“So?” Carmen stood there with her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“No,” I shrugged. “It’s pretty clear you aren’t interested in what I have to say.”
“That’s not what we’re saying,” Ella backpedaled.
Carmen let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering and clasping my clammy hands together behind my back so they wouldn’t see them shake. “I get it. It’s all overwhelming. You need to make choices. I hear you and it’s cool.”
If Carmen and Ella actually thought this childish, crappy intervention idea was going to change my mind about things that were life and death important to me now, they were wrong. If they expected me to sacrifice the entire planet for our friendship, I guess they didn’t value the planet as much as I did. Or value me and my new values. And I guess their friendship didn’t mean as much to me as it once did.
I turned and started walking down the hallway. I was so tempted to look back, but knew that would be a huge mistake. And I’d probably lose what tiny fragment of composure and dignity I was managing to hang on to.
It was confounding and strange. Not to mention profoundly sad. The end of an era. But the farther away I moved, the lighter I actually felt.
e a r t h g i r l
the reason of voice
[ Nov. 16th | 4:44pm ]
[ mood | misunderstood ]
[ music | Bulletproof I wish I was... — Radiohead ]
Now I understand how poor Joan of Arc must have felt. Well, except for the hearing voices part.
Though if you stop to consider this venue, everyone who posts here is a kind of voice. A voice that I Sabine of North Toronto hear, but a lot of other people are incapable of hearing. Or just ignore. :(
Maybe this is just the modern equivalent of hearing voices. And maybe I’m just bracing for battles that will be won. Hope so.
It would suck to sacrifice so much and gain so little.
link read 4 | post
www.earthcare.org
lacklusterlulu 11-16 10:57
Um earthgirlfriend, the way I learned it, little soldier Joanie heard the voice of, well...you know – the BIG GAL. I’m flattered you consider us in that realm but we’re really just like you – small voices in the big wilderness while there still is a wilderness.
earthbound01 11-17 10:36
Not to mention large suckage being burned at the stake. So what if they admit they goofed, yer still toast.
“Check this,” Clare said, dancing around the kitchen with a shiny new turquoise toxic-spewing supermop contraption.
“A regular mop does the same thing,” I snapped. Despite my repeated pleas, improved grades and general fabulousness, my stupid family still behaved like environmental heathens.
“Doesn’t do this,” Clare answered flipping it up and shoving it in my face to show off the dust bunnies, hair clumps and icky food detritus stuck to the disposable diaper-like pad. “Just like the commercials say!”
“Finally, truth in advertising,” Mom said, stepping in and unclipping the grotty pad to replace it with a fresh, crispy clean one.
“I can’t believe this,” I half sighed, half ranted.
“Me either. Clare’s never cleaned anything in her life,” Mom said, kissing her on the forehead. “It’s truly a miracle of modern innovation.”
“No,” I said forcefully. “That you buy into all this supposed timesaving earth-wrecking crap. What’s the use of saving time if we don’t have any left?”
“Look, sweetie, I’m sorry your green enviro thing at school isn’t setting the world on fire, but in case you forgot, I’m the boss around here and I happen to like, no love the supermop. A lot!”
“Is it really asking so much to use environmentally friendly cleaners?”
“Not if you clean the house,” she snapped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a full-time job, two demanding teenage girls and a husband who expect me to do everything around here.”
“That’s not fair. I help out, I empty the dishwasher, I clean my room, I shovel snow, I’m a good daughter,” I said, defending my efforts which somehow didn’t sound as lofty when I listed them off like that.
“Okay, Sabine, I’m trying to be supportive, but I’ve had enough,” Mom sighed. “If it’s not the food I buy, it’s the fridge or antibacterial soap that’s bad. Would you please give it a rest already.”
“Antibacterial soap is bull. It causes more problems and diseases because we need bacteria and it’s stupid to pretend otherwise. It’s been on the news. Ask your husband the dentist. He makes a living from bacteria.”
