Yesterday got my hair dyed for the first time I'm a redhead almost now more mahogany really but managing to escape an identity crises thus far. The trip to the mall afterwards was a bit much though. I don't even know why I go to the mall by myself. I am objectively awful at shopping I have a completely lack of any eye for fashion and am easily overwhelmed by too many choices and well it's the damn mall. People-watching can be fun I notice most the boredom. The warm bodies behind the kiosks are bored so bored so desperate to straighten your hair and buff your nails and assault you with robotic helicopters. But most of all the poor bastard running the weird little train for kids. Sitting around in a conductors hat and striped t-shirt and suspenders on his iphone waiting for the one kid to come along to make him start up the whole four car contraption for a tiny brain's hopeful amusement. Fake train sounds. Headphones in all the while.
On the way out got froyo with too many toppings and ate it while reading a trashy mystery novel about a serial killer targeting stay at home moms poorly written with all the red herrings laid out nicely in a row. Later I ended up in the drive thru for Jacknthebox and wondered why I was there almost angry with the nice lady passing me a greasy bag of chicken nuggets curly fries honey mustard.
This morning I consume leftover flamin hot cheetos and greek yogurt for a breakfast I don't have the heart to throw away the sutter home bottle yet. Now to work a double then again a double.
I feel like I have never so much been an American.
I suppose this is where I put my thoughts about my life, language and writing while I try to avoid actually writing anything.
Showing posts with label consumerism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label consumerism. Show all posts
Friday, October 26, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
And I'm upgraded daily / All my wires without traces
Today I went shopping for a smartphone.
As of right now, I have a semi-dumb phone that can make all my texts and access some parody of the internet, and even once in a while I use it to make phone calls to other real people. I have no real problem with the phone; with the exception of the inevitable temper tantrums that all the machines I own seem to throw it works quite well. However, for various reasons, I decided to take the step and move into this strange handheld collective world in which everyone else seems to be cheerfully participating.
This is kind of a big deal for me, for complicated reasons of superstition and cyborg anxiety that I hope one day to explore. Suffice it to say that watching people chat not with other people through the phone but with the phone itself makes me visibly and uncontrollably nervous. (I have several friends that find it amusing to team up with their cohort Siri to exploit this tic of mine. I love my friends very dearly.) I myself have been in the past incapable of figuring out how these devilmachines function. When attempting to use a borrowed one I'm generally reduced to helpless flailing and pawing at the screen like a sad animal until the savvy owner takes pity on me and dials the phone number or what have you.
It turns out that this is a real disadvantage when trying to be a wise consumer selecting a smartphone for purchase. If I am overwhelmed by sheer panic at just the sight of any flippy animated screen with higher resolution than the outside world that may or may not been able to read (or at least infer) my thoughts, how in the devil am I supposed to qualify and evaluate the differences among these damn things? Comparing them on a website with nice side-by-side boxes of written out specs is one thing. Holding even the 3 generation old model in my had and knowing this machine is smart enough to do anything but I am too dumb to tell it how is something completely different. Why am I doing this again? Haven't I consumed enough sci-fi to realize never to volunteer for the omnipresent, omnipotent, life-easing upgrade?
[Interesting and slightly troubling sidenote: A large part of the reviews of the HTC One X, one of the phones I was considering, are these weird exultations by former iPhone users that read like escapes from bad relationships: "i love love loooove my HTC. i used to stick with iPhones because even though i was never a big fan i figured i could never get anything better but then i made the leap with this [hone and its so great! i would never even consider going back to iphone" "This phone is great. It never gives me any problems...I never even think about iPhone anymore!"]
And how exactly am I supposed to explain all this to the pleasant young man standing at my shoulder just trying to earn his commission? I'm sorry excuse me sir I'm just having a bit of existential confusion about my commitment to my cyborg identity. No no I know I'm up for an upgrade I'm good for another two years yes. Yes no I heard you about the megapixels thing but it's just is it better? Will it make me better? How much of my soul can it capture in high def? And do I have to download it or can I stream it?
This post would have had a better punchline if I were publishing it with some wry acceptance from a smartphone. But, all things considered, I made what I thought was the best decision in the situation: retreat. Live to fight another day, maybe postpone the Singularity that much longer (ha, unlikely).
[Alternate ending: I'm secretly a robot!]
Will end by reiterating my cyborg anthem, Regina Spektor's "Machine":
As of right now, I have a semi-dumb phone that can make all my texts and access some parody of the internet, and even once in a while I use it to make phone calls to other real people. I have no real problem with the phone; with the exception of the inevitable temper tantrums that all the machines I own seem to throw it works quite well. However, for various reasons, I decided to take the step and move into this strange handheld collective world in which everyone else seems to be cheerfully participating.
This is kind of a big deal for me, for complicated reasons of superstition and cyborg anxiety that I hope one day to explore. Suffice it to say that watching people chat not with other people through the phone but with the phone itself makes me visibly and uncontrollably nervous. (I have several friends that find it amusing to team up with their cohort Siri to exploit this tic of mine. I love my friends very dearly.) I myself have been in the past incapable of figuring out how these devilmachines function. When attempting to use a borrowed one I'm generally reduced to helpless flailing and pawing at the screen like a sad animal until the savvy owner takes pity on me and dials the phone number or what have you.
It turns out that this is a real disadvantage when trying to be a wise consumer selecting a smartphone for purchase. If I am overwhelmed by sheer panic at just the sight of any flippy animated screen with higher resolution than the outside world that may or may not been able to read (or at least infer) my thoughts, how in the devil am I supposed to qualify and evaluate the differences among these damn things? Comparing them on a website with nice side-by-side boxes of written out specs is one thing. Holding even the 3 generation old model in my had and knowing this machine is smart enough to do anything but I am too dumb to tell it how is something completely different. Why am I doing this again? Haven't I consumed enough sci-fi to realize never to volunteer for the omnipresent, omnipotent, life-easing upgrade?
