United We Mope

The preacher today quoted a truism from an anonymous source: “The world can be divided into two kinds of people -- those who walk into a crowded room and say, ‘Hey! I’m here!’ and those who walk in and say, ‘Ah! There you are!’”

Most of the time, I’m Type 1. Why else would I have a blog?

But I have many lovely friends and relatives who are Type 2. Chances are, you’re one of these people. To you, I want to say: thanks for humoring me.

In an effort to be more “room-conscious,” I’ll offer two pieces from today’s New York Times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/04/business/worldbusiness/04energy.html?ex=1118116800&en=d804324a592208ad&ei=5070

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/06/05/arts/music/05pare.html?pagewanted=2&ei=5070&en=566b6d9fcfff98c6&ex=1118116800

The first is “Japan Squeezes to Get the Most Out of Costly Fuel.” The second is “The Case Against Coldplay.” Japan and Chris Martin? Not as harmonious as Sonny and Cher or the Nelson twins, but let me explain.

While we Americans bemoan higher gas prices, Japan has introduced a campaign urging its citizens to buy hybrid and replace energy-guzzling appliances. By 2012, the country hopes to reduce global warming-risky emissions to 6 percent below the 1990 level. The article cites a Japanese environmental planner who says, “The honest feeling of the Japanese people is, ‘How can we do more?’”

Hard to imagine Americans adopting the same attitude. Japan was one of the host nations for the Kyoto Protocol on curbing global warming. The U.S. wasn’t in attendance.

Maybe Bush was at home listening to Coldplay. Okay, okay -- it’s a British band. But it’s self-piteous sentiment sounds American to me, and to NYT writer Jon Pareles, too.

In his article, Pareles takes Martin et. al. to task for “wallowing happily in their unhappiness.” Listing a few particularly moody, “poor me” Coldplay lyrics, Paredes says, “When he moans his verses, Mr. Martin can sound so sorry for himself that there's hardly room to sympathize for him.”

One of my nearest, dearest friends is a Coldplay fan, and she would probably remind me of my tendency to play Radiohead’s “Creep” on repeat during my lunch hour. “I’m a creep. / I’m a weirdo. / What the hell am I doing here? / I don’t belong here.” Not exactly self/world-affirming.

But I think Paredes has a point. Instead of slapping on our “God Bless America” bumper stickers and embracing our God-given right to unlimited whining, maybe we should get up and do something. And by “do something,” I don’t mean sacrifice post-pubescent American boys for foreign oil. We have our own “weapon of mass destruction” -- it’s called the SUV.

At this point in my diatribe, Danny M. would announce “Preach!” Danny was a preacher’s son whom I taught a couple of years ago. “Preach!” was his verbal contribution to any sort of soap boxing. Me: “You can do better than these report-card grades. If you don‘t have a goal, you‘re reaching for nothing.” Danny: “Preach!”

I’ll stop preaching. Thanks again for being in the room with me, even when I pretend I’m at its center.