The Shampoo-Free Experiment

After getting involved in state legislation regarding banning plastic bags and styrofoam take-out containers on the islands, I started looking around and learnin' up on a variety of plastic-related issues. I found a number of blogs and websites and products and articles that all have to do with reducing the plasticized nature of our modern day life.

Some tips are easy and obvious. (use canvas bags for grocery shopping) (and by the way, plastic bags will still come into your home that you can use to scoop up poop and what not-- newspaper bags, bread bags, cereal bags, frozen veggie bags, fresh fruit bags. Dropping plastic grocery bags from your life is not the end-all solution to getting that 300 million ton glob of plastic out of our ocean, but it is a step within a series of steps that I think people should be willing to take.)

Some tips are less easy and less obvious. (making your own toothpaste, soymilk, fruitjuice, canning your own vegetables because modern metal cans have a thin plastic coating on them-- these are all things I don't do, and probably won't do. But if you're into, hey. Bully for you, because that's awesome.)

Some tips are downright absurd. (Stop using shampoo and conditioner.)

Which leads me into my latest reduce-the-plastic-content-in-my-life-somewhat experiment, in which I stop shampooing and conditioning my hair for at least a week, and longer if it turns out well. And I figured that this is the week to do it, because it's spring break, so if it goes badly I won't get the reputation around the department of being Bad Hygiene Girl. Hmm... now that's a supervillian toady name if ever I heard one. Hmmm....

My week is not yet up, but as I'll be going away for the weekend, and will have other things to talk about after I come back, I decided to go ahead with an explanation of my experiment and some preliminary findings.

I read a couple of blogs from women who had tried dropping shampoo and conditioner from their lives, and substituted baking soda rinses and vinegar rinses, respectively. This switch has the potential to be less expensive, and because vinegar can be bought in a glass bottle, it has the potential to reduce household plastic consumption by a pretty good bit.

"My hair looks great!" they said, "Better than ever!"

"It doesn't smell like vinegar!" they said, "Not even a bit!"

"I've streamlined the rinse-making process," they said, "So it's really easy and quick to set up for showertime."

How fantastic, I thought. I'd best give this a go. Except, I didn't have any baking soda on hand. No worries, though. I started out that first day with shampoo and vinegar, and this is what I found:

Recipe: 3parts hot water, 1part vinegar, rosemary for scent.

The rosemary did not affect the scent at all. It just smelled like vinegar (though others swear rosemary works great). I washed my hair as normal, and then poured my vinegar concoction over my hair. It felt like I was just pouring water over my head. My hair did not become smooth or light or tangle free. I thought, well, that's a wash. (sorry) But then, the moment I went to rinse it out of my hair, the moment I stepped back under the showerhead, my hair went smooth and sleek and really felt as though I had conditioned it. And the vinegar smell washed down the drain as well. It was great. Brushing it out after the shower, it was slightly more tangled than normal, but still well within manageable range.

When Michael came home, I asked him to smell my hair. He buried his nose deep in my hair, deliberated with deep breaths, and declared, "It smells like mayonaise." What? "It smells like mayonaise." A lot? "No, not a lot." He said he wouldn't even notice it except that I had requested he put his face inside my hair and go searching for scents. So... not completely smell free as some others have claimed.

The next day, we went shopping and I got some baking soda so I could go all out with this experiment.

Recipe: 1tsp to 1tbsp ish baking soda, 1 cup ish of shower water (mixed in a jar in the shower; leftover rosemary vinergar solution, smelling now even less like rosemary and more like vinegar.

I poured the baking soda solution over my hair and rubbed it in. Obviously, it doesn't suds like shampoo, but still I could feel it rinsing oils and whatnot out of my hair. Then I poured the vinegar solution over, as the day before.

There were no tangles when I brushed my hair out afteward. None. At no other time in my life, when my hair has been longer than quiteshort, have I had no tangles when I brushed out my hair after a shower. But here now, there was no effort to it. The brush went right through. And when my hair dried it was... well, normal. There was no change from it's typical texture, cleanliness, etc. It looked like always.

