conditioning

A few notes on conditioning:


One of the biggest differences between us and the US is the accessibility of recycling receptacles in both countries.


Here is a quote I found from comedian Jimmy Carr: "Environmentalism is, of course, the new religion. Recycling is the new praying -- it makes you feel better but doesn't make any difference -- and becoming carbon neutral is like paying the church for a plenary indulgence in the Middle Ages. If you don't think that environmentalism is a religion, try telling someone you don't believe in global warming: they go mental."


Now I don't necessarily agree with the recycling means nothing statement, but back home, recycling is like a religion. If you are seen throwing an aluminium can into a garbage bin on the street, you are persecuted by mobs of granola-eating, hemp-wearing, three-R abiding citizens. I've actually seen someone burned at a stake because they chucked a carton of beer bottles out at the landfill and they didn't cut-up one of those six-pack holders that birds apparently choke on. (Okay, no I didn't, but you get my point right.)


But in the cities I've visited so far, I have been thoroughly unable to find recycling bins. I've walked the streets with plastic bottles so long they eventually take the shape of my hands, searching for a blue or green bin. But nothing. So, reluctantly, and very discretely, I dispose of them in garbage bins. And to further the religion analogy, I feel guilty afterward, like I've committed a sin or crime.


Now is that because I've been so completely conditioned in Canada? Or because it's just an immoral thing to do? I mean, one bottle, in the scheme of things, won't make a difference right?


(Note: I'm also devising a theory on determining how progressive and liberal states in the US are by how many readily-available recycle bins are on the streets of its cities.)


Second.

I'm a guy who needs a distraction to fall asleep. I've had a TV in my room since I was pre-pubed and in latter years, I've dozed off to music via iPod, or to movies on my laptop.


On this trip, I am without any of these sleep aides, and have thusly had some terribly troubling times venturing off to lala land.


So I've created some games:


I've tried to remember all the different street names on the Monopoly board. Pacific Ave. (one of the green ones) eluded me for like three nights. It actually bothered me. I'm still one railroad short. There's BO, Short Line, Reading and....?


I've tried to remember all the hostels I stayed at, in what cities, and what their names were.


I tried to think back and name all the girls I've kissed in my life -- that game is always over pretty quickly.


Third.


Being without tunes, when they are typically my constant companion, has been tough. I've begun very quietly singing them when I'm not near anyone on the street. It's getting a little weird.

At this library, I've been able to listen to some of the songs that have tormented me. It's so nice that I think I soiled my pantaloon -- in a Harvard library.


And that bit of classiness is hopefully why you keep coming back.