by Jessica Mosby
– USA –
For almost two years, I have been reviewing documentary films for The WIP. I have spent countless hours in dark movie theaters so moved by what is on screen that I promise myself that I will completely change my very existence, especially when the film is environmentally themed. I do make changes, real changes. Yet, at times I feel that I am failing as a burgeoning environmentalist.
There are some things I am doing right: I live in a very small walk-up studio apartment with no air-conditioning and one radiator that can only come on a few hours a day. My apartment building is over 75 years old and has had few updates. The Greening of Southie this is not. I have reduced my energy consumption, thanks in large part to forgoing the dryer and hanging up wet clothes to dry in my bathroom. I also work from home, so my “commute” involves walking across the room, sitting down at my flea market desk, and opening my laptop. Most days I work in my flannel gnome pajamas until lunch, so I’m saving water by the lack of bathing and clean clothes. This is major because when I do shower, I’m a slowpoke who likes the water very hot.
When I leave my apartment, I walk. If a car trip is required, I organize a carpool driving my newer fuel-efficient compact. By a very fortuitous coincidence, I live in a utopian neighborhood where literally everything I need in life is within a three-block radius. Adding to the idealism, the majority of the stores in my neighborhood are independently owned and carry locally made goods. And, of course, I carry my own reusable shopping bag.
I carry my water bottle everywhere, and fanatically refill it at restaurants with my friends’ half empty water glasses. Flow, I heard your message loud and clear! Well, at least the part about not using water bottles and drinking tap water; I’m still working on reducing my overall water consumption.
But when I travel (mostly for work), suddenly I am a different person: an SUV driving, meat eating, disposable cup using, devil-may-care-about-the-environment type of person. Not to mention the huge carbon footprint of flying, which is considerable because I spent almost a third of the past two years on the road.
Part of me blames it on circumstance; the city where I have spent weeks on end is not a hotbed of environmentalism. But there is an awesome food cooperative that I love. Unfortunately, it’s a 30-minute drive from the hotel where I stay – that’s a lot of gas in my rented SUV (which I need to transport people and materials for my job). So if I can face the drive, I tend to significantly overbuy and then food spoils. Colin Beavan of No Impact Man would have biked across town to patronize a place with locally-grown food, but I am not plucky enough to brave the locale’s heat and humidity on a bike.
Excuses, excuses, you say! And you would be right! Using Reduce, Reuse, Recycle as my motto, I feel like I have the recycling part down pat. I recycle everything I can, and I often go through friends’ and family’s trash pulling out recyclables (it’s charming, I promise). But as I’ve written before, “Recycling alone isn’t enough to save us.” With that truth in mind, reusing is slowly becoming a strong suit.
I buy organic milk in glass bottles and yogurt in terracotta containers that I return to my local grocery store, and exclusively use rechargeable batteries. I try to avoid all things disposable, instead favoring items that can be reused. Sometimes this is as simple as buying honey in a Mason jar that I can later give to my Mom and Grandma for canning.
And yet, if I’m trying so hard, why is there still so much trash and recycling leaving my apartment every week? For one, paper is my arch nemesis; between magazines, junk mail, and work-related papers I’m killing a few trees every day. Most weeks, my trash is filled with food waste that could have been composted if I didn’t live on the third floor and have a fruit fly problem. This summer I have big composting plans.
Before I really go into my most discomforting failing, I will reveal one of my biggest triumphs: handkerchiefs.
My Grandma introduced me to the world of “snot rags” – as she affectionately calls them – about six years ago. Since then, I have amassed a healthy supply of vintage handkerchiefs to aid in my constant nose-blowing. I am never without a “public” handkerchief (think cute, linen, and monogrammed) to gracefully dab my nose while in the company of others. At home, alone on my laptop, I rely on my “private” stash of large used cloth napkins.
Now we reach my most disgraceful environmental shortcoming: my failure to reduce my consumption of material goods. I never intended to accumulate so much stuff. And yet, bits and pieces always seem to find me, be they from thrift stores, flea markets, or online shops.
Buying stuff makes me happy. I console myself by trying to buy used things that many would consider “junk.” But all justifications aside, the bottom line is I cannot live an environmentally conscious life without reducing what I buy. And that means curbing my almost insatiable desire for belongings. While big ticket purchases like a hybrid car or solar panels are out of reach, I am fortunate enough to have a day job complete with benefits and a retirement plan that allows me to be adamant about buying local food, even if it does cost more. Sometimes I’m shocked at how much I spend at a Saturday morning farmers market buying food for just one person.
My favorite yogurt in those terracotta containers? One jar costs a staggering $5 (including $1.50 for the container deposit). And my utopian neighborhood where everything is within walking distance? The monthly rent on my studio apartment is more expensive than the mortgages some of my out-of-state friends pay.
While evaluating myself, I realized that a definite economic privilege is required to live the level of environmental consciousness I currently practice, much less aspire to. If I could just “drop-out” of society and go live off-the-grid somewhere, then I could live in complete harmony with nature. I could become a model of environmentalism. Regrettably, I feel that environmentalism has, in many ways, become synonymous with elitism. But this isn’t going to stop me from trying! The price of consuming less is within everyone’s budget.
Jessica’s article is part of our focus on Sustainability & Responsible Stewardship. – Ed.
About the Author
Jessica Mosby is a writer and critic living in Oakland, California. In the rare moments when she’s not traveling across the United States for work, Jessica enjoys listening to public radio, buying organic food at local farmers markets, trolling junk stores, and collecting owl-themed tchotchke.
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