Confidentiality

There is a value among people such as close friends and psychiatrists where one believes and practices the art of keep to oneself what was told to them in confidence. But there is a legal clause that says there are something that may she shared in confidence that one would be required to report to their supervisors and legal authorities-- this clause breaks confidentiality and all hell may break loose at any time. For this reason there are some deep dark secrets that individuals keep to themselves all their life for fear of hell breaking loose in their lives.

While a close personal friend may not report anything, there is always the fear that someone else may over hear, and then proceed to the authorities on the matter. This could cause even more hell then the previous hypothetical situation.

The reason I am pondering these matters is because of a few friend I have that tend to share things with me in confidence. Both of which I'm sure need professional help. Both of which I believe fear professional help. Not because of scary medications that may be prescribed to them, but because of the legal action they fear.

I believe is it a pity and a scandal that one cannot receive professional help for certain matters with out fearing some degree of life altering legal action. while the measure of legal action may vary or be quite limited for these individuals there is also the chance that such action may be abundant and life altering. And while some altering would be beneficial to these individuals, I fear the same altering may cause these individuals additional pain and stress, such to condition them never to trust their confidence to professional help ever again. This is a serious problem, to which there seems to be no solution at this time.

Water water everywhere, but not a drop to drink!

You have heard that it was said, 'out of sight, out of mind.' And I tell you this, it is sometimes true. I generally don't think about... hamsters. But my cousin sent one of those singing birthday cards with the hamster dance, and a picture of a dancing hamster. Now I can't stop thinking about hamsters.
When I'm in the comfort of my own hometown I'm not that concerned with the task of finding myself a man. Those just don't seem necessary at all. But just as soon as I set foot on the Harding University campus hand-holding couples can be spotted here and there and everywhere. It is then that I become consumed with this thirst for a hand of my own. A man to open the door. A shoulder to land on when I'm sad, mad, or just tired.
The thing is... for one, I don't know how to claim a man for my own, and for seconds... why won't a guy just claim me? I mean... am I not friendly to my guy friends... or is friend dating frowned upon? I mean I would rather be friends with a guy first so I know he's not insane and that I can get along with him in a group setting and such. That can't be a bad thing.
And with all these guys running around for that past three years... that just sad and pathetic and I shan't go into that.
But seriously... water water everywhere, but not a drop to drink!

Saving the Bell

We had an entertaining day at our local Arby's restaurant this afternoon. As a couple of young guys were leaving they each rang the "Ring if your service was satisfactory" bell but as the second guy went to ring the bell it came detached! The young man immediately started scrambling around to fix the bell, but the piece that needed to screw onto the top of the bell rolled away and fell into the trash! The guy began to blush and called his friend back into the store. They dug threw the garbage, found the piece and put the bell back together again! Beat red and laughing at himself the young man promptly left in a mix of shame and amusement.

It's good to be able to laugh at ourselves in our trivial humiliation. It's even better when we take responsibility for the things that just happen to fall apart the moment we touch them. It would not have been amusing if the boys had left the bell in pieces, it would have shown them to be selfish and inconsiderate.

My plan to take over the mess!

Because my many hints... complaints... suggestions... please... and leading by example have left my house for the most part as dirty and cluttered as I found it. And because I estimate (and my friends all agree) that the house is likely to look worse when I get home from college I have devised a plan to have mother clean the house.
But how does this plan work?
Well. I hope!
I've been reading Peter Walsh's It's All Too Much, and much of what he says confirms my beliefs and suspicions and expectations for the house. And so I have written up a plan of action! I have put together a notebook for my mother with instruction and a plan to follow for cleaning the house. She is to complete one task every weekday and this way the house should be spic-and-span in just twelve weeks!