Three times now I've washed my hair with baking soda, and four times conditioned with vinegar. My hair is just as clean as ever. On the day when I used more baking soda than others, the volume of my hair nearly doubled. Not a huge frizzy mess, just... big. My hair is still curly, still soft. I don't smell like vinegar, although when Michael goes searching for any smell, he still holds there is a faint hint of mayonaise. I'm also trying out different scents than rosemary. Currently I'm using a rinse made with pumpkin spice tea and vinegar. I can get a faint whiff of pumpkin spice every now and again, no vinegar. Next I'm going to try clove. Maybe cinnamon, maybe nutmeg, maybe... who knows?

I'm going to keep with this, I think. Less plastic, less expensive, same hair. And it is quick and easy to do, with actually less scrubbing and rinsing and brushing effort than when I use shampoo and conditioner. I can dig that. I'll update later on if it continues going well, or if it stops going well. But short term results are promising.

NEXT: My next blog entry will almost certainly regard my upcoming trip to the Big Island. On Friday and Saturday I'm going to a site visit for my summer program. I'll get to see where I'll be living and working, meet the folks, poke around, organize some stuff. Very exciting.

Comprende?

I still dream in Spanish. Not every night, and some weeks more than others, but I'll have these dreams where I'm talking to people and the Spanish will come out. Sometimes I'll be introduced to a Spanish-speaker who barely speaks English and I'll tell them that Spanish is fine and we'll converse that way. Sometimes they'll start of saying something in English, but just run out of words.

Sometimes I'll describe what I did in Chicago. I'll tell them that most of my Spanish sucks, but if they want to talk about eligibility for foodstamps, I've got all sorts of vocabulary for conversation. They usually think that's pretty funny. It is my experience in real life that when you speak to someone in their native language, they are mighty forgiving of mistakes and limitations. Of course, this doesn't really hold true for Americans because we seem to think that everyone on Earth should be able to speak perfect English, but we're not talking about us, are we?

Last night in my dream, I was talking with this lady who only spoke Spanish, and while I could understand everything she said (and she used much better grammar than I typically do), I just couldn't get my own Spanish up and going so well. In my dream, I thought, "This is it. Six months away from Spanish speakers, and there goes my language ability."

I know the words are in my head. The grammar is in my head. The fact that my dream characters speak so well is proof of that. Years ago when we went to Guatemala, I thought I could barely speak Spanish at all-- right up until it turned out I was one of the best Spanish-speakers on the trip. I became one of the translators, and I found myself saying things that I hadn't realized I knew how to say until the words were coming out of my mouth. They say necessity is the mother of invention. Well, she's also the mother of language memory, it turns out.

Last time I lost my fluency (my easy-to-access-non-necessity fluency), my dreams in Spanish stopped almost as soon as I stopped speaking it on a daily basis. It surprises me that they continue still this time around. Unless maybe the language is now wired in my brain as part of that feeling of home, and Spanish dreams are a manifestation of homesickness. After all, I still dream of Memphis even though I've not lived there in... god, ten years now.

In other news, I have a job interview this afternoon, and Cliff has submitted my CV to another potential employer. I'll talk about that more when there's more to talk about. My GA-ship for this year runs out in a couple months, and I'll need to get paid again after that's done. Working on that.

I think I have finished the "reading" portion of this next paper I'm working on, which means all I have left is the "writing" part. Piece of cake, yeah?

Novel editing is coming along slowly, now that I'm so concerned with making it "good."

I intend to interview business leaders in Honolulu next week in order to find out what they really think of the now defeated plastic bag ban. Hopefully by the time I've finished all that, I'll have finished my current paper and will be ready to start writing a new one.

I have made a vow to go on a long walk on days in which I would otherwise not have left my desk. "Vow" is perhaps a strong word. It is perhaps, even, a lie. But I do mean to start taking walks, because some days I just don't leave my living room. And that, my friends, is no way to live.

Woof

Jeremie, this brilliant gay friend of mine that has been my point of reference and sunshine for the last five years whom I couldn't possibly do without, suggested I be a little more specific about who I'm talking about when I mention him in my blog posts. (How was that, J?)

