there's sweat on our hands

So. In one of my classes, we were discussing counterfeits and sweatshops. Here is how it goes. The price of clothes has gone down, while everything else has gone up (inflation). Why? Because we, consumers, you and me, refuse to pay market price. It is not primarily the fault of the manufacturer, for paying less than a living wage. If he does not respond to the retailer's demand, he won't survive. It is NOT, as we would like to think, the retailer's fault, for ripping us off. No. Demand is the problem here. We want clothes of good quality, cheaply, and we want the stock to change every month. In no other market does that happen, and it cannot happen without a sweatshop-type system.
Here's why: The most negotiable part of manufacturing costs is labor. Fabric, shipping, shoplifting, those things are hard to change. It is much easier to find someone desperate enough to work for nearly nothing, in terrible conditions, and thus keep the prices lower than they logically should be. I am not saying the retailers and manufacturers are blameless, just that the majority of responsibility lies with consumers. That is how capitalism works, and it can work for good as well as evil.
Here is the uncomfortable truth. If you have ever handed over money to Wal-mart, Target, Kohls, T.J. Maxx,a dollar store, or any comparable business, your bucks supported the sort of slave-like system we would like to think doesn't exist. Be grateful you're at the top of the food chain, because there are thousands who aren't.
I've done this. So have you. There's sweat on our hands. Our money matters.
So having said all that depressing business, what are you supposed to do? Research. Sorry. That's all there is to it. Know. Inform yourself. And for pete's sake rethink whether or not you NEED new stuff every two weeks. I know, funny coming from me. Thrift stores my friend. If I didn't have to run off, I would write an emotional, economic ode to a thrift store. Hmmm. maybe later.

things.

learning to appreciate being on the outside.

because you're never really on the inside in this world.

or at least very rarely.

And the sensation of being on the outside

makes finding people of your own ilk

a million times more delightful.



Sometimes when I'm walking across the bridge, particularly on days so sharp and beautiful they could cut cardboard, I stop. And lean over the railing. And remember why I like Minnesota.

The last while

I've been discovering

Things again.

like art, and why I want to do it for the rest of my life.

That I can't not do it

Specifically

I like making things way too much


I've been

keeping up my love affair with music

And listening to Vitas on Halloween.

Forgive my randomness

but im about to do homework, and that always makes me random.

It's been a good little-more-than-half-a-semester.

there are roughly three million ways to draw an orange

the disgracefully neglectful blog owner returns

So I was driving the other day. It was rainy and chilly and cozy.I was listening to Bright Eyes, and thinking that whoever put car rides and music together has preserved much sanity, Lord bless him. When I listen to music in the car, it's like the speed and sound combine to clean all the junk out of my brain. The big messy world becomes less frightening. This reminded me of Micaela's post on music in the car, and how much I love reading my friends' blogs. When the posts are thoughtful and well-written, it is very encouraging, especially when they describe God's grace working in their lives.

Now, sometimes life becomes too hectic to blog, sometimes you get month-long writers block, sometimes things and thoughts simply belong on paper, and not on the internet. I guess my point is that blogging is not a worthless endeavor as some folks like to think. It is simply the power of the pen in a different form. The words and truths and feelings and thoughts are the same as those expressed thousands of years ago. To quote Gandalf: "And that is an encouraging thought."

The last Titanic survivor died today. She was an infant when the ship went down, and she lived to be 98. I'm sure she doesn't remember it, but it brings up a point. What happens to history when all the witnesses are gone? What will happen when everyone who witnessed 9/11 is dead? History is important, for if we ignore it, it repeats itself, and not in a good way. It made me want to be certain my children, or whoever, knows what happened before they existed, and know its immense impact.

Skin

I think something God taught me this year is the utter foolishness of judging people by appearance. I haven't got it down by any means, but I think I've been observing the havoc that mistake can wreak. A few incidents underlined it.
My grandpa is just about the cutest old man I have ever seen. He has glasses, pure white hair, and a perfectly curly, groomed mustache. He looks harmless. Yet when he was in Italy with my grandma, and someone tried to pick his pocket, he grabbed the guy by the thumb and threw him over his shoulder to the ground. Harmless....no.
For Mall Madness with Bethlehem, I went goth. As I was walking around the mall, looking terrifying and getting my fair share of stares, it struck me again how much of a person's self goes on completely and utterly unknown and unseen, regardless of their appearance.
And, as you may know, I adore people-watching. I have learned one major thing from it. People. Are. All. Alike. Yes, they are unique too. But every single one cares about something. They are searching for something to love. To worship. The places we look are endless, yet we are all looking. There is only One who can satisfy desire.
So in view of eternity, your appearance is not life or death. When you look at people, see what God sees. A tall order, I know. But a worthwhile one. Remember that he formed every face, every eye, every sense of style, every build. He placed the freckles and colored the hair. He painted our skin a thousand different shades. Every single human is a masterpiece, a walking, living,breathing work of art. Eight billion of them. Not one is wasted, or without beauty, whether inner or outer. I wish there were a word in English to communicate the fact that as you come to know someone, even if they are plain at first sight, if their soul and mind and heart are beautiful, it colors your vision when you look at them. As C.S. Lewis said, "There are no ordinary people."

STALKER! or, The Universalness of Water

As I walked past the school drinking fountains this morning, I was suddenly possessed with a desire to rig a camera to take a picture of them every time someone pushed the button for a drink. What would you see?
I have stalker tendencies. I will (sort of) inconspicuously follow an interesting person for no other reason than to observe them. Cities make me happy because they provide an endless wealth of people to observe. I DO NOT DO THIS MALICIOUSLY. I have a nosy, inquisitive desire to see at least a tiny sliver of other people's lives, of their thoughts. Now you tell me, is this a bad thing or a good thing? COMMENT. I don't usually demand comments, but this time I want to know. I have an opinion, but it isn't coming out of the bag till I get some feedback.