Ah... but how can we expect my mother to stick to a cleaning schedule for more then the fraction of a second it will take her to reject the whole idea all together?
well... I've written a litter. Oh it's a nice letter. Sort of a formal letter even. But if it doesn't do the trick then I can always expose her to my blog... Or invite Peter Walsh to dinner *snicker*

But I did explain to her in the letter what I would be to emotional to express properly in a verbal way. That I believe a clean house would be healthier and happier for the whole family... and it also leaves out any bitterness or anger issues I always seem to develop when I think about the house. So maybe she'll respond to it well. I suppose that I'll give it and the plan to her this week end, and offer to help her get started. But I prefer to clean alone, and I figure she works the same way. It's just easier to focus when you are the only one whose activities you have to monitor, and respond to, and communicate with etc.

It's All Too Much!!!

It's all too much. A book by Peter Walsh. By no means do I expect a perfect house. A perfect house could only be kept by perfect people and we are not perfect. But I do have standards and I want the home I live in to meet those standards. I deserve that right? I think we all do.
My sister came in the living room the other day to complain that she did not have room in the bedroom to play with her Barbies. I complain a lot about the house I live in. So I want to do something about it. I want to trade the stress and embarrassment for relaxation and pride. I am proud of the little that I've done. And for a while it felt a world better. But as I look around now and see the evidence to prove that I am not the only one living here... I want to yell and scream and express my anger. The anger that comes with feeling like my family (mother in particular) does not care. Does not care that the whole house is a mess. Does not care that the mess is stressful to me, and probably to everyone else in the house as well. Does not care that I am willing to put in some effort on cleaning. Does not care that as much effort as I may try to put into the house, I simply cannot clean up someone else's mess. I don't know what to keep, throw out, give away, or store. But I firmly believe that it has to be done. Something has to be done because no body can live in this house. If action isn't taken soon, living here will be no better then living in the streets. The house itself is falling down around all the clutter. Fat chance fixing the roof when you can't even clear off your kitchen table.

In the book Peter asks us to envision our ideal life. Our realistic ideal life. I picture a living room where there is seating for the whole family to sit down together for a family movie. I picture a wide clear space for the sake of cleanliness. I picture a dust-free shelf full of dust-free books and movies. I picture a dining room table, chairs, dishes, food. And I picture it as functional and eatable. I picture having a place to unpack when I get home from college for the summer/winter break. I picture a clear stove where I can scramble eggs. I picture the elimination of a lot of these storage devises we have that just add to the mass of things we don't need... I guess I can't say we don't use them, but if we didn't have all the stuff we don't need, then we wouldn't have a use for the carts and shelves and end tables, then we could get rid of those and suddenly we could have space!

But before any of that can happen I need the cooperation of my family. No one seems to want to help. Who would want to do extra work voluntarily? But who would want to live in this house voluntarily? I wouldn't live in this house if you paid me... except that I have no other place to go, and no money to go there. I'll settle for the dorm. But then I have to come home in the winter. I always dread coming home. And it's not that I don't love or miss my family. The idea of going home is appealing to me... that would be if I had a home to go to. Because I certainly do not consider this storage facility/dump to be a home. The idea of going home to this storage facility/dump every break is appalling to me.

According to Peter cluttered houses are not uncommon. People all over the nation have more then they can use. Have more then they can fit into their homes in a reasonable orderly fashion. But I wonder about the state of the actual house. Do all these other people live with this much dust and mold? what about the ceiling falling down in the porch which is our main entrance? What about the peeling paint? The ants? The rotting floorboards? The rocking toilet?

It's not the clutter alone that is upsetting to me. It's the whole house. I can't stand living in this house. This house upsets me every day. It's always a lingering problem in my life. It's always the unsettling factor when everything else seems to be looking up. Even when I'm away at college I think about how messy the house is, how much work I'm going to have to do when I get home. How disappointed I'll be when I don't get as much as I'd like done by the end of my summer.

I have rebuilt this house a hundred times on The Sims and imagined it to be clean, orderly, and most importantly stable. Stable as in not falling down around me. The first time I made this house in The Sims it really surprised me how... beautiful the house was. How attractive and cozy it seemed. I so I've made it over and over to recapture that feeling... rearranging the furniture, doing something slightly different each time. And every time I finish I think "If only."

