So my New Year's resolution this year was to try to live a more environmentally-friendly life. When I started out, it was pretty overwhelming. But the resolution was meant to be empowering, not debilitating. So it was onward toward that far-away goal of green, one small step at a time.
I shopped at Whole Foods and bought as much organic as I could. I reused bags. My carbon footprint was already pretty small compared to non-city folk, thanks to the MTA. As our light bulbs blew, we replaced them with the eco-friendly ones. Instead of throwing things out, I gave them away on craigslist. And I became pretty vigilant about recycling (G has the scars to prove it).
But there are many grey areas to green. Case in point, tonight I found myself in front of the milk cooler pondering whether to buy the new brand of organic fat free milk or stick with the Stonyfield organic, even though I'd have to buy 2% because that is all they had. So what should be my priority here? My arteries, which probably don't need 2% fat? The price? The cuteness of the cows featured on the packaging? Honestly, I don't know. But here is how I made the decision: I rolled the cartons onto their sides to see where they were from. Fat-free was California-based. Stonyfield is New Hampshire-based. So I picked Stonyfield, since it probably didn't travel as far, and therefore produced less carbon. Cholesterol be damned.
Until next time, green like you mean it!
Showing posts with label MTA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MTA. Show all posts
Monday, November 5, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
This is ridiculous (or NYM wants to wear Underoos, just Underoos, all day)
Well, it finally happened, an event so immensely irritating that I could no longer sit on my duff and continue to *not* blog. So now, thanks to rain+tornado?+heat+the ever-loving MTA, is the first-ever New York Minute blog post. Let's get to the good stuff:
Ah, rain. Not only did you rob me of hours of sleep by tripping some stooge's car alarm right below my window—not once, but twice, at 45 minutes a pop—but, rain, you also saw fit to shut down THE ENTIRE NEW YORK SUBWAY SYSTEM. And for good measure, you took out New Jersey Transit, Metro-North and the LIRR. All hail the mighty rain.
But surely the MTA has had to deal with rain before, no? Oui, my friends. On average, it precipitates 121 days a year in New York City. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a third of the year. Granted, it isn't all rain. But a goodly portion is. So what gives? Apparently the infrastructure of "the world's best transportation system." (Direct quote from MTA website http://www.mta.info/mta/network.htm, which apparently shut down during the critical times when people would have actually needed it to get information today.)
But, truly, I tell you brothers and sister of Gotham and beyond, I am *not* here to kvetch about the MTA (today). I am here to ask, nay, demand to know what became of the Future? You remember the Future, don't you? It is that golden age of telecommunicating telecommuting we were all promised. Why do we even need the MTA? Why must I leave the comfort of my air-conditioned apartment to put in eight hours of hard, grueling labor? Why can't I labor from my living room? Or kitchen? Or, for the risque, bedroom? Where is my teleconference? The one where I wear a suit jacket and blouse with just my Jockey shorts in the southern hemisphere? You know, business up top, party on the bottom. Or better yet, where is my IM-based workgroup, so that I can sit on my couch in my Underoos all day, no one the wiser?
I see how telecommuting won't work for everyone. Certain careers are dependent on location; waiters, doctors and my Starbucks barista lose some meaning if they aren't where I need them. (Closest barista: 981 feet.) But imagine, if you can, a commute without the desk jockeys, such as myself (proud member since 1999). It would be so easy! No sweaty bodies packed into a metal tube like Spam. Just half as many sweaty bodies, with more space to breathe. Trust me, this is a good thing. There is only so much good will to be spent in one day and if you have to sink it all into your morning commute, things don't look so good for the afternoon. Not even with a venti iced green tea.
Until next time, hang tough. Underoos optional.
Ah, rain. Not only did you rob me of hours of sleep by tripping some stooge's car alarm right below my window—not once, but twice, at 45 minutes a pop—but, rain, you also saw fit to shut down THE ENTIRE NEW YORK SUBWAY SYSTEM. And for good measure, you took out New Jersey Transit, Metro-North and the LIRR. All hail the mighty rain.
But surely the MTA has had to deal with rain before, no? Oui, my friends. On average, it precipitates 121 days a year in New York City. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a third of the year. Granted, it isn't all rain. But a goodly portion is. So what gives? Apparently the infrastructure of "the world's best transportation system." (Direct quote from MTA website http://www.mta.info/mta/network.htm, which apparently shut down during the critical times when people would have actually needed it to get information today.)
But, truly, I tell you brothers and sister of Gotham and beyond, I am *not* here to kvetch about the MTA (today). I am here to ask, nay, demand to know what became of the Future? You remember the Future, don't you? It is that golden age of telecommunicating telecommuting we were all promised. Why do we even need the MTA? Why must I leave the comfort of my air-conditioned apartment to put in eight hours of hard, grueling labor? Why can't I labor from my living room? Or kitchen? Or, for the risque, bedroom? Where is my teleconference? The one where I wear a suit jacket and blouse with just my Jockey shorts in the southern hemisphere? You know, business up top, party on the bottom. Or better yet, where is my IM-based workgroup, so that I can sit on my couch in my Underoos all day, no one the wiser?
I see how telecommuting won't work for everyone. Certain careers are dependent on location; waiters, doctors and my Starbucks barista lose some meaning if they aren't where I need them. (Closest barista: 981 feet.) But imagine, if you can, a commute without the desk jockeys, such as myself (proud member since 1999). It would be so easy! No sweaty bodies packed into a metal tube like Spam. Just half as many sweaty bodies, with more space to breathe. Trust me, this is a good thing. There is only so much good will to be spent in one day and if you have to sink it all into your morning commute, things don't look so good for the afternoon. Not even with a venti iced green tea.
Until next time, hang tough. Underoos optional.
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