by Kelli Ford

Couches, Car Insurance, and Volunteerism

I've spent the better part of my years -- okay, so the years aren't that numerous to date -- lookin' out for number one. You know, "What am I going to do when I reach that proverbial age that shoves me into the realm of 'grown up' responsibility?" (More commonly, "What can I do that is fun today?") "How do I pay for college, and why should I even spend my time and borrowed money at such an institution? Will I ever be able to pay for my own car insurance? What happens when my parents can't take care of themselves anymore -- can they rely on me as I have them?"

Though these were things I wondered, I rarely took an active role in finding creative and worthwhile answers to these self-perpetuating questions. It was beginning to look like I had destined myself into the Land of Eternal Slack. Self-centered questions, however, weren't the only ones I asked myself as I sat clothed in last night's bed attire on my slouch couch with Regis and Cathy Lee chattering away -- tucks, plucks, heavy foundation cream and all staring at me. (Slack or not, I was a somewhat early riser and had only one channel to choose from.) No, other little worry splinters dug under my skin. Things like: What happens when the landfills fill -- will the countryside look like most cities and the floor- board of my car, filled with Burger King wrappers, soda can syrup, and cigarette boxes? What if everyone drives as much as I do? And what about those poor cows in the feedlots awaiting some fast food freezer? Why are there still so many hate crimes? And how could I be a lazy college student watching Regis and Cathy Lee at 9:15 on a Tuesday when babies and grandmas were wet, hot, cold, thirsty, and hungry?

Thoughts. All just thoughts of a self-diagnosed almost -- Eternal Slack. But what separates those of us who have good hearts and intentions from the other people who have the same but get off of the couch and away from these vices of entertainment and DO -- the people who perpetuate their own existence by doing so for their community and world -- the carers and the doers, the movers and shakers?

I left college because I found no meaning there (or money), much less in the world at large. I mean, starving babies, the hole in the ozone, hate crimes, and me and Reg' and Cathy? It just didn't add up. Now that I spend more time away from my couch and can't tell you what happens on The Simpsons rerun every single night, I am beginning to realize that I never found a meaning because I never went out and made one up for myself, never addressed one or even all of my concerns and decided to work to change them.

I recently read an article in Rolling Stone about David Chain, a young hippie from Texas who found his meaning and his death saving Redwood trees in California. Work didn't make sense. College didn't. Religion didn't. He put himself in a position to activate change saving one tree at a time until a logger dropped one on his head.

Not that you have to drop your life and friends and join a hard-core environmental organization to change things. One of my roommates, a full-time philosophy student and waitress, volunteers two evenings a week with an organization that can't be mentioned due to legal reasons. I asked her why and how she made the time and energy.

"The American capitalistic society forces people to do things for money. But making money isn't fulfilling. To me, going to college isn't really fulfilling either. People's roles in our society are too specific.

I mean, if what you have to do is go to college and be a waitress, what do you really get from that? I mean you don't know if your education is even going to be worthwhile, and serving yuppies..." her voice trails off in obvious distaste. "[Volunteering] is kind of a selfish thing. You do feel that you get something out of it -- not money, better than money. It's very personal," she says when I ask her why she works for her cause. "I wouldn't just randomly volunteer for things. I think people just do it to have something real going on."

I suppose one reason we have such a trashed out environment and so much hopelessness is because so many of us don't have anything real going on other than paying our insurance (or thinking about how we someday can) or feeding ourselves and our families. Not many people do anything extra, and some really don't have the capacity. Most do. It will certainly take more than paying rent to help our society survive very far into the much anticipated (or dreaded) new millennium (I had to throw at least one millennium reference in here somewhere).

I am now in my second year as a member of Americorps, a program in the National Service Corporation, and am considered a full-time volunteer.

Although it looks great on a resume (that's self-perpetuation at work), I don't really consider myself a volunteer. Sure, I put in 8 1/2 hour days for a year, but I get a stipend and a scholarship in return. I am now much more aware, at least, of volunteers and the countless opportunities to get involved, not to mention the little things you can do on your own like picking up a beer can some jerk left at the park, putting your cigarette butt in the ashtray, or giving your old clothes to someone who needs them instead of selling them in a garage sale. Turning off the TV is a really good start, too.

So, am I stuck in Eternal Slackdom? Let's hope not, for all of our sake. For we are on the verge of a new era (sorry, there's that millennium thing again), and it's time to turn those good intentions into deeds.

Thoughts. All just thoughts.