So by now I’m sure you heard that Obummer has opened up our coastlines to oil exploration leases. Not sure when that’s set to start. So much for his campaign promise to move toward renewable and sustainable energy. But then again, did I actually expect him to keep any promises? (uh, no – I did not vote for him – Ron Paul all the way, baby!)
So we’ve been having a discussion on Facebook about these leases. Some folks who were/are Obamma supporters are, needless to say, unhappy with this decision. Understandable – that was a big campaign promise just hucked into the oil spill. At one point, a friend suggested that we need to move away from OIL DEPENDENCE, not just foreign oil. I heartily agree (even though she’s an Obammaniac… 🙂 Love you, Donna).
But at the same time, as I thought more about it, I think I’ve come to the realization that it’s nearly impossible to be completely independent of oil. Hell – even if you walk everywhere, 99% of shoes are made with oil-based rubber soles. (you can buy some with natural rubber – but do those people use oil to harvest it?). If you chose to ride a horse, there’s oil involved in the mining of the metal for their shoes. Bikes? How about those tires, the oil for the chain, the seat (unless you get a lovely Brooks leather saddle), the mining of the metal for just about all the parts? Look around, can you find much of anything on your desk (including the computer you’re reading this on) that isn’t made of oil-based plastics?
Gosh, as much as I’d love to say YEAH, let’s ditch all oil and get back to the old ways… the reality is, we’re too far gone. So many things that we rely on for our every day lives are either made directly from oil based products, or they relied on oil for their harvest and manufacture.
Are we doomed? Is there a way to free ourselves from the addiction?
The lucid dreams continue. This time about the quintessential, perfect farm house. There were verdant green pastures out the back door for as far as you could see. A garden already tilled and fenced in. The house was an ancient farm house with high ceilings, hand-hewn crown molding. The walls were painted the most calming green. Beautiful wood floors. Not opulent in any way – but beautifully simple. I walked through the entire thing a couple times. If I wanted to, I could probably describe every room in great detail, down to the furniture and textiles. In my dream it was situated in the farmlands of western Illinois, just east of Iowa. I don’t have any plans to ever live in that area of the country again. But my gosh, this farmhouse had me drooling. Oozing with beautiful simplicity. Screaming of agrarian life.
I’ve pretty much given up the house hunt for now. I still get some emails from a local Realtor, but anything I can afford is not somewhere I’d care to live. Besides, that stupid debt fear still has me quaking in my boots. At this rate, I’ll be 100 before I own anything I have to make payments on.
Half-day of work tomorrow. I love holidays. Not that Good Friday is necessarily something to “celebrate” – but I’ll take the half-day anyway.