I've never been much of a suitor for the New Year's Resolutions. There was, however, a period in my awkward teenage years where I would announce to the universe that I was setting out to find a boyfriend and I meant it. I would pull out an unblemished note-card, sketch out my commitment to the plan, and seal it in an envelope with both great certainty and sleuth-like security. The unmarked envelope would find a nice home in my very adult-like file cabinet for many months. Unashamed, I would talk aloud to myself for a series of minutes, knowing that success was in my future - I could just feel it! This from the same young girl who had to publicly announce each night that she did believe in extraterrestrial life, as a prophylactic to any alien encounters that may arise in the dark hours of the wee morning.
Thank goodness the teenage era is quiescent. The adult awkward years are much more fulfilling now that most parts of my brain have finished their respective developments. As I have found other ritualistic ways to procure of boyfriend, I now look to other areas of my pie-chart to attack with New Year's resolutions. What's on board for 2008? A simple quest to buy nothing new.
The History:
When still very certain of my nightly rendezvous with ET and his cronies, I would take to a full-body search the morning after looking for a trademark of their visit. I do that these days, too, only I am on the lookout for the marks of The Retail Invasion instead of a three-prong insignia from the Reptoids. I swear, one of these mornings I will awaken to Banana Republic tattooed on my upper-lip. When we sleep, when we eat, even when we are meditating or trying to find spiritual solace, The Retail Invasion happens. There are these unbreakable chains between us and the stuff we consume. A lot of the pressure is due to a phenomenon called planned obsolescence. Layman's translation: "I (The Retail Invasion) am going to tell you that product you have right there in your hands, you know that one you just bought, is about to be outdated, out-styled, and ousted for this new product (aka the same thing only with a different color). You don't want to have that old, tired thing, do ya? Come, buy and be satisfied". Well, I have, sans the satisfaction. And now I want out. [cue music] So this year I am planning on reducing my tendency and fatal attraction to buy things that I do not really need. It is the year of obsolescence management.
It is much deeper than the unholy domination that The Retail Invasion has on us - it is the Corporatocracy , too. Let us not forget, as well, that we live on a globe where the rich and poor are separated economically by a crater bigger than the Milky Way. Something is lost in those shopping bags that should be put towards relationship-building with real people, with real lives and unsolvable predicaments that could stand a little more human tenderness and less salve of materialism. This effort for me is a lesson in economics reform. I know things can be better, my body yearns for it, but I am not sure how this can be done.
The Rules:
Nothing new with the exception of:
- food
- medicines
- necessary toiletries
- needed car maintenance
Further clarification with needed car maintenance: Of course I would like to be able to go motor-less for all of Oh-eight but that is a reality I fear unapproachable given my current location. Instead, I must continue my close relationship with the Green Bean, my automobile. It is necessary for her to have her fluids changed regularly, along with rotating her tires. I see this as preventative care and my ticket for deeper obsolescence management, as I will be able to keep her in business longer.
I am keeping this blog as a way to chronicle the journey. It will not be an easy one. But I have grand hope for the project and I feel committed to reforming how I see worth in my human self.