A day in the life of me

On a recent trip to Appleton I, with my parents and eight year old sister, visited the mall. Big. Bright. Loud. And stores. Lots of stores. We stopped at Pay-Less, I wanted to see what the seasons styles would be. And I learned that my sister is into labels. Who would have guessed! It was Hannah Montana and Wizards of Waverly Place. But the beautiful little flat (lacking Disney Chanel characters) held no interest to her. None at all! But of course all I could think was, 'Oh please, please, please, please PLEASE do NOT let her buy anything. ANYTHING!' And good news, nothing was bought. (Yay!)
Then we ate at Noodles & Co. It was great.
After that we went to Wal-mart. Dessert was bought. Toilet paper, paper towels, Yoo-hoo, etc. And the whole time my sister was all into this 'game' where we had magic powers and could cast spells and stuff. Fun, fun, fun... And then we went home. My sister played some Sims and went to bed. I played some Sims and worked on cleaning!
Yep, I did some house work today.
I organized the home video shelves.... stacking movies strategically so that of the two shelves that have been overflowing, one now contains the the stray videos that were on top of the TV, AND I have and empty shelf to fill with.... more movies I guess, I know we have some more around here somewhere. I also stuffed some stray toys into some old Kleenex boxes and while the living room is still a horrible mess, it at least looks ever so slightly less horrible.
Oh yes! And I also got my mom to clean out the fridge... it was very sneaky on my part. Actually I was planing to do it myself, but when my mother saw me sneaking into the kitchen with a trash bag she got spooked thinking I might throw out something that was still edible... I probably would have. But the point is: I stood there with the bag while she filled it up. I'm sure she felt pretty good about it even though she didn't clean the door out. And Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (A juice drink bottle with Rudy's head as the top) is still in there... My sister got him when she was about three.... I guess it gets washed and reused or something... but it's in the way back and I really want to toss it.

Good Morning! I spent the majority of the night cleaning in the living room. Then I spent the wee hours of the morning watching the rest of Sex and the City season three. My sister woke up and I showed her my proud work in the living room, I had stacked found quarters and pennies on the coffee table, I asked her if that was my pay for cleaning, and she reluctantly said "fine" then she said all smug like "It doesn't matter anyway I still have more money then you." So I asked her, "Did you take all my money out of my wallet?" And she said yes. So I told her to get it for me, and Mother Dear came in. She knew that I was missing some money because she had taken me through the drive threw only to discover that she had to pay because my loot was mysteriously gone. Not so mysteriously, I had I pretty good idea where it was. But when Mother Dear questioned the little squirt about her sisters money she claimed to have no idea. So now, faced with the truth, she hands over the dough while Mother Dear hands out the punishment. Is it 'no TV for a week'? No Nintendo maybe? no.... nothing. "what is my punishment" asked the little sister, and what is the answer to her question? "I don't have to tell you." And Mother Dear walks away to, possibly, forget that the thief got away in the rush of the morning.

And so I lived for 24 hours. Adventure, fashion, and crime.

Strawberries, yard sales, dust-bunnies, and I still haven't lost the will to clean.