“And I’m going to pretend that the old sweet cooperative Sabine Olivia Solomon still lives here rather than this new royal pain in the ass,” Mom snapped, marching off with the mop like an army general. “I sure hope you don’t go off on your friends like this.”
Ouch.
Clare shrugged, rolled her eyes and stuck her pocky pink tongue out at me. I went to grab it the way we used to when we were kids, but she sucked it back into her mouth before I could. Then she marched after Mom like a stupid lemming. Hurling themselves off the cliff onto the rocky garbage-strewn shores below. Splat, splat, crunch, splat.
And here I was standing at the top of the mountain looking out over the land and the sea trying to enjoy the view.
Alone.
e a r t h g i r l
[ Nov. 18th | 10:01pm ]
[ mood | dazzled ]
[ music | Snowblink — Oh My Avalanche]
I must direct you to a super cool site. THE RUCKUS SOCIETY!!! It’s an incredible resource for active, engaging, nonviolent protest action — like scaling buildings to hang giant banners (that aren’t selling products!!!) Imagine!
They have something called ACTION CAMP. I mean seriously forget *band camp* or regular sleepaway camp. They teach you to climb things and organize rallies.
Sadly, it’s highly doubtful the units will sign the necessary documentation for me to attend in the near near future. But I’m softening ‘em up. okay trying. And failing that, when the clock strikes — 18! — I’m so there!!! Watch for the earthgirl repelling/rappelling (sp?) from a building near you soon.
link read 4 | post
www.ruckus.org
lorax 11-18 23:58
Too bad the Truffula trees didn’t have future ruckus campers like you. I’d never have had to leave my lovely forest. Darn the needs for Thneeds indeed. wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lorax
Besides the co-op, my relationship with Vray was about the only redeeming thing I had going on. And since my new quest was to be the best me possible, how could that not include being an awesome GF and all that entailed?
So it was with great glee and surprise that I emerged through the funky gloom and saw a mountain to conquer. Well, metaphorically, anyway, since it was actually a fake one at the indoor rock climbing gym.
Hard to believe my striving-to-be-hip mother had first suggested such a rad plan last March break. At the time I hadn’t paid much attention, mainly because Carmen and Ella scoffed when I threw it out there, convincing me to join them for a pointless shopping romp and an all-the-rage gross-out sweaty yoga class instead.
Suddenly, an introductory climbing course seemed like a great way to spend another co-op-less Saturday afternoon now that I had an abundance of friend-free time and a boyfriend to adore and impress.
“The weekend doesn’t work,” Vray said later on the phone when I suggested we take it together.
We spent a lot of time on the phone when we weren’t together, which was sadly too often since he went to Jarvis Collegiate, a cool downtown high school. Plus he only talked on landlines because he found the cell’s “voodoo monitoring, constant upgrades and enforced obsolescence an obscene aspect of our consumer-mad disposable culture.” And he only occasionally wrote emails plus wasn’t into IM-ing. He preferred using
online time for serious research.
I preferred lying in bed with the phone to my ear listening to the purring of his voice to the cold sameness of reading words on a computer screen. Even if my mother called me retro and Clare the mouth-breather accidentally-on-purpose picked up at least once per call.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Just some stuff. Me and Finn and Eric have plans.”
“I don’t think I’ve met Eric,” I said, wondering what these plans might be and why he wouldn’t say.
“He plays bass with O-Zone,” he answered.
“Oh.” I was afraid that if I asked another question, Vray might think I was being a nosy jealous girlfriend (and not the only slightly nosy and not-at-all-jealous girlfriend I actually was).
“Action hero stuff,” he said, like he was reading my mind.
“Can I help?” I felt like I should put my money where my mouth was, as it were. And also partly because I didn’t have anything else to do now that Carmen and Ella were absent from my universe.
“No, it’s cool. You should do the climbing thing.”
“I can climb another time. I’d rather hang with you guys, meet Eric and that.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate to be with him all the time.