Anyway, the neverending supply of roadside garbage has come through yet again. On Thursday I found a speakerbox, huge and heavy and perfect (after a few minor alterations) to house my future vermicomposting project. It took Michael and I both to carry it home. But. It was worth it because while it's not the exact size and shape I would have built had I built my vermicomposting box from scrap wood, it is still an acceptable size and shape. And it's neat. So we carried it home and I set about the minor alterations.

On Friday I took all the electronics out, clipping wires, salvaging screws, and generally getting freaked out by the insulation inside. I hate the way cotton feels when it pulls apart. I have no excuse. It's one of my weird things. Pulling the insulation out promised to be annoying. I put it off until Saturday. I did decide to keep the woofer (or maybe subwoofer? I don't really know the difference) because it looks cool. I may use it as a lid to my bucket-o-browns -- not because it's practical but because it looks cool. Also it's heavy; it would definitely keep my dry leaves and stuff from blowing away, so I guess it's a little practical. Plus it looks cool. I've never really played with stereos or other electronics, so these pieces are all very interesting to me.

On Saturday I set about pulling out the insulation, but not before sawing open the front casing of the box. I love, I love, I love, taking things apart. I also love putting things back together, although I won't be doing that in this case. This is so much fun. Except for pulling out the insulation. That wasn't very much fun at all.

For the box to be complete, I need to create a lid to keep birds out. I can't have the tropical birds eating up my Waimanalo Blues. Also, I need to create a catch basin for any potential drippings. I'm keeping my eye out for something useful in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. Something will come up, I'm sure. I have ever-growing faith in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. People, it turns out, have a lot of stuff. And they throw a lot of it away. And some of it isn't junk. Or at least if it is junk, some of the pieces are still useful for other things.

The moral of this story is that I am slowly and surely on my way to getting some pet worms.

Riting Kan Bee Fun

It seems all I do is write anymore. Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. As it turns out, I really enjoy writing. I even enjoy writing academic type things, which is good because there is much to be done in that arena.

I took a couple weeks off from fiction writing in February because I just couldn't get any of my stories together. It was really getting me down too. After managing nanowrimo and then a couple more month-long novels after that, I thought I had lost my touch. I was quite pleased with the video we made for Showdown in Chinatown this month. I had a lot of fun writing it with Tony, and actually, I think that was the first time I actually sat down with another person and wrote something together. Great fun.

So now, on to my next project. It's nanoedmo, which means it is time to edit that month-long novel that I slammed out without any regards to structure or content. I looked at it this week for the first time in months. I read through the whole thing. And... it's actually not that bad. It's actually pretty durned entertaining. I actually think there's a publish-worthy novel in there. And no, Jeremie, you may not read it yet, even if it's not as bad as I feared.

Because first, it needs a whole hell of a lot of work. But I'm pleased with it, and so I'm working on structure and content. I'll get a readable first draft and then I'll send it around to whoever wants to read and review (and beta, in J's case).

Problem is, April is Script Frenzy. Yup, write a 100 page script in a month. Woohoo! I have an idea that I think will be fun to explore, so I'm gonna go with that. Fun times ahead.

In the meantime, it turns out that I'm still in grad school. I have a pretty big paper I'm working on right now, and after that I'll have a couple more pretty big papers to work on. It'll be great. I'm still hopeful that I can propose my Masters research this semester, but I will have to work quite hard to get to that point. And so, I will work quite hard. I've already made a couple of contacts for people to interview, and it seems as though my research is on the right track in the communities' eyes. That is nice.

I also have a couple of job possibilities coming my way for next school year. I'll let you know as that develops, because it promises to be interesting.

Eh, sorry. Guess I'm all writed out. No great cleverness at ol' 82andsunny today.

The Most Romantic Love Scene EVER

Fair warning: This video is NOT work safe. And what are you doing reading my blog while you're at work? Huh?

So, G.P.E.C.W.A.O.S.H. participated in Showdown in Chinatown once again this month. Typically, you have one week in which to create a short film about a topic. Well, we goofed and didn't get this month's topic (Dating) until we had only 48 hours left. So we slammed this puppy together, deciding to rely heavily on our writing and less so on our barely mediocre technical skills. We are writers after all. The result is below. No, we didn't win anything. The films are judged on technical stuff. But we were an audience favorite. Nay, we were THE audience favorite. They closed the night with our film, to great applause by all. Fantastic. I'm well pleased.

