Don’t buy nothing – spend til you’re spent!

I recently heard that this Friday, today, was Buy Nothing Day – something I thought would be great to participate in being I am something of an anti-consumerist. It had me so excited, I decided to do a story on it for Spoke, the Conestoga College newspaper that I write for. I’d read on the Internet about the things groups of people have done in the past, such as a “whirly mart” (wheeling empty shopping carts around Wal-Mart in a conga line) and standing outside a store offering to cut up people’s credit cards. I decided I’d head straight over to Fairview Park Mall, my local mall, after work and see what was going on.

So what did I find when I got there?

Ironically, the only thing that made this day at the mall different than any other day was that there were a lot more people buying stuff than any other day. Disappointing? Absolutely, but it wasn’t totally unexpected. I don’t know why, but Buy Nothing Day happens to fall on the same day as what they in the States call “Black Friday,” the biggest shopping day of the year, not counting the last few days before Christmas. Everyone I talked to had no idea that today was Buy Nothing Day. Sure, everyone knew it was Black Friday because it’s advertised like crazy. Buy Nothing Day? Forget that, I gotta get my Christmas shopping done and take advantage of these unreal one-day sales while I can.

Which reminds me: few of the shoppers I saw today looked like they had any sign of Christmas cheer. And who could blame them? The mall was a zoo. Is it worth dealing with the crowd, the line-ups, the rain checks, to save money on something you don’t really need?

My answer is no! I don’t believe we can’t go a day without shopping. I support the idea of Buy Nothing Day, of buying nothing for one day just to make a statement to the corporations demanding we buy their stuff. The only thing that I would change would be to hold it on another day. Black Friday is too irrestible for most consumers.

I felt like the lone participant in Buy Nothing Day, bringing a bag lunch to eat in the food court (I did end up buying something later – bags for the green bin. But come on, we’d been out of them for three days and it was getting gross). The feeling of not buying anything (at least until later) gave me a peaceful feeling; at least, the most peaceful feeling you can get in a packed mall on the biggest shopping day of the year.

One man’s day-old bagels…

In a class discussion several weeks ago, someone brought up the topic of – of all things – dumpster diving (a.k.a. scrounging around in dumpsters for stuff that might still be good). It’s a pastime that many people find downright appalling, and if done recklessly, it can be dangerous and a nuisance to whoever owns the dumpster. But I support dumpster diving that is done right.

I even tried it myself once, with the dumpster behind the Mennonite Central Committee gift shop/thrift store in Elmira, just to try it. Some will argue it’s not actually “diving” unless you actually climb into the dumpster, which I didn’t. And, as can be expected, most of the stuff in there was admittedly garbage: obscure LPs of local boys’ choirs, old tired clothing, homemade audio mixtapes, and various broken kitchen utensils. I did find some things of value, which I quietly and subtly extracted from the dumpster: cross-stitch canvas and floss (I am a handycrafter), a cute kitten suncatcher in perfect condition that I later gave away (gasp!) as a gift, and a few of those old mixtapes, for taping over.

Was it worth it? I don’t know. Maybe I just visited the wrong dumpster. I heard Tim Horton’s tosses their day-old baking (I hate to think of that when I know people are going hungry), in plastic bags, meaning they are sanitary and untouched by whatever other gunk is in their dumpsters. It would be a great opportunity for someone who’s got a miniscule budget or someone who’s just a plain cheapskate, but for some reason Timmy’s keeps their dumpsters locked up. They lock up their garbage. It seems odd to protect something you’re throwing away from someone who could use it. I guess too many people couldn’t resist the idea of  free day-old bagels and were becoming a nuisance.

Found behind a thrift store I frequent - why do they lock up their garbage when it's of no value to them?

So here are some dumpster diving tips, gleaned from my vast plethora of common sense:

* Let the business/individual know what you intend to do with their garbage, and make sure they’re okay with it
* Don’t actually climb in – for safety’s sake!
* Don’t make a nuisance of yourself by coming too often or leaving a mess behind
* Wear gloves – avoid needles and broken glass
* Only take what you can actually use

I realize this little hobby isn’t for everyone. But if you get a kick out of it, go for it. You might find something amazing (unlike me).

How degrading!

If you see this on your next shopping bag, consider yourself warned

There’s a trend that’s been hot for awhile in grocery and retail bags now that I just can’t understand. And I’m not talking about those pesky “reusable” “cloth” bags (they’re actually plastic) that you can reuse about twice before the bottom falls out. The trend I’m referring to pertains to ordinary plastic bags, the ones that tumble down the street on windy days and, if they make it all the way out to sea, are swallowed by sea-dwelling creatures, causing great suffering and environmental damage.

Retail businesses, for some as yet unexplained reason other than cost, are not switching back to paper bags anytime soon, so in an attempt to appease today’s eco-conscious consumer, they have introduced what is ironically the latest environmental nightmare: DEGRADABLE plastic bags. Ooh, the average naive shopper thinks, if they even bother to glance at the new fancy word adorning their plastic bags before using them to line their garbage pails. My HMV bag is “degradable.” It sounds scientific, so it must be legit.

