Don't worry, Substack, I can wait you out (Day 48)

I'm aghast at how many seemingly ethical actors have chosen to throw in with Substack even after revelations that they are platforming Nazis. If someone locked themselves into the service before--and they've grown dependent on the income from the paid subscriptions--I understand why they've remained. These services don't make it easy to transition away from them, and not everyone has the ability to create their own personalized service. 

But those aren't the only people on Substack, and I'm dismayed to see new or newish people popping up there all the time. This morning, while looking for the blog of one of my favorite authors, I discovered that he recently transitioned to Substack. Just...what? Does Nazi not conjure up images of bigotry and violence that it does for me? Did no one else get the lessons in school about how collaborators and bystanders facilitated them?

I am also unnerved by the sheer number; it's starting to feel like I'm surrounded. It's starting to take on an air of inevitability, as in, "Check my business' Facebook page for information about our hours." I don't have a choice, do I?

No, actually, I do. I'm not the one suffering if I don't subscribe to these people's newsletters, they are (and they can all stop pretending they're fooling anyone by "allowing" you to read their posts as blogs for free: anyone who's been on the internet for over a decade knows that won't last). And as inevitable as Facebook was, as inevitable as Twitter was, as inevitable as Instagram was, they are not now. The momentum had shifted to other platforms--which is something anyone who has been on the internet for five years can tell you. 

There's a universe of people who aren't going to reach me because they've decided to linger in a universe inhabited by Nazis. Well, this is their choice, but I'm going to remember (choices have consequences). And when their audience decides that they don't want to be in a constant state of being their customers, I suspect we'll start seeing a lot of public mea culpas.

The drama--the pageant of passions--is the only thing inevitable on the internet as it is today. I'll just be here, reading my books, wondering when people are going to stop repeating each other's mistakes. 

Bonus: Nazi-free.

Deb in the City

Recycling, but it’s never that simple

It surprises me that there are still people who are surprised that plastic recycling is, well, a joke, and always has been. I know it is, not because I’m psychic or because I’ve been digging through secret industrial reports, but because I’ve been reading things on websites and in books that have been widely available to everybody.

Well, so we’re clear – plastic recycling is a joke. This story from Planet Money does an excellent job explaining why, as well as the history of how it came to be seen as, well, not a joke.

Glass recycling is a little better in that the odds that your container will be recycled are greater than one out of two, but not bymuch. (Hint: glass breaks.) The best things to recycle are aluminum, because that doesn’t break as much, and it makes more financial sense for the metal to be melted down and reused. So recycle your cans with confidence.

I really want to say something here about how the best thing to do is to not buy packaged goods at all, and that’s the best thing for the planet. And it’s true. But I can’t help thinking about that single parent working a couple of jobs so they can hurriedly feed their children, and it’s hard for me to lecture them about buying cereal (with a coated cardboard box and plastic liner) or frozen dinners they can heat up. I’m really also not in the mood to entertain lectures on behalf of those parents about how they can batch cook on the weekends, in part because I know how easily children who are hyperaware of how many options they don’t have don’t like to have what few choices they have about food made for them a few days in advance.

So here’s a compromise: everyone who can should avoid packaging, and those of us with resources to spare (in this case, time) should lobby our federal representatives and senators to make laws forbidding the use of plastic packaging – and raising both the minimum wage and guaranteed benefits for all parents.

Pause

If my last post sounds a little bitter, it’s because I came to the realization a few days ago that I needed to pause the writing project I’ve been working on since 2017 so I can accomplish the project I’m referring to. Sorry, I could of course do both, but it’s become evident to me that if I don’t want to have any more episodes like the one I did on December 30, I need to take pressure off of myself.

Bitterness comes from thinking about the pages I’ve already lost.

Full disclosure: there is one more project I have to work on during this time. My sons are nearing the end of their homeschooling career, and it’s time to move them on. We’re focusing on finishing up math, getting them ready for assessments, and working on their transcripts. This is non-negotiable. It’s not hours of work every day – well, not too many hours – but it’s work that needs to be done just about every day. I can do two things pretty well, but I can’t do three.

I picture myself, the last few days of April, and certainly the first week of May, writing furiously to give voice to the characters who have pounding on the walls of my subconscious to get out, and I picture my sons feeling confident about what the months after will bring for them.

The difference between a fantasy and a plan is the work we put into it.