“It’s the guys, Sabine. We’ve had it on deck for a while. Just give it a rest, okay?”
“Yeah, anyway I gotta go. I have a ton of work to do organizing cleanup crews, routes and schedules for Be Green Day,” I said, so it seemed like I was the one ending the conversation.
“Right on,” he said. “Hope it’s a blast and sorry about this. We’ll do something fun next weekend, promise.”
“Okay,” I said, hanging up the phone and wondering if he meant it. And hating myself for having doubts.
About him, about us, and about me.
e a r t h g i r l
Go much much further...
[ Nov. 19th | 11:03pm ]
[ mood | righteous ]
[ music I stutter — andy stochansky ]
In light of my sorry social life, I opted to enjoy a socially conscience movie marathon to further immerse myself in the “so called” world of *alternative thinking.*
Thinking that really oughta be more mainstream, if you actually THINK about it.
First off, THE CORPORATION, this stunning and oh-so-smart indictment of consumer culture, brand brainwashing and all things globalization that should be must watch viewing for EVERYONE. My “CONSUMED” sister especially.
Movie two — GO FURTHER, with that Woody guy from those endless unfunny reruns of Cheers. It could have indeed gone way, way further instead of focusing on some goofy junk food junkie sidekick who just wanted to be in a movie. Lame.
Easy for Woody Harrleson to ride around in a hemp powered bus, toking up, doing yoga and have a chef make raw vegan meals, he’s a rich movie star. And he doesn’t live with my MOM! Oh well, I guess if one person is enlightened or awakened from the slumber of the masses, that’s something.
Even if it’s NOT enough.
link read 3 | post
www.thecorporation.com
www.voiceyourself.com
altalake 11-23 18:54
The Corpse was SCARY good. I recommend “An Inconvenient Truth” about “Who Killed The Electric Car” at “The Eleventh Hour” while “Manufacturing Landscapes” after “Darwin’s Nightmare.”
ten_
The volunteer turnout for BGD was a joke. A bad, sad, unfunny joke. Only after the principal, Mrs. Rubin, made participation mandatory for anyone with spares did things happen. And then only barely and with an enthusiasm best described as muted. And since it was actually a warmish sunny day, I couldn’t blame the lack of cooperation on the weather.
Sad and strange. Some schools even have environmental clubs and this kind of thing is completely normal. Guess it’s because those kids live in British Columbia, Washington State or Oregon, and when you’re surrounded by walls of mountains and trees, you see and think about it more.
Carmen and Ella continuing to ignore me in the halls didn’t help. But they topped themselves by sneaking away to Ella’s house to watch TMZ and YouTube instead of helping to clean up the community. I know because Carmen made a point of announcing their intentions loudly enough for me to hear when Mrs. Rubin was conveniently out of earshot.
Needless to say, I wasn’t the most popular girl in the school.
“This is so lame, Solomon,” Corey Crawford complained.
“Shane McCardle isn’t whining,” I snapped back after observing Shane and his homies dragging back stuffed trash bags. What a rockstar.
“Cause he’s high,” Darren Mankowsky said with serious snark.
Even if it were true, that was nobody’s business. My business, however, was getting my fellow students to separate the in-school garbage for recycling (not exactly taxing) and then share a few minutes during lunch to help clean up litter in the ‘hood. Which was ridiculously difficult even when I handed out work gloves that I’d had generously donated by Thompson’s Hardware (after three visits and a lot of begging). Then, in a last-minute burst of inspiration, Mr. T. threw in a white paper jumpsuit for me to wear because it looked like an emergency Hazmat suit and he thought it might get me and my efforts on the news.
Good plan in theory, though it didn’t exactly work getting media attention. And it only got me more snide comments.
I’m not sure what I expected given that garbage-in-the-face on YouTube didn’t wrestle people from their complacent dazes.