Vermicomposting

Yesterday morning Michael and I took a walk to the canal to look at the ducks. Then we walked a bit further to see if we could spy some hummingbirds. Then we walked back.

One of the great things about our neighborhood is that there is a never ending supply of roadside garbage to look through when you're out and about. I say "one of the great things" because I like to be silver-liningish about this. And it's true that we've gotten a number of good things out this roadside garbage supply, including two chairs, an end table, a bookshelf on wheels, the wood I used to build our microwave shelf, a notebook with plastic insert page holder thingies (currently holding the music for my ukulele lessons), and most recently, a cookbook.

But slightly before finding the cookbook, and slightly after looking for hummingbirds, we found some planters. There were quite a few, actually, but we only grabbed two medium sized pots, one of which has wires and a hook so it can hang from the ceiling. They're both plastic, and one of them has stickers all over it proclaiming it to cost 88 cents! But in good shape, both of them.

Walking home, we saw Walter at the bus stop. Walter, of course, lives downstairs and watches the building for the building management company. He was the first person I talked to about getting this apartment, and he helped us get in, even though we wouldn't be able to see the place before signing the lease and all that. Walter also got me a bike at Christmas that had been sitting in a storage room for years. And he likes my manicotti and banana bread.

So, we saw Walter at the bus stop. We told him we'd gone down to see the ducks and he agreed he liked to do that often. Then we showed him the planters that we had found and he laughed, shaking his head. "You guys remind me so much of the sixties," he said. "I wish those times would come back."

In similar news, I'm looking into vermicomposting right now. That's why we grabbed the planters. We'll be growing things eventually, if all goes well. But first comes my first foray into composting. Vermicomposting is the kind that uses worms. I figure that'll work best given our limited space and kitchen waste.

We've been making some changes over the past few months toward more sustainable and less wasteful living. Nothing huge, really, just steps. And right around the time that each new change begins to feel like the norm, another step is taken. For instance, energy saving light bulbs. Used them for years, actually, though it took quite a long time for me to adjust mentally to spending that much more for light bulbs. Next came recycled toilet paper and paper towels and printer paper. Seriously, there is no reason to be using virgin wood paper products. Recycled is high quality, doesn't destroy our forests (which we NEED if we want to dampen the effects of global climate change), and yes, it's generally a bit more expensive. But not drastically so. Just stop thinking that "bargain" translates to "cheapest thing on the shelf". You can afford that extra buck or so for toilet paper. It will not break the bank. It hasn't broken ours and I'm pretty sure we're still below the poverty line, even after having left the Claretians. So if you got a full time job or two in your household, just don't even argue. Buy 7th Generation products and the like.

Grocery shopping is another thing. Only since we arrived in Hawaii have I started really re-using bags. Plastic grocery bags, cloth bags. You know what's the hardest part about that change? Getting used to bringing them. For weeks and weeks Michael and I would have to remind each other about them, and even then would forget sometimes. But now it's part of the habit... time to go shopping, grab the bags. And it counts for all shopping. When I go to the thrift store or the electronics store or wherever, I bring my own bags. If you have a car, put some bags in your glove box, because you don't always know when you'll stop and get something.

None of these are huge changes. I have a feeling that composting will also not be a huge change. Only thing is, I really want to do this in the cheapest and most sustainable way possible, which means that I will not be buying a Can-O-Worms (though I believe they're made from recycled plastic, are easy and sanitary and non-smelly, and I would recommend them to people who are not me that want to get into composting their kitchen waste). But me? I'm gonna build my composting system out of that never ending supply of roadside garbage. It's there and it's free and I already own a saw, a hammer, and nails. So I'm just gonna do it that way.

I've been looking around the neighborhood too, and even though I live in a very urban environment, there are plenty of leaves and dried grasses and such for me to gather up and use as my browns. Then I'll mix my browns up with my greens (fruit and vegetable waste, coffee grounds, tea bags minus the staples, etc.)... add worms and voila!

