Still Waking Up

I had a thought as I woke up this morning. Where does plastic come from? Oil. How much oil do we have left? Nobody knows for sure, but we should start running dangerously low in about 20 or 30 years.

So then where do we get more plastic?

What will we make bags out of? Or credit cards? Or polyester?

I’m sure Dupont and others are rapidly coming up with new materials that are not based on oil byproducts. So by the time I’m fifty, I’ll have clothing made from corn stalk fibres, and a CD collection made from sand.

Another option: Mining companies head for the dump. I’m serious. A hundred years from now, we will have thrown out a large chunk of the world’s non-renewable resources. There will be literal gold-mines in dumps all over the world. There will be more metal and plastic and other rare jewels found in dumps than can be found in traditional mineral deposits.

Of course, I’m probably not the first person to come up with these ideas. Al Gore has probably already delivered a speech or two about the end of plastic. Or maybe it’s not an issue – maybe it’s already been taken care of, and the plastic companies are just waiting for the oil to run out before bringing on their new line of materials.

I don’t know, but I’m starting to feel a twinge of worry.

Sometimes I wake up from a bad dream and I feel a little victimized. When I do have bad dreams, somebody in the dream is usually screwing me over in some way. (Usually not just screwing me, which is terribly unfortunate – I need more screwing dreams.) So then I wake up, and I feel angry, and then I have to ask myself, who am I really angry at? The person in my dream doesn’t even exist. It was all in my head. My own brain victimized me.

Next question then: Why would I victimize my self?

At that point, I remind myself that it was all made up, none of that actually happened, and I can either imagine the dream working out differently, with me on top, or I can just forget about it and go back to sleep.

Then in the morning, I wake up and go about the conscious part of my day. And this part of my day is often filled with little inconveniences and cut-offs and challenges that I don’t enjoy.

Then I’ll pick up a book about accountability and personal growth, and it says things like, “We all create our own circumstances from our consciousness. If we have positive thoughts, we will create positive circumstances. If we focus on the negative, then negative events will be manifested in our lives.” (That’s not an actual quote, just a paraphrase of different books.)

Next question then: Why would I victimize my Self? Why would my own brain screw me over?

I don’t know. Maybe because life is just a big game we’re playing, and it’s more fun to play it on the “difficult” setting rather than the “easy” setting? Because when circumstances or other people cause problems for us, we have excuses for not succeeding? Maybe so I don’t have to try harder?

Last night I had a dream that there was pizza left over in the conference room after someone’s lunch n learn. (This will be the high point of my day.) Unfortunately, I have had dairy issues since my mid-20s, and if I eat pizza, I face dire consequences. (That part isn’t just a dream – I really do have dairy issues.) So, in the dream, I was desperate enough to have pizza that I peeled off the cheese and ate what was left. It was mostly crust. It was pretty bland.

Then I woke up. And as I laid there, thinking, “Ahhh, piiiiizzzaaaaaaaa… I miss you so much…” I suddenly realized, it was just a dream! I could have eaten the whole pizza and never suffered!

Ghhaaaaaaaa!!!

Sometimes courtesy can be annoying. One thing that bothers me is when people hold the door for me. I’m not talking about when we’re both going in at the same time – that’s fine. I’m talking about when I’m still twenty paces away, we don’t know each other, and there’s no connection between us other than the fact that we both plan to use the same door in the same five-minute time span.

It works like this: Buddy going in ahead of me sees me coming, and probably thinks it would be rude NOT to hold the door for me. So he stands there holding it while I amble along. Except now the onus is on ME to be polite and hurry up so that Buddy doesn’t have to stand there forever holding it. It’s like I suddenly have a gun to my head, and someone is shouting inside my brain, “Run, dammit! RUN!!!”

How would you feel if you were holding the door for someone and they took their sweet old time getting there? Perhaps like I feel when I stop my car to let pedestrians cross, and they act like they don’t care if they ever make it all the way across the street before their children grow up and leave home.

When I’m going through a door ahead of someone, I check to see how far behind the other person is. If it looks like they are physically capable of opening a door on their own, and that I’m far enough ahead that the door wouldn’t slam in their face, then I just let it go. If the person is close enough that I just need to give the door an extra shove to leave it open when I’m through, I can do that.

Granted, I have also felt motivated to hold the door for others. I have struggled with this same guilt that forces others to hold a door for me when I don’t want them to. I wonder: What will they think of me if I don’t hold the door? Will they feel rushed if I DO hold the door? But I am learning to release that guilt. Thank God I’m not British, or I might have had to live with that guilt my whole life.

And, my dear reader, how do you feel about all this? Perhaps I’m just being neurotic? Or is this a grave social ill that we must address?

A friend of mine is a regular customer at a local Shell station, where she gets gas, rents movies and buys snacks.

Cynthia didn’t shop there for a little while, for whatever reason, but then she went back. The attendant recognized her and welcomed her back. He said they had missed her while she was gone. Then the other day she went back again, and another attendant said the same thing. He also complimented her on her jacket.

Either the guys at the Shell station all have the hots for Cynthia, or they treat all their regular customers that way. Either way, I know I feel good when I’m recognized and welcomed, and I feel more loyal to those businesses. In fact, I would feel guilty shopping anywhere else.

Every Tuesday, I like to go to KFC. Not just any KFC, but the one at SouthCentre Mall. I drive past another KFC to get there, because the closer location has lousy service. At SouthCentre, the people recognize me, and no matter how tired they are, they always have a smile waiting for me. They are usually entering my order into the register before I even open my mouth. I’m very predictable. And so are they. That’s what I like about our relationship. Great service, fast and dependable. And they appreciate my business.

I always used to go to a barber shop down the street – again, a place where they recognized me and welcomed me back every time. Then I started getting my hair cut really short, and I realized that I could buy clippers and do it easily myself and save the $18 a month.

I miss those Lebanese guys down at the barber shop, though. This month, I’m going to go get a “real” hair cut from the pros.

What about you? Think of some places that you would never go back to, because the service was bad. Now think of the businesses that you are loyal to. How do they treat you there? Would you even pay more to shop at the places where they love you?

“Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name… and they’re always glad you came…”

Last night I watched “The Boondock Saints.” It’s about two Irish Catholic brothers in Boston who decide to clean up the neighbourhood by going around executing all the mafia (and a few other sinners). They feel it is their God-given mission to rise above the apathy and rid the world of the evil-doers (while everyone else sits back and lets it happen). I would only recommend it if you can sit through constant swearing and bloody violence. I certainly found it interesting. It was a good story.

I also read something yesterday, in “Living in the Light” (Shakti Gawain), that said we need to be the change we want to see in the world. As more people follow the example of compassionate people, then more compassion will spread. So Shakti Gawain might disagree with the Brothers McManus.

Fighting violence with violence only seems to breed more violence. (Witness Iraq.) Nelson Mandela used violence for years to fight apartheid in South Africa. Only when he was willing to forgive, and preach compassion, was he able to succeed in making a real change.

On the other hand (for those of us who have three hands), consider the words of a comedian who said, “There’s a whole lot of crazy people out there, and sometimes you just need to thin the herd.” (Sorry, I don’t remember the comedian’s name.)

What do you think? Capital punishment or not? Which is more effective, blowing the heads off terrorists, or practicing compassion towards all?