![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Two radically different things that bug me
Mar. 4th, 2007 12:07 pmA floating field of garbage, roughly the size of Texas, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Imagine being on a boat in the middle of the ocean, under the unbroken blue dome of a sky rendered cloudless by a standing zone of high pressure, and all around you, and I mean this in an entirely literal sense, from horizon to horizon in every direction, you see nothing but plastic trash. You think, "Christ, I have got to get the hell out of here!" and two weeks later, you are finally clear of it.
Not-exactly-Fun Fact: "Bio-degradable plastic" does not actually bio-degrade. It photo-degrades. The difference is that light, specifically sunlight, can render plastic brittle, so that it breaks into ever-smaller pieces, but although the plastic pieces change in size, they do not change in composition. Even broken down to the level of the individual molecules, that plastic is still the same compound as is was when it was a styrofoam cup or vinyl soccer ball or bottle of pure mineral spring water. Sure, molecular granules of plastic don't ensnare otters or strangle sea-birds, but they do get into the bloodstream and tissues of marine life. Not only that, but rather like seeding clouds to condense water vapor into rain droplets, these micrograins of plastic (the larger pieces too) attract and concentrate non-water soluble toxins, so that they can be more effectively ingested by creatures at all stages of the food chain.
I am flatly horrified by this, so I have to deliberately not think about it, suppress it, so that it only registers as chronic, low-grade moral irritation, because I simply do not know what to do about a floating field of garbage the size of Texas, and if I let myself start dwelling on what it must be like to be a sea-bird dying of starvation because its digestive tract has become entirely filled with bottle caps, I will go just that much more insane.
The other is less global in scale, but affects me more directly.
My upstairs neighbor is screwing the living hell out of their new significant other between 12 and 2AM every single night.
I'm very happy for them except for the fact they they have an extremely squeaky bed, and the headboard is apparently too close to the wall, so we got percussion as well as springs, and the ferocity with which they go at it makes THE DOOR TO MY BEDROOM RATTLE IN THE FRAME. I am totally not exaggerating here. I have the roommate as a witness. Did the earth move for you, sweetheart? Because down here, I seriously thought we were having a fucking earthquake (which I suppose we were, in a manner of speaking...) I don't know for sure which neighbor it is, but I think it's the hot dykey chick upstairs, because 4-6 times in a row, 15-20 minutes at a go, with only a 5-10 minute recovery time in between rounds--that's either a strap-on or a guy on enough Viagra to cause a retinal hemorrhage, and I don't think any of the men in my building can afford that much medication, not even bootleg from Thailand.
Imagine being on a boat in the middle of the ocean, under the unbroken blue dome of a sky rendered cloudless by a standing zone of high pressure, and all around you, and I mean this in an entirely literal sense, from horizon to horizon in every direction, you see nothing but plastic trash. You think, "Christ, I have got to get the hell out of here!" and two weeks later, you are finally clear of it.
Not-exactly-Fun Fact: "Bio-degradable plastic" does not actually bio-degrade. It photo-degrades. The difference is that light, specifically sunlight, can render plastic brittle, so that it breaks into ever-smaller pieces, but although the plastic pieces change in size, they do not change in composition. Even broken down to the level of the individual molecules, that plastic is still the same compound as is was when it was a styrofoam cup or vinyl soccer ball or bottle of pure mineral spring water. Sure, molecular granules of plastic don't ensnare otters or strangle sea-birds, but they do get into the bloodstream and tissues of marine life. Not only that, but rather like seeding clouds to condense water vapor into rain droplets, these micrograins of plastic (the larger pieces too) attract and concentrate non-water soluble toxins, so that they can be more effectively ingested by creatures at all stages of the food chain.
I am flatly horrified by this, so I have to deliberately not think about it, suppress it, so that it only registers as chronic, low-grade moral irritation, because I simply do not know what to do about a floating field of garbage the size of Texas, and if I let myself start dwelling on what it must be like to be a sea-bird dying of starvation because its digestive tract has become entirely filled with bottle caps, I will go just that much more insane.
The other is less global in scale, but affects me more directly.
My upstairs neighbor is screwing the living hell out of their new significant other between 12 and 2AM every single night.
I'm very happy for them except for the fact they they have an extremely squeaky bed, and the headboard is apparently too close to the wall, so we got percussion as well as springs, and the ferocity with which they go at it makes THE DOOR TO MY BEDROOM RATTLE IN THE FRAME. I am totally not exaggerating here. I have the roommate as a witness. Did the earth move for you, sweetheart? Because down here, I seriously thought we were having a fucking earthquake (which I suppose we were, in a manner of speaking...) I don't know for sure which neighbor it is, but I think it's the hot dykey chick upstairs, because 4-6 times in a row, 15-20 minutes at a go, with only a 5-10 minute recovery time in between rounds--that's either a strap-on or a guy on enough Viagra to cause a retinal hemorrhage, and I don't think any of the men in my building can afford that much medication, not even bootleg from Thailand.