I feel sort of sick.
We had a yard sale to day. Big step towards a cleaner house! except that we possibly have more now.
I wasn't here, I was out at Strawberry Fest with my girlfriends. But legend has it that some other family we know had a yard sale as well, and when they got done they 'donated' all their leftover rejects to us. Like we need anything.
In the loving words of Rory Gilmore, "The whole point of this rummage sale is to get rid of your crap, not trade it in for new crap!"
And of course my little sister could not bare to part with some of my stuff, she paid for it... but I don't really care about the money. I care. I'll probably use it for food. The point is that the elimination of stuff didn't happen the way I was hoping. I now own less. But the same amount (if not more) remains in my house. And while there is a sort-of-clean spot in my living room now, the whole house is still a disaster. I'll be working on that.
I'll be working on cleaning the house. Like the day I threw out an old bag of potato chips, the bag said "Best by October 2007" it's now June 2009... I don't think anybody was planning on eating those. And the day after that I folded all the paper McDonald's take out bags that were piled almost to the ceiling on the kitchen table.
I still have to sort out the cereal, we have an old collection that can probably be fed to the birds... or used as wood in a camp fire. I still have to figure out a way to put things away. I need to do laundry, and the list goes on and on.
But most days, I look at the mess and it just takes all my energy away. I want to at the least get mine and my sister's room cleaned up. And the living room, and the kitchen. I could care less about my parents room. I would like to clean up the "dining" room, but I feel that may be impossible... unless my mom someday becomes a sane human and get rid of old junk no one in the world needs. The basement is a lost cause... at leas as long this family lives here.
I just don't see why we need stuff... like dishes we never use, look at, or enjoy in any way. Like stacks of mail. Like old school projects. Like shelves full of books and movies.
I don't have a problem with book or movie collection... but when they eat your house it's time to clean up.
I'm always scared that when I'm cleaning I'll fall into the mess and no one will ever find me again. Or mobs of scary spiders will crawl out of dusty boxes and drink my blood. Or one of these days the dust will trigger such severe allergies that that my head will just explode.
Anything is possible right?
Well maybe good fortune will be with me and we'll have a glean house by the end of the summer... that would be great because I'm just itching to know why my house actually looks like on the inside. I mean I wonder, do we have floors? Or do the piles just go for eternity? And what color is the carpet, if we have carpet?
I would really like to know.

Child Rearing

I was thinking about child rearing practices. I was out with some friends today, and one of the girls was talking about 'redirecting' children at her daycare job. Punishment is forbidden. Now I don't know about you, but when I was a kid I got punished when I misbehaved. It didn't matter if I was at home, camp, or in the care of relative. There were always consequences for my actions. My dad gave me a spanking. My aunt sent me to the corner. My counselors at camp took away canteen privileges. Not to say that I was a horrible little child who got in trouble everywhere she went. But kids will be kids, and unless there is a punishment system they will not learn how to behave like a respectable member of society. When I child is told 'no, you can't do that' they don't really understand what it means. They don't know why it's wrong, and they don't understand what it means when something is wrong... until they are taught. When my little sister was three or four I was watching her while our parents went to get something to eat. She decided that she wanted to throw toys around in a reckless manner, when I told her not to do that she got mad, she screamed, she kicked, and she didn't stop. I wasn't going to let her act this way. I picked her up and sat her down on a chair and told her she must stay there until she was ready to act nice. She kept screaming. So I asked her why she was sad. She answered saying that I wouldn't let her play with her toys. I told her that she wasn't playing nice and it made me sad so I had to make her sit in the chair. When she heard that her behavior made me sad she was really sorry and sat in the chair till she was calm. It was only a couple of minutes and then she was ready to play nice. And we were both happy and in good moods by the time the parents got home with the food. Children understand feelings, they have them too. So telling them 'no' without any reason doesn't work.
If a child doesn't understand why he or she isn't allowed to do something, they will probably do it anyway. If a child is used to getting everything they want ... then they are spoiled. Spoiled people are not considerate of others. Spoiled people have a hard time sharing. Spoiled people are selfish. Spoiled selfish people play games with their relationships. Spoiled people just aren't fun to hang out with.
So "redirecting" "punishment"?
I think both are good things. When a child is 'redirected' I guess that would be telling them why they should or shouldn't be doing something. But then if they resist that, then they might need a firmer hand, punishment.

University Girl

I was just thinking about how much summer there is left to enjoy this year... not enough. Sooner then you can say 'Yale' the school year will be back. Well it would be 'Harding' for me, 'Eau Claire' for some, and various other colleges and universities for others. Point being, summer always ends just as it begins. Before you know it you'll be hitting the books again, and I know who I'll being looking up to during those late nights of hard core cramming. Rory Gilmore.
Rory is the kind of person that can get straight As, and look amazing at the same time. She is incredibly focused on her school career and what she wants to do with her life. Kind of the opposite of how I am. But exactly how I wish I were. I want to sit at a desk for three hours breaking only rehydrate periodically. I want to sit down with a text book at breakfast. I want to be so involved with my studies that I can barely get out of the dorm until the weekend. I want to be on top of it, just like Rory. After all, isn't that what college is for?
It seems so silly to me now, that social life is such a promoted part of my school. Join a social club! Be a part of Spring Sing! Hang out with friends in the Student Center! It's all just fun and games until you fail a class.
But most people aren't that interested in study groups... they always want a break from school, not to go do more school when the school day is over! But I guess that's what you really have to do... And all that other stuff is nice if you really have the time. But I want to break the habit of making time, of putting off homework for my social life. I know that won't help me get a boyfriend or anything... but like I said in my last blog, guys are not my focus in life. Not yet anyway.

