Okay. A day without plastics. I can definitely do this. It’ll be easy. I’m choosing to do my challenge tomorrow, the day before I leave for Thanksgiving break. I’ve taken inventory of my room, and all the things within that I can’t use tomorrow.
All right, so no lotion. No makeup or jewelry, because it’s all held in that little white container. No cotton pads (the bag), contact solution, contacts, no packing lunch in Tupperware, no deodorant, no medication, no dishwashing, no reading a book with a shiny BPA-coated cover. Okay, that’s do-able, I guess. But then I looked in my closet.
Okay, no coat. Fine. The weather shouldn’t be too bad tomorrow. And just below my coat is my shower caddy, in which my shampoo, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste are held. So I guess hygiene is out the window tomorrow. Good thing I don’t have class.
I took one more sweep of my room. I should be able to make it. Oh.
I live in the dorms. If I can’t use my plastic Wiscard, which is my key, I can’t enter or leave the building. Okay. This should be interesting.
The Day
This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed, and put on my glasses. As soon as I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, I realized I had already failed at the plastics challenge, just seconds into my day. I had considered taking off my glasses and attempting the day without, but I truly can't see two feet without some kind of corrective eye wear. So I figured, eh, whatever, I'll just do this one thing. I walked over to the closet, and picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste. I immediately remembered today was to be the day without hygiene, and unwilling, put them down. I compromised with myself for some gum. I was really proud of myself for having bought the kind of gum that comes in a little cup of 60, which cuts down on trash. But of course, the little plastic cup was the enemy, and I had to put it down. I then decided to compromise for some water, which, you know it, was in my Nalgene. Vexed, I went into the hall and took a long drink from the water fountain. It took a while, but I finished my first task of the day. But of course, it's incredibly likely that the water I just drank had travelled to me by way of PVC, plastic, piping. Sigh. I headed back in, and sat down on the bed. I then remembered what Professor Langston had said about the plastic in the lining of a fitted sheet. So three times now, within five minutes of waking up, I had failed the challenge. I was hungry, so I headed to the fridge. The plastic fridge. I settled for a bagel I kept on top of the fridge. Which was in a plastic bag. Oh well, I couldn't have used my plastic toaster anyway, nor the peanut butter held in the plastic jar, anyway. I sat down again. I wanted to go get breakfast at the dining hall. But not only would I not be able to get back into the building without my Wiscard, but I wouldn't be able to buy my food, either. And even if I could somehow get to Frank's, all the food is held in plastic bins and use plastic serving utensils. Increasingly frustrated, I got back in bed. I couldn't use the computer; that thing is loaded with plastic. I couldn't read the book I was currently working through; the sleeve was shiny and crisp, a telltale sign of BPA coating. I couldn't call my friends on my plastic phone, nor could I listen to music on my plastic iPod. So I did the only thing I could do. I got up, picked up my toothbrush, and brushed my teeth. I then came back to my room, put on my contacts and deodorant, pulled on my jacket, grabbed my Wiscard, and headed out the door.
Later
I'm pretty disappointed in myself for this day. I couldn't make it past the first few waking minutes of my day. Actually, I failed the challenge in my sleep. And I was of course on top of plastic bed liner, which is necessary if one is going to sleep on those grimy dorm beds. Even if I had made it past the preparatory moments of my morning, how would I have eaten? How would I have done any homework? How would I have gone to the bathroom, where the stalls and curtains are plastic?
I couldn't have. I couldn't have biked anywhere, I couldn't have turned on the lights once it got dark, I couldn't have done anything that day but sit on the floor in the dark. We have actually created a world wherein one cannot exist fruitfully without plastic. Why would we bring this upon ourselves? Eras upon eras of society have existed previous to ours, all of which were entirely plastic-free. Civilization did not shrivel without little baggies for their bagels and newspapers, nor should productivity stop at the loss of travel-sized bottles and shiny magazines. But it would. My world literally came to a halt without plastics. I'm actually mildly disgusted with myself-- why didn't I see this coming? Why did I let myself become so dependent on somethng so banal? I recently saw a documentary wherein a crew of documentary film makers sailed seven full days into the center of the Atlantic ocean. They dipped a sample cup into the water, and found billions of pieces of dissolved plastic swirling in the sample. This is irreversible. What will it take to stop our dependence before we can't ignore it anymore?
No comments:
Post a Comment