I didn’t assume it would be a raging success, but I hardly expected it to be such a fiasco. It’s like they’ll spend twenty bucks to go to some yoga class to bend down like doggies, but no one could be bothered to bend over and pick wrappers off the ground.
Though something oddly happy did happen when scary anorexic Alexis Shaw came up to me afterwards.
“I really admire what you’re doing,” she said, touching me on the arm with her very bony fingers.
“Careful,” I warned, only half joking. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you say that.”
“No, seriously. It takes a lot of balls to stand up to all these morons,” she said. “I think you’re an inspiration. If it weren’t for you and all this stuff I’d have never tapped into the raw food diet. It changed my life.”
“I’m sure you’d have found it without me,” I said, trying to keep my expression as judgment-free as possible. Everyone knew Alexis was totally food obsessed – or not, depending on which perspective you took. And she was still so skinny that you couldn’t see her if she turned sideways.
Then again, if she was actually eating food and digesting it that was probably a good start.
“Still, what you’re trying to do is pretty cool, even if no one else thinks so,” she smiled, melting away into the crowd down the hall.
Maybe I had to learn to be more generous and recognize when people were actually on my side. Or to be more like a duck and not really care what people thought of me, which I was definitely getting more skilled at.
Like my mom liked to say, “You wouldn’t care what people thought about you if you knew how little they did!” Meaning, not often.
e a r t h g i r l
[ Nov. 25th | 10:01am ]
[ mood | dumbfounded ]
[ music | Girls – Eleni Mandell]
Why is it that if something’s not quite right, most people say “it could always be worse.” Why don’t they say, IT COULD ALWAYS BE BETTER instead?
I mean, obviously it could always be worse. We could have to walk around with gas masks on our faces to protect our lungs. Or the whole family could have to bathe with a cold bucket of water, as I’m sure some families do somewhere. Or have no food at all, let alone grocery shelves endlessly stocked with food packed full of toxic preservatives and chemicals.
Doesn’t anybody want the world to be better? Okay anybody in my school and my little universe besides my awesome BF and the few of you fabulous and worthy creatures who read
these thoughts?
What does this say about me? That I’m a lousy judge of character or just unlucky or pathetic? sorry to rant. mopey mood.
Saving the world is exhausting me. :(
link read 8 | post
www.evergreen.ca
Vague-a-bond 11-25 22:22
Don’t ever give up green bean. Complacency is the death of us. Optimism is the way to go. So what if the dweebs in your school don’t get you yet. Optimum word – YET. It’s tough being on the vanguard. I should know. :)
lorax 11-26 03:03
Remember how the Bar-ba-loots played in the shade and ate Truffala Fruits? Stay the way, Queen Sabine, and one day the Bar-ba-loots will frisk about all day again.
onederful 11-26 9:11
Its my name, but its also you!
e a r t h g i r l
[ Nov. 26th | 06:45am ]
Thanx onederful (and everyone else)! Guess that makes us two-derful! Or make that all-derful!
I had to hand it to my sister. When it came to the minutiae of my social and personal life, she was nothing if not astute. If we were taking bets, I’d have pegged Mom to have noticed the glaring absence of C and E in my life. But nope. I guess she was too preoccupied by the launch of this swanky new boutique hotel her PR company was handling. She worked way too hard sometimes – a good and bad thing on the parental interference meter.
So instead, it was nosy Clare who finally broke me down. She barged in on me in the kitchen where I was making the next day’s lunch of organic brown rice with marinated tofu and veggies. It was my new routine now that I was avoiding processed cafeteria food and takeout in general.
“Did you have a fight with Carmella?” she asked, using her nickname for the inseparable girl duo.
“Why do you ask?” I responded as calmly as I could despite the sudden appearance of a glob in the back of my throat.
“First, they’re never here bugging me any more. Second, you don’t even talk about them and third and most obvious, you’ve been wearing all your own crummy clothes and look like crap,” she said flatly as she munched on some carrots I’d just washed and peeled.
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