When I Grow Up

When ever I am asked the question, and whenever I think about the future and what I want to do when I grow up there are several things that sometimes come to mind. But I've realized that there is one thing that always comes to mind. One person actually, and so I've decided that when I grow up I would like to be Lorelai Gilmore. OK, so I don't want to BE HER... it's too late for that now because Lorelai gets pregnant at age sixteen.

What I love so much about Lorelai Gilmore is that she is a strong and independent woman who just lets her personality be her. And I can pretty much picture myself in her shoes. I would just have to start working as a maid in a country inn, work my way up to manager while taking business classes at a small local collage, and then start my own inn from the ground up with my best friend.

I mean that would be a lot of fun, and something I can see myself doing. Relationships are not the focus of my being, and honestly I don't want them to be. Guys, cool. Dating, cool. Being obsessed, possessed, and in the hands of someone else? Not so cool.

Although she is a fictional character, Lorelai is one of the strongest women I have ever known. She had a daughter at sixteen, accepting no help from anyone. She raised Rory all on her own while working her way to 'super star' of the bed and breakfast world. And while she didn't have the best luck, or the wisest choices with relationships, she still kept on living her life the best that she could. And I admire her ability to wear whatever she thought looked cute without the fear of being judged for it. And as much as she doesn't get along with her mother, you can tell that they still really love each other. After all, how can you not love Lorelai? She's funny, smart, quirky, independent, and absolutely sensational in almost every way.

The Death Trap

A stack of books.

A pile of clothes.

Your 2ed grader's art project.

Wooden scraps from a dinosaur puzzle/model.

A box of small toys.

A lap desk.

A box of crayons.

A table cloth.

A stacking paper/folder organizer.

An empty plastic bag.

These are all things normal people do not leave piled up on their living room couch. These are also all things that I have just noted to be on my family's living room couch. I would fix this problem in a heartbeat. The hard part is: this stuff doesn't belong to me. I'll totally toss the wooden scraps the next time I head to the kitchen. But the rest of it... Tell me what I could do with it. It's not mine to get rid of. And quite literally there is no place for me to move it to. I've don't what I could with my own stuff, and I have a few more things to go through, but when I'm done with my stuff... will I really be able to do anything about the rest of the house? My big goal this summer is to try. So far I haven't done much. Can ya blame me? It's depressing just being in this house, so it's that much easier to ignore it and spend time on the Internet, blogging, socializing, and making planes to get out of the house with my friends. But I wonder how this house got so bad in the first place? It's always ALWAYS been cluttered. But we used to be able to spread out on the living room floor and play with toys.

All the room we have in the living room now is two chairs and... Nope that's it. You can watch TV, or play the Gamecube. If you want to stretch out and relax, go find a bed... it's not that easy to find one under all the clutter. OK, so not finding a bed may be a tiny bit of an exaggeration... maybe.

