I've put it off for so long, because of the calculated risks, feeling as though I know, already, that I will fail, and so it is not worth trying. But business as usual isn't acceptable; my life is not what I want it to be, my career, my contribution to my community, nothing about my station in life is acceptable and so I have to put aside my habits and self-doubt and even my pride, and I have to do what is difficult.
Lately I feel like your administration has faced a similar struggle. It's as though you can't seem to break out of the same patterns that force you to perpetuate a status quo you know to be unacceptable. Why, for example, is the White House rallying for incumbent Democrats who don't support your legislative agenda? Why do we continue to prop up Hamid Karzai in Afghanistan, or accept defeat when it comes to new energy policy? Our problems are similar, Mr. President, in that we both have the power and will to improve, but somehow find ourselves bogged down in the day-to-day. I understand; it's difficult to get aggressive on your legislative agenda when it's flooding in Tennessee and oil is spilling into the Gulf; when bombs, (or, at least, fair attempts at bombs) are being left in Times Square and Arizona seems ready to replace its law enforcement with a modern-era manifestation of the Glanton gang. But time is slipping away from both of us, and, before you know it, the midterms will be over and it will be time to run again. Your approval rating may be creeping up, but you know that the years will be long gone before you're able to accomplish what you set out to if you wait for the political will to come to you.
Neither of us can afford to waste our time in mediocrity, in half-hearted attempts born of fear. I hope that your administration musters all of its courage and finds new approaches to solving the problems of our day; that you take the difficult paths and fight for your beliefs, without compromising before you even reach the negotiation. You ought to re-evaluate the promises you made to the electorate during your campaign and the progress made so far toward those ends. I worry that four years will pass before you look around and realize you haven't fought hard enough, for fear of failure, or that you've been bogged down with day-by-day crisis management and never got to take on enough of the big picture. A constant reflection on the goals of your administration is essential to the necessary sense of urgency your office requires. Like me, you still have so many people who believe in you, and I know you, too, want that faith to be rewarded.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I applied to go back to school today. After running out of viable alternatives to complete my degree (night school, bank robbery, insurance fraud, etc.) I've finally concluded that I have to face my fear and go back full-time. What is unusual about this situation is that, instead of fearing the unknown, I know exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of the stress, the inevitable choice between being a good employee and being a good student, (or, put another way, of having the means to support myself or the kind of grades I expect,) of the endless bureaucracy of attending a large school, my own deteriorating academic skills and my failure to measure up to classes growing younger as I age. I've been through it, before, and I do not look forward to doing it again, for an entire year. I've put it off for so long, because of the calculated risks, feeling as though I know, already, that I will fail, and so it is not worth trying. But business as usual isn't acceptable; my life is not what I want it to be, my career, my contribution to my community, nothing about my station in life is acceptable and so I have to put aside my habits and self-doubt and even my pride, and I have to do what is difficult.
Lately I feel like your administration has faced a similar struggle. It's as though you can't seem to break out of the same patterns that force you to perpetuate a status quo you know to be unacceptable. Why, for example, is the White House rallying for incumbent Democrats who don't support your legislative agenda? Why do we continue to prop up Hamid Karzai in Afghanistan, or accept defeat when it comes to new energy policy? Our problems are similar, Mr. President, in that we both have the power and will to improve, but somehow find ourselves bogged down in the day-to-day. I understand; it's difficult to get aggressive on your legislative agenda when it's flooding in Tennessee and oil is spilling into the Gulf; when bombs, (or, at least, fair attempts at bombs) are being left in Times Square and Arizona seems ready to replace its law enforcement with a modern-era manifestation of the Glanton gang. But time is slipping away from both of us, and, before you know it, the midterms will be over and it will be time to run again. Your approval rating may be creeping up, but you know that the years will be long gone before you're able to accomplish what you set out to if you wait for the political will to come to you.
Neither of us can afford to waste our time in mediocrity, in half-hearted attempts born of fear. I hope that your administration musters all of its courage and finds new approaches to solving the problems of our day; that you take the difficult paths and fight for your beliefs, without compromising before you even reach the negotiation. You ought to re-evaluate the promises you made to the electorate during your campaign and the progress made so far toward those ends. I worry that four years will pass before you look around and realize you haven't fought hard enough, for fear of failure, or that you've been bogged down with day-by-day crisis management and never got to take on enough of the big picture. A constant reflection on the goals of your administration is essential to the necessary sense of urgency your office requires. Like me, you still have so many people who believe in you, and I know you, too, want that faith to be rewarded.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Day 97- Haiku
This inspired me
for today's letter. Go on,
count the syllables.