[Interesting and slightly troubling sidenote: A large part of the reviews of the HTC One X, one of the phones I was considering, are these weird exultations by former iPhone users that read like escapes from bad relationships: "i love love loooove my HTC. i used to stick with iPhones because even though i was never a big fan i figured i could never get anything better but then i made the leap with this [hone and its so great! i would never even consider going back to iphone" "This phone is great. It never gives me any problems...I never even think about iPhone anymore!"]
And how exactly am I supposed to explain all this to the pleasant young man standing at my shoulder just trying to earn his commission? I'm sorry excuse me sir I'm just having a bit of existential confusion about my commitment to my cyborg identity. No no I know I'm up for an upgrade I'm good for another two years yes. Yes no I heard you about the megapixels thing but it's just is it better? Will it make me better? How much of my soul can it capture in high def? And do I have to download it or can I stream it?
This post would have had a better punchline if I were publishing it with some wry acceptance from a smartphone. But, all things considered, I made what I thought was the best decision in the situation: retreat. Live to fight another day, maybe postpone the Singularity that much longer (ha, unlikely).
[Alternate ending: I'm secretly a robot!]
Will end by reiterating my cyborg anthem, Regina Spektor's "Machine":
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Heil Consumerism!
I am now (almost) employed! Beating the odds!
Yeah, it's just another job as a server, and probably less lucrative than my last one at that, but startingMonday Sunday(/today), I will have (relatively) steady money coming in again, and I am really excited. Because as much as I believe that "things" don't make you a better person or define who you are, I sure do love nice things. My bank account has managed to coordinate nicely with my college career, i.e., they both ran out at the same time, so for the last little bit the budget's been tight, as in, frayed-shoestring type tight. The delightful boon of my graduation money, therefore, is going towards keeping a roof over my head, instead of towards all the fun stuff it was meant for. But as I'm writing my rent check and paying off my credit card bill, I'm also making a list of things I want to blow my money on to spoil myself once I have disposable income again.
(Hypothetical) Treat Yo Self:
Yeah, it's just another job as a server, and probably less lucrative than my last one at that, but starting
(Hypothetical) Treat Yo Self:
-Massage (+ Pedicure. Also probably manicure)
![]() |
| I am in love with this amazingly creepy stock image. |
I hurt. And I am weary. Admittedly, I haven't been doing that much of physical activity in the last few days (hey, I've been sick), but immediately before that I was doing really well with the whole fitness and staying active thing, and before that I was hauling my flesh bag around a massive campus for a few years. Also, something weird has been going on with my lower back lately. Plus, I promised my feet a pedicure after Italy. Turns out I'm a liar (also I don't really talk to my feet). Time to fix that.
-Shoes
I need. More. Shoes.
![]() |
| Ok, not that many. |
I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a shoe fanatic. Nor do I enjoy in any way shopping for shoes. In fact, nothing makes me more irritable more quickly. But I am in dire need of a small but reliable assortment of practical and nice-looking footwear. I am a grown-ass woman now, and I need me some heels (tiny ones, I have god-awful balance). And I would kill (or at least put down a chunk of change) for some nice Dr. Martens.
-Yoga Pants
So I've been doing the Yogalates thing. Turns out plankjacks and one-armed frog push-ups in a heated (!) room make you sweat a lot. I mean a lot. And it's so much worse if you don't have some semblance of "correct" exercise clothing, which, being woefully underequipped for any fit lifestyle, I do not. And while I would also like some nice swanky exercise shorts and sports tops, yoga pants are exceedingly comfy. And they have the wonderful tendency to boost a lady's opinion of her own derriere.
I was thinking something more whimsical than black mold, maybe a map of the London Underground? While we're at it, I'd like a new bathmat and set of nice fluffy towels in brick-red. Oh hell, just redo the whole room.
-Nice Lingerie
While on the subject of clothing-type-things, I would like to yearn for some new undergarments. And by "nice lingerie" I do not mean "slutty" or "uncomfortable ribbons and lace." I have in mind something that is comfortable but that I know still looks cute even under probably grungy clothing. And maybe even--but let's not get too crazy here--matching. I like to keep in mind a piece of family wisdom...the wording is variable, but it has something to do with always wearing presentable underwear in case you get hit by a car. It made sense at the time. Anyway, it's pretty embarrassing to get caught out looking like a pathetic orphan-child with raggedy undies when trying on clothes with friends or whatever. I am a presentable lady. Or something.
-New Shower Curtain
The shower curtain currently hanging in my bathroom is at this point probably more mildew-cleaning spray than the original PVC.
![]() |
| The mildew's winning. |
-----------------------------------
OKAY, I'm getting slightly horrified/disgusted at my perky justifications for why I need to consume new, ever more expensive "better" products. (That, however, does not negate my desire for the items on the above list. I do love my shiny things.) I have always been inclined to perpetually make lists, and it is ever so delightful when the items on it are concrete and can oh-so-easily be added to Amazon. However, I am less so in the habit of showing people those lists, as that tends to project less-than-desirable character traits around the 14th "I WANT THIS" list. (Exception: If I think the audience is actually going to get me the products on said list. My letters to Santa were brusque and itemized.) So, ending this. And would like to note that my attempt to fool around with free stock images was less than stellar, but hilarious for me. Really the choices are abominable, and I am lazy.
Also, just made another submission to another journal, so already this summer has been more productive than I could (based on past summers) reasonably expect! Now I can go back to reading Anna Karenina, which is the best procrastination strategy ever. "How could I be doing something irresponsible? I'm reading Tolstoy."
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