What kills me more then the mess is the fact that I just can't enjoy my house. As you can see in my photograph there is but a little path leading from one room to the next. This photo was actually taken about a year ago when my roommate was up for a week long visit. This was just a day when we didn't have much to do, and obsessed over the house for entertainment. Entertainment has never been more depressing. The mess is not limited to the living room. The clutter has spread like a disease to the rest of the house. The bathroom is probably the safest place at this point. But what really makes me go mad is the way the kitchen is so... look for yourself. No one has eaten at that table in years. And the refrigerator really shouldn't be in that corner. We got a new fridge when we got sick of the antique one. The old one had been under the cupboards, (I'll show you a photo of those cupboards later) but the new fridge was too tall. We had planes to butcher the cupboard to make the fridge fit... it would be OK, the top of the fridge would be a stand-in for the lost shelf space. Turns out they've settled for leaving the fridge in the breakfast-nook, shoved the table into the corner and ... let it clutter. Are you depressed yet? Well we have a place to store the ice cream and the left-overs. But where to we heat up our food? You probably can't see the microwave in the photograph... it's hidden under a lot of paper and crap, so there really is no way to get to it... and even if you moved all that junk you still wouldn't be able to plug the darn thing in. So what about the stove. Well I should really take a new photo of the stove, because the one I have here looks way better the what's in the kitchen now. The great thing about this photograph is that you can actually tell that it is a stove. Now... Well you can't anymore. And as you can see, no body's getting into those bottom drawers any time soon. You know, it really sucks not being able to cook anything. That stove was going to be my baby. I was going to learn to cook. I was the one who picked out the stove and convinced my mother it would be an easy one to clean. BACH! Like anyone in this house cares if it's clean. Nobody even bothers to put their crap away anymore! Like I said before, none of this stuff is mine. Oh, except for the stove! But I'm trying to build up the mental capacity to just start cleaning. I need to not care if my mother gets mad at me for tossing what normal people call trash. Like those cardboard cup holders you get at fast food joints. Yeah, she would use them to organize those little salt and pepper packets that also came from the fast food joints. I know she owns shakers, I've seen them, they are cute little chefs. Does she use those? No! Now here's the photograph of the cupboards the old refrigerator was located under. I know you've just been biting your nails in anticipation for this. Now this photo only shows the two cupboards that the doors got taken off of, there are about three more to the right, all of them just as packed as these two. Now we only have half that amount of cereal bowls, but there still isn't room to wash AND put away the rest of the dirty dishes, so those usually just sit in the sink. And those boxes of cookies and crackers and such... I know it would be really scary if I told you they were still there. Luckily they are gone. In their place... nothing eatable. Oh well. There is a sort of cart thing filled with snacks... it's in the kitchen, in front of the basement door. Sound so incredibly safe, right? I know, I worry about that too. But at least I can enjoy a lovely view of... stuff in front of the window. *sigh* Well... at least I can let my friends in through the front door right? OK, never mind. You can't even tell there IS a front door in this picture... and even if those curtains weren't there, there would be a pile off stuff hiding the door anyway.

Well, I'm sure you can see the size of the job that is cleaning my house. And you haven't even seen the scary photographs!

So Vain?

"You look like a respectable member of society."
That's what Clinton told one woman on an episode of What NOT to Wear. And right away I thought about all the people who find fashion so... vain. So... unnecessary.
"You look like a respectable member of society."
You know those people you see, they wear cheap polyester sweatshirts with stains, holy jeans, and dirty sandals. They small like cigarette smoke and beer. Do you respect them? Do they seem trustworthy to you?
What do you think of people who put no time or energy into their appearance? I'm sure you don't admire their style. They may be perfectly nice, trustworthy people. But they aren't going to be an employers first choice next to an educated well groomed, well dressed individual.
Appearance is important. Maybe not as improtant as education or morals and values. But if appearance isn't part of your values then you're going to miss out on a lot.
Valueing fashion and appearance doesn't mean you have to spend fivethousand dollars on clothes every season. It just means you're not going to wear cutoff shorts, a tiedyed t-shirt, and cowboy boots to... anything ever. Unless you plan on going to a costume party as Lorelai Gilmore.

Good taste is essential. It's not vanity. It just means you care about yourself. It means that you care what people think, not because you want everyone to love you, you know that's not possible. But you give yourself the oppertunity to go through live as a respectible member of society. When you don't put any thought into your outfit you rob yourself of the respect you deserve, you make it harder for people to look past your clothes (the first thing they know about you is how you dress) And if you don't CARE. Well... we all know that people who don't care are not good people to be around. Sure fashion take time, money, and energy. But if you don't have the time, money, or energy to dress yourself well, then you must not have the time, money, or energy for anything (or anyone) else in your life.
Just a thought to make you think twice before you get dressed tomorrow morning.

