I am not a believer in Valentine's Day. I've been known to call it a stupid day, the worst holiday, and the day of black. My joy for the day first died in seventh grade. I had hopes of "going out" with the quarterback of the eighth grade football team. Our mothers worked together. We were friends. He was the person at school I liked better than most everyone else. He never liked me back. In high school, the boy spurned me by calling me "Sharece Maurice" after Drew Barrymore's character in Never Been Kissed. He was not the only reason I didn't like Valentine's Day. As I grew older, I hated the way the day of love was so commercialized. It became such a nuisance.
Today, I participated in the Valentine's celebration with the sweetest group of third graders known to man. I had a lot of fun. The way the kids cared about each other and helped each other have fun almost renewed my faith in Valentine's Day.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Work Wears
I never thought I would be the sort of person who stressed out about work or took work home with me. But as I have switched from job to job in the past few years, I have come to realize that work will always wear on a person unless the person is willing to do a poor job. My mother tends to be a workaholic. My sister and one of my brothers have been known to have similar work styles to those of my mom. My father is a recovering workaholic. With this kind of influence around me for so many years, it's a surprise I didn't work my way to a real career sooner.
My work is wearing on me. I've gotta fix that.
My work is wearing on me. I've gotta fix that.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Death of a Cow
This morning, I was awakened by my mother. "Rece, Daddy needs your help. They're coming to butcher the cow today." Let me just say, upon principle, I am a vegetarian. If I could, I would boycott meat all together. There is something about the innocence in animals. Why would we want to hurt them? In practice, I am a carnivore. I eat meat. I prefer ham to all other meats, but I eat different meat to get proper protein.
So when I woke up this morning to help my dad, I only helped put up the corral. I felt bad doing it. And when my dad tricked the young steer into the corral, I talked to it. I tried to convince it that I was on its side. I wonder if I will remember that next summer when my dad tries to serve me tri-tip steak.
My sister-in-law watched the cow massacre. She thought it was fascinating. Why on earth she takes pleasure in a young cow's pain is beyond me.
Some might consider me a fruitcake. I consider myself empathetic. How do YOU think the cow would feel? I'd be frightened if I were a cow about to me murdered.
So when I woke up this morning to help my dad, I only helped put up the corral. I felt bad doing it. And when my dad tricked the young steer into the corral, I talked to it. I tried to convince it that I was on its side. I wonder if I will remember that next summer when my dad tries to serve me tri-tip steak.
My sister-in-law watched the cow massacre. She thought it was fascinating. Why on earth she takes pleasure in a young cow's pain is beyond me.
Some might consider me a fruitcake. I consider myself empathetic. How do YOU think the cow would feel? I'd be frightened if I were a cow about to me murdered.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Bad Hair Day
This morning, my brother and his wife brought my niece over pretty early in the morning. I could hear her come into the house. She's not exactly a quiet or shy girl. I heard her ask a number of questions about me.
When I finally meandered out of my room, I was still in my PJs. I wore my glasses and hadn't done anything to my hair. My niece gave me a hug and then told me, "I don't like your hair." Granted, my hair was a little frazzled, sticking up in various spots. But she didn't need to TELL me just how bad it looked.
The truth is, over Thanksgiving Break, I went through a rather tragic hair cutting process. I started to look like Haley Mills. No joke. I'm talking about the bob from the original Parent Trap, the one that makes her look a bit like a mushroom head.
I'm hoping that my hair catastrophe will soon settle down, but for now, I grin through the terrible bashing from my three-year-old niece.
When I finally meandered out of my room, I was still in my PJs. I wore my glasses and hadn't done anything to my hair. My niece gave me a hug and then told me, "I don't like your hair." Granted, my hair was a little frazzled, sticking up in various spots. But she didn't need to TELL me just how bad it looked.
The truth is, over Thanksgiving Break, I went through a rather tragic hair cutting process. I started to look like Haley Mills. No joke. I'm talking about the bob from the original Parent Trap, the one that makes her look a bit like a mushroom head.
