The Burlap Soulmate

I have kind of a love-hate thing with the price of gas. It's one of those things that everyone complains about yet no one seems to know any of the facts behind it. On the one hand, when you're poor, really poor, the price of fuel has such a dramatic effect on you. It can determine whether or not you go to work that week, whether you have enough to buy groceries after you fill up your car. I've been in that situation before, when I knew the exact amount of money I had to spend per day to get to and from work. It stinks. And you pay very close attention to prices as a result. The extreme variances in price from day to day, or even hour by hour, can make you think you're being gypped. How can instabilities oin the Middle East today affect the price of something that has already been pumped, shipped, refined, and is even now sitting underneath some gas station somewhere ready to go? The economist in me balks at the very notion. I can see the flip side of it too though. The fact that we as a nation consume 2 million barrels a day. That is an unfathomable amount. Every day. And the fact that $2 can buy you a gallon of the stuff. A gallon is a lot of liquid. More than your average milk bottle, detergent bottle, water bottle. And this stuff had to be pumped out of the ground half a world away, brought over here on huge tankers, refined through several different stages and brought to it's final form. Then shipped across the country on big trucks to each individual station where it is then pumped into the ground waiting for you. Even at purchase there is an associated tax along with it. And it only costs $2 a gallon. Nothing else does. Even the stuff that requires 1/10th of the amount of equipment, labor, time, and trouble that gasoline does. The moral of all this? I have no idea. It's hard not to think we're getting gypped. But sometimes you need to take a moment to ponder where stuff really comes from to get a decent perspective. I can appreciate the other side too. And no small part of me looks at current prices and the current crop of assholes tailgating me in their monstrous Hummers and Rams and sits back and has a good laugh at their expense.

Sometimes I wish I had a M-F 8-5 job that I could just show up at, do what needs to be done, and then leave. Like driving a bus, or being a plumber. These types of jobs tend not to follow you home, to occupy your brain through all hours of the day. You tend to not dread these jobs if you liked them in the first place, since you're doing the same thing everyday. My job is not like that nor has it ever been. It is perpetual problem solving, perpetual politics, perpetual worrying about money. It does follow me home and affect my personal life, my relationships, my state of mind. Sometimes I think those with mundane, repetitive jobs have it easy. Then I have another beer out of the fridge, and find a new solution, and play a game of cornhole, and realize that I'm actually pretty lucky...most of the time.

I know it's not a big secret that I'm pretty much an Evil Conservative. But I guess I'm finally coming out of the closet. I voted for Bush...twice. And I'd do it again. I loathe taxes with the very core of my being. Most of the time I find myself on the right side of the aisle. With that being said, I've embraced many of the issues that Staz holds dear, such as animal rights and welfare. We will never agree on abortion, but I'm okay with that. I like that she keeps me on my toes, makes me justify where I stand and why. There is one cause that I pursue passionately, or as passionately as I could pursue a cause. Recycling. I know I know. No shit Sherlock, who isn't for recycling? But I'm almost neurotic about it. Staz knows this from experience. I positively cannot throw out a can, ora bottle, or a paper without getting a nice big mental image of it ending up in a landfill surrounded by acres of junk and waste. I don't really know why I do this. It could be related to my personality and choice of profession. I can't stand waste. If something is usable, then every effort should be made to use it. I've also worked in the waste hauling industry, albeit indirectly. I've seen the trade publications and read the articles, and am only too well aware of the hundreds of thousands of tons of trash we throw out every day. And it doesn't just disappear once the truck has driven away. It has to go somewhere. So my problem hasn't been removed, merely offloaded onto someone else. Ironically, the problem is that the waste hauling industry is too good at what it does. It makes throwing stuff away so easy that we hardly think twice about it. I've noticed that in myself. Since moving to this place with the big industrial dumpster out front, I'm no longer as worried about what I toss anymore. I don't work nearly as hard as I used to to avoid throwing things away. But it's still something I am conscious of and make every effort to remedy. This wasn't meant to toot my horn or make you feel bad about your habits. I think I just wanted to understand this in me and at least explain to Staz why the closet is overflowing with plastic bottles and newspapers, and let her know that I am going to get around to taking them in. Promise.