Small Cheese, Big Apple

It all started with a movie.

One line from the movie to be exact.

"It's like net-flix for purses."

Sex and the City brought to my attention the fact that I might not have to be Carrie Bradshaw to enjoy the big labels every girl dreams of. I decided to make use of Google once more.

[Bag, borrow, or steel]

And behold, net-flix for purses does not just rent out bags, but accessories as well. And then the day-dream started.

I saw myself in NYC with the PRADA small rose satchel. I saw myself with Sara Jessica Parker's haircut. I saw myself seated at a club, sipping cosmos with my best girlfriends.

How much I could just see myself enjoying fashion, friends, and Friday nights. I imagine the best part would be feeling free. Knowing that I could just put on something nice, grab my bag, and go enjoy the city. Coffee. Store after store. Yellow cabs. Crowds. People whistling or throwing a hand up to hail a cab. Go anywhere, anytime. Freedom to meet people. Freedom to get lost and discover new things. Freedom to own and show off expensive clothes, shoes, bags, sunglasses etc.

Freedom to try new things.

Freedom to find myself.

Freedom to enjoy the city girl buried not-so-deep inside me.

Freedom from the small town life. The big city is where you can cross the street and be in another world completely. There's room to breath without feeling like 'this is it'. The city is where it's never quiet, never too still, and in that way it is perfectly peaceful.

Labels, Names, and New York.

Labels.
Just like on Sex and the City!
What are labels about? TV.
Taste.
Value.
But also, and more importantly, the way it makes you feel. The fact that something wasn't just mass produced and sold to millions of people at the low, low price of $29.99. The fact that you have something... that your friends haven't been thinking about picking up at Wal-Mart. The fact that odds are against the girl in the cubicle behind you showing up to work with your new handbag. And the fact that your man's ex is jealous of those shoes, and thinks they must be knock-offs.
Wouldn't it just be so...
Amazing!
To be able to dress yourself, head to toe, in a breathtaking designer... ANYTHING!
Labels. Knowing who designed what you put on. Knowing if it's a well known and respected designer... or someone that will become the next big splash because it was YOU who wore her new sunglasses and talked up a storm about the cute handbag you found.
Labels.
Not to mention the pure fun of putting an outfit together. Not to mention the joy of matching and mixing accessories, and shoes in a way that makes you feel like a designer too.

I never really noticed it before, or cared, but I have a purple frames eyeglasses by Calvin Klein. I'm not sure what that means... but I do know who I'm wearing... as apposed to those nameless frames I wear more often. My handbag for the past year has been a Wal-Mart clone... not that I've seen anyone else with one, but there were only two left when I got mine... so I'm sure they are floating around out there... But maybe the fact that it's a white bag means that those people got them dirty, or felt to shy to use it much. Who knows. Point is, as great of a bag as it is... I have no idea where the design came from!
But today. Oh today! I found a beautiful navy faux gator skin by Rosetti New York. It's not a big deal, it probably came from Target, Sears, or some where like that, a little bit more prestigious then Wal-Mart. But it has a name. And it makes me happy. It makes me feel like I could be a New Yorker someday. That's what I want, even just for a little while.

The Worst Fortune Ever!