Example of the odd phenomenon that occurs when a "degradable" plastic bag reaches the end of its life

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the contrary…

We all know that “biodegradable” means that the food, shampoo, or other product it refers to breaks down after use and returns to the earth. So you’d think that “degradable,” an obviously related word, must mean something similar. It’s true, these new bags do spontaneously “degrade” into pieces given enough sunlight, oxygen, and time (about a month), and most of them probably do make it back to the earth, but here’s the catch: they don’t turn into soil. They remain plastic. So think about it: it’s not a whole plastic bag; it’s a million scattered pieces of a plastic bag – but it’s still there. Plastic doesn’t rot. Ever.

The good news is these bags  won’t choke sea creatures because it will probably break into pieces before an animal can even get hold of it. The bad news is, this “safe” plastic bag makes littering okay. Sure, go ahead and toss that bag into the bush – it’ll go to pieces anyway. Another downside is these Frankenstein plastics often aren’t recyclable, unlike regular plastic bags. And you can forget that other R, reuse, because the bag will disintegrate before you can use it again. I learned this the hard way when I attempted to store one of these suckers in my closet for reuse, and when I pulled it out later, it was half-disintegrated. Cleaning up the mess was a nightmare (plastic has great static cling).

So we’re down to the only R left: reduce. Reduce the number of times you come home with one of these bags – or better yet, say “No thanks!” and bring your own (watch that that bottom doesn’t fall out on you). And above all, remember: giant corporations know NOTHING when it comes to what’s good for the earth. Or for you and I, for that matter.

Fringe weirdo seen using film camera

A portrait of my lovely film camera, taken by my digital SLR

Last year I bought a used camera. It’s compact, so I can carry it in my purse easily. It’s discreet, so I can shoot street photos without distracting my subjects. But my favourite part is it’s theft-proof. Face it, no one would want to steal a point-and-shoot film camera. Heck, no one even wants to be seen with one these days. It’s not even a question of digital vs. film anymore.

But why? My camera (which I bought for $3 at a garage sale) works fine. Maybe I’m a fringe weirdo, but I still prefer a film camera. I like loading a physical film (vs. a memory card). I like the suspence of waiting to see how my photos turn out when they come back from Black’s. I like sliding those shiny prints into my album’s plastic sleeves. Maybe I can’t mess around with my pics on Photoshop, but I don’t really care about Photoshop anyway.

My compact digital camera (before it got dropped and broken), the second-best thing to a film camera until I could find one

The bottom line is this: think before you upgrade. Do you really, really have to? Do you even really want to? Or is it the ads, the people around you, the sales pressure? My camera example might be a little extreme, but the latest iPhone (the iPhone 4) is a perfect example. iPhone 3, iPhone 4 – what on earth is the difference, really? Every time I see the electronic-waste/computer drop-off site outside Rona, I wonder how many items are broken and are actually junk and how many still work perfectly fine but are simply last year’s model. I don’t want to sound doomsday, but the fact is our natural resources – the precious metals used to make these disposable gadgets – are running out, and I think we consumers should take a  little more responsibility about what we choose to buy – and what we choose to say no to.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to walk fearlessly through large urban crowds with my camera dangling by its wrist strap, excitedly counting down the number of pictures left on my 24-exposure film.

It’s the lack of enthusiasm that really stinks

Ah, the green bin. It’s one of those love-or-hate things. Thirty per cent-ish of Waterloo Region residents love (or at the very least, tolerate) using it. The rest of the population has an endless supply of excuses for leaving theirs to collect dust, or laundry, or potatoes, or whatever other alternate uses have been found. So far, every excuse I’ve heard is feeble:

1. “It’s just one more thing to drag to the curb every week.” At least you’re not the one dragging 7 tonnes of garbage into the truck every day, five days a week.

2. “The bin liners don’t fit.” So improvise. A McDonalds sack fits the kitchen container perfectly.

3. “The liners cost too much.” Ah, but what about your $6 Starbucks coffee? Besides, think about the long-term gain. Smaller landfills, a brighter future. Isn’t that worth a small sacrifice?

4. “Ew, the green bin smells.” Come on. It’s decaying food. DUH, it smells. But it smells the exact same when discarded in a conventional garbage bag. Besides, how can you use manure in your garden and clean up after your cat and not be able to handle a green bin?

The smell is by far the most ridiculous excuse. In our comfy-cozy world today, any exposure to anything natural and possibly unpleasant is quickly countered by an adjustment to the air conditioning dial or, when driving in the country, a quick rolling up of the windows (power windows, of course). Opening the lid of a green bin once a day and catching a whiff of a healthy, naturally-occurring process is just unheard of for today’s spoiled-rotten society. Even in the middle of a so-called “green movement.”

Personally, I am not bothered by the smell. Not at all. It helps that my family doesn’t eat a ton of meat or grease, so most of what goes in there is vegetable peelings, apple cores, the occasional egg shell, and lots and lots of coffee cups. The resulting smell can actually be pleasant: fruity and earthy.

But what do I know? It might save valuable space in our Erb Street landfill (only 20 years left, people), contribute to beautifully fertile farm soil, and provide a natural, back-to-the-earth satisfaction, but according to most of the Region, the green bin is not worth it. Why? Duh – it smells.