It's the worms that'll be the expense. The one unavoidable expense in all of this. On the mainland, you guys got red wrigglers available to you. They're the most common, I think, of composting worms. But here on the islands, well, worms just don't occur here naturally. There are a few species that have been brought here, but they're highly regulated by the Department of Agriculture. We've got a worm quarantine, see. You can only buy worms through licensed dealers. Me, I'm gonna get me a batch of "Waimanalo Blues", which are actually from India and not Waimanalo since there aren't any worms from Waimanalo. Those and Alabama Jumpers are the best composting worms available here. And there's a bit of expense to it. But only for that. And of that comes:

* reduced kitchen waste (and probably less smelly garbage given the reduction of wet stuff in the can)
* eventual compost for growing tomatoes and herbs and whatever else tickles our fancy
* worms. My very own worms.

When I was a kid I used to run rescue missions after summer thunderstorms. I'd scour the sidewalks looking for worms that had washed up onto the concrete, and I'd transfer them back to the dirt before the sun dried up the puddles and fried my little friends. I loved worms as a kid. I'm really excited about setting this up. I imagine it'll take some getting used to, but it'll be a norm for us soon enough.

(Please note that that is nowhere near all you need to know in order to compost. Google "vermicomposting" if you're interested in trying this too. Or buy a book.)

peace.

Plan B

I was starting to get pretty anxious about the timeline for my thesis. The lit review I'm working on was growing into an increasingly unmanageable beast of information. The larger it grew, the longer it took. I wanted it to be done weeks ago. Maybe I'll finish it this weekend. Maybe.

This past week was particularly bad for my anxiety. Like every week, I wanted my lit review to get finished, and despite long hours and late nights it was looking less and less likely that it would get there. And then it didn't.

Of course, you know me. Busy, anxious, my brain turned on. It's always a great time for creativity and getting things done... except that the anxiety part was getting to me. I kept thinking, 'I really, really, really want to stick to this timeline I've created for myself.' And I realized they were arbitrary deadlines, but they were MY arbitrary deadlines, damnit, and I wanted to get my stuff done by them. So when the lit review kept stretching on weeks beyond its arbitrary deadlineness, I was not happy.

I didn't get much sleep this week. I'd lay down with my brain on, thinking over all the things that weren't done that I wanted to be done and all the things I could do and options I had and deadlines that had passed and... stayed awake. It culminated Wednesday when I wound up only getting three hours of sleep because I just couldn't get my thoughts to rest. I did get a lot done that night, though, getting up every other hour to do something because I felt like I was wasting time just laying there.

On Thursday I had my classes, but most importantly, I had my weekly advisory meeting. And the good news is that Andrew, my co-advisee, has finished his thesis! I was so happy for that. That in and of itself was like a pep talk for me. It can get done. It will get finished. Happy days will come. But even better, I talked over my concerns with Cliff and Andrew about how hard I was working but still couldn't hit the deadlines I wanted to impose on myself.

So Cliff -- my brilliant, brilliant advisor -- says two things to me. First, he goes over the timeline for the rest of the semester and points out that my goals can still be met. AND THEN he says that if I don't make those goals, we'll go to Plan B. He lays out another timeline, which, honestly, is also perfectly acceptable.

Plan B, I thought. "Plan B". Plan B, Plan B, Plan B. I really liked the sound of that. "Plan B" is an option. It's what you do when Plan A doesn't work out. Plan B is just fine.

I realized at that point that I was thinking in terms of "Meeting My Deadlines or Failure To Meet My Deadlines." That's not a rational framework, and in my own defense, it wasn't even a conscious framework. My conscious framework was "I really, really, really want to make these goals." But Cliff, my impressive and insightful advisor, reframed my approach to Plan A or Plan B. And I'm sure there's a Plan C waiting in the wings if need be.

The incredible thing is that when he uttered that magic phrase "Plan B", all of my anxieties melted away. I'm no longer struggling against possible failure, and it turned out that that was all I needed. Looking at what I have left to get done, I think my Plan A is still perfectly viable. I think I can still Propose this spring, and data collect this summer. And if not, I can still probably manage to get my Masters done by summer next year, even if I go the Plan B route.

So that's my lesson for the week. Whenever possible, have a Plan B. It's not so great when failure is your option.