You will be surrounded by things of luxury. Have you had that fortune cookie? It's true. Things of luxury will always be surrounding most of us, if not all. Not that we can have these things. Not that these things will bring us happiness. Not that these things will make us feel better about ourselves. And not that these things will improve our lives or empower us. But they are there. They are there and we see them, feel them, taste them, smell them, hear them, and we probably want them. Who doesn't want a new car? Who doesn't want new kitchen counter tops? Who doesn't want granite tile in the bathroom? Who doesn't want 200 thread count Egyptian Cotton bed sheets?
What are all these things worth to us? What junk will we save up for next?
Personally I wouldn't mind being able to buy new clothing every season and only wear everything once... I wouldn't have to do laundry. But why does money play such a big role in our lives? You need money for everything these days, and lots of it. I remember when gas was expensive at $1.20 a gallon. I remember when a movie was $6.00. Was it worth that? is it worth the higher price it is today?
Things of luxury.
Things.
Surrounded by things. What things? Things I can use everyday? Like dishes, clothing, furniture, and vehicles? Those things are useful, and needed. They can be luxurious.
Things like books, movies, games, toys, and decoration. Those are mostly all luxurious. I don't need that stuff, and most likely it won't be used everyday. Often maybe, but not everyday.
Surrounded.
I do feel surrounded by things. They don't seem luxurious to me... they seem to be in the way. I call these things junk. This junk is all over the house. It's not mine, I can't get rid of it. It's there, and there isn't much I can do about it.
Remember my last blog, about the Sims? Have you played the Sims? The Sims need to be filled when hungry, sent to the bathroom when full, and put to bed when tired. The Sims also need room, and they get it from pleasant items in a room. And when there is garbage in a room it makes the Sims unhappy... I'm sure the same is true for you as well, and I can say without a doubt that it's true for me to. A sink full of dirty dishes is depressing. Overflowing dustbins are depressing. Dirt on the floor is depressing. Bugs in the bathroom is depressing. Falling apart houses are depressing. No wonder I'm sick of my house. These things that surround me are piled like trash all over the house... and I don't doubt for a minute that there is actual trash mixed in with the piles of luxurious things surrounding me.

One of my goals this summer is to fix this problem. To clean the house that is so... depressing. To make this house into a place where people actually like to be. A home. It's not a home now. It's sad to me that a temporary dorm room feels more like home to me then this house that I've lived in for fifteen years. It's sad to me that I would rather see this house burn to the ground then to see more luxurious things brought into it.
My eight year old sister doesn't not need any more toys. She may be outgrowing the ones she has... but if this were my house, and if she were my daughter, then she would have to get rid of some junk before she could have anything new. And the same goes for dear old mum.
I think about the necessities of life and wonder if I wouldn't rather live in a mud hut with a thatched roof and have a scratchy mat for a bed and a little fire place and pan for cooking in, and a little out-house. It seems that would be so much more fun then this. This. Living out of a laundry basket because I can't get to my dresser. I can't get to my dresser because there are boxes in front of it. There are boxes in front of it because I've been filling them with stuff to get rid of. They are still there because I've run out of things that belong to me to put in them. And I'll have a stroke the day my mum has the time and energy to go through things with me.

You will be surrounded by things of luxury.

The Sims

What's so appealing about a video game in which you create people, and live their lives for them? It's a fantasy world. You do what you will and no one can judge you. Any mistakes you make won't actually affect your life.
But real life can be just as exciting can't it? Dreams and plans for yourself can come true, right?
Can on change schools so easily? Can one start dating at 22 so easily?
I once thought a big change was just what I needed... but when that didn't really work for me, I let my family make my next choice, Harding University in Arkansas. And I loved it, it was such a bless. My roommate was awesome, and had a family that is now my second family. I was just where my family wanted me, in close proximity to a lot of Christian guys... not that I've ever dated any of them. I guess I would like to. But is that who I am? I'm not a Sim, and my mom, well she may be 1/3rd my creator, but I don't have a plumbob and she doesn't control me.
I want to take charge of my own life. I want to be able to say that I've done everything that I've wanted to. I want to be able to say, "This is where I want to be."
So... where do I want to be? I don't mean next year, I know where I want to be then. I mean in five, ten, fifteen years. Where do I want to be? What do I want to do? There's a lot that I have to choose from. I could be a designer... of fashion! or I could write. Both? Or I could teach. That would be pretty reasonable... the paycheck would be shabby, but hey! ...
I dream about the big apple, dirty subways, taxi cabs, and a shabby apartment fixed up with a collection of mismatched furnishings. I want to go to work, walk my dog, and get drinks with the girls. I just don't know what I need to do to get myself there.