A Haiku Letter:
Dear President Obama,
It's a slow news day.
Coup in Kyrgyzstan.
Diplomats smoking on planes.
Flooding in Brazil.
Threats on the Speaker,
economy still struggling,
internal unrest.
Never a slow day,
in the situation room,
it's always morning.
Glenn Beck's Tea Party,
Limbaugh's expatriation,
McCain's heels dug in.
How do you manage?
When do you get time to breathe?
Keep your famous cool?
Between enemies;
both foreign and domestic,
constant apathy,
innate corruption,
systematic inertia,
year-round campaigning;
you must get tired.
Even as we elected
Hope, not energy.
Me, so far removed,
just worrying my way from
paycheck to paycheck,
can't begin to say
what, exactly, is best for
me, or our country.
I write you each day,
to question and to complain
express hope, or faith.
I'm not sure that I
ever say what I try to;
that I still have hope
hope that we can change
hope in more than the campaign,
in our government.
for all the danger,
of our troubled world today
I rest easily.
knowing that you will
answer the 3 a.m. calls
while I am sleeping.
For you, there is no
such thing as a slow news day.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
for today's letter. Go on,
count the syllables.
A Haiku Letter:
Dear President Obama,
It's a slow news day.
Coup in Kyrgyzstan.
Diplomats smoking on planes.
Flooding in Brazil.
Threats on the Speaker,
economy still struggling,
internal unrest.
Never a slow day,
in the situation room,
it's always morning.
Glenn Beck's Tea Party,
Limbaugh's expatriation,
McCain's heels dug in.
How do you manage?
When do you get time to breathe?
Keep your famous cool?
Between enemies;
both foreign and domestic,
constant apathy,
innate corruption,
systematic inertia,
year-round campaigning;
you must get tired.
Even as we elected
Hope, not energy.
Me, so far removed,
just worrying my way from
paycheck to paycheck,
can't begin to say
what, exactly, is best for
me, or our country.
I write you each day,
to question and to complain
express hope, or faith.
I'm not sure that I
ever say what I try to;
that I still have hope
hope that we can change
hope in more than the campaign,
in our government.
for all the danger,
of our troubled world today
I rest easily.
knowing that you will
answer the 3 a.m. calls
while I am sleeping.
For you, there is no
such thing as a slow news day.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Day 58
Dear Mr. President,
I think it is better, even if it is more frightening, to know that the tsunami is coming. To know that the shudder of tectonic plates half a world away is sending danger to your shore. The silent swell of water that does not rumble, like in the movies, but rushes in and out, consuming without motive or malice. I was up late, again, last night, and saw the headlines about an earthquake in Chile. When I woke up it seemed like I might have dreamed the whole thing, but it is too true. One coworker's family is convinced that this is another sign of the end times. Another has family in Hawaii, though mercifully not in the affected areas. We are all just waiting to see what will happen, what can be done to help.
It was reassuring to see you respond so quickly, so assuredly, to remind us that even what we cannot predict, we can respond to. It is humbling, how quickly my own priorities can seem so absurd. For now I will hope that the worst is over, and that the people of Chile are able to rescue and rebuild quickly.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I think it is better, even if it is more frightening, to know that the tsunami is coming. To know that the shudder of tectonic plates half a world away is sending danger to your shore. The silent swell of water that does not rumble, like in the movies, but rushes in and out, consuming without motive or malice. I was up late, again, last night, and saw the headlines about an earthquake in Chile. When I woke up it seemed like I might have dreamed the whole thing, but it is too true. One coworker's family is convinced that this is another sign of the end times. Another has family in Hawaii, though mercifully not in the affected areas. We are all just waiting to see what will happen, what can be done to help.
It was reassuring to see you respond so quickly, so assuredly, to remind us that even what we cannot predict, we can respond to. It is humbling, how quickly my own priorities can seem so absurd. For now I will hope that the worst is over, and that the people of Chile are able to rescue and rebuild quickly.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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