I'm hoping that my hair catastrophe will soon settle down, but for now, I grin through the terrible bashing from my three-year-old niece.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Marooned in Dayton
For the past week, I have encountered more snow that I ever remember seeing in Dayton, Oregon. As a kid, we had the occasional snow day during which my siblings and I would have snow fights, build speed bumps, or go sledding down our cousins' hill. This past week, the "rough weather conditions" led to five snow days, leaving me out of work. My sister was ecstatic. She tends to be a bit of a procrastinator and her work for school wasn't completed by Monday. My job doesn't require much "homework" so I was a bit bummed to not have school.
Fortunately, the snow didn't wound my spirits. I happen to be an avid fan of snow. Why wouldn't I be? I don't own my own car to ruin while driving in the snow. I didn't have to trudge through the snow to work every day last week. I was in snow heaven.
I was happy that my sister and cousin still lived on my road. We adventured through the snow in our jeans (snow pants have NEVER been a necessity in Yamhill County) and visited our Grandfather. While this was fun, we decided to enjoy the snow on a deeper level. We built ourselves a snowperson. I claimed that the snowperson was without gender or more accurately transgender, as it was first built as a snowman and was soon transformed into a snowwoman. My sister, not wanting to mess with the politics behind such a statement, named the figure, Frostette, both after Frosty and Smurfette, I believe. It was a sad hour when, the evening of her creation, Frostette collapsed into a few blocks of snow. Her makers had not done well to her preservation against tough wind conditions.
For the last few days, I've taken to writing stories, some of them dark, some light. It's been fun to delve deeply into my imagination and emerge with tales of humor or of woe.
And now I'm sitting here, taking a break for Twilight (reading it for the third time) and wishing that I could walk into town and go shopping at the antique mall or eat at the Italian restaurant. Snow may be fun, but being marooned in my parents' house for a week begins to get me a little bit stir crazy.
Fortunately, the snow didn't wound my spirits. I happen to be an avid fan of snow. Why wouldn't I be? I don't own my own car to ruin while driving in the snow. I didn't have to trudge through the snow to work every day last week. I was in snow heaven.
I was happy that my sister and cousin still lived on my road. We adventured through the snow in our jeans (snow pants have NEVER been a necessity in Yamhill County) and visited our Grandfather. While this was fun, we decided to enjoy the snow on a deeper level. We built ourselves a snowperson. I claimed that the snowperson was without gender or more accurately transgender, as it was first built as a snowman and was soon transformed into a snowwoman. My sister, not wanting to mess with the politics behind such a statement, named the figure, Frostette, both after Frosty and Smurfette, I believe. It was a sad hour when, the evening of her creation, Frostette collapsed into a few blocks of snow. Her makers had not done well to her preservation against tough wind conditions.
For the last few days, I've taken to writing stories, some of them dark, some light. It's been fun to delve deeply into my imagination and emerge with tales of humor or of woe.
And now I'm sitting here, taking a break for Twilight (reading it for the third time) and wishing that I could walk into town and go shopping at the antique mall or eat at the Italian restaurant. Snow may be fun, but being marooned in my parents' house for a week begins to get me a little bit stir crazy.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
food of champions
I first heard of chili-mac in high school drama class. One of my good buds couldn't get enough of the stuff. He raved about the way the cheese blended with the chili into an amazing mass of goodness. The first time I ate it, I was a sophomore in college. I'd cut down my meal plan for the caf. and was living on toast and easy mac. One day, I splurged on a random trip to Costco and bought a six pack of chili. That's when it happened. I mixed the two together and discovered the meal of a lifetime.
And tonight, I had a bowl of that delicious combo.
And tonight, I had a bowl of that delicious combo.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
deadlines and dragonflies
Deadlines are a bust. It seems like no matter how smart I am and how much I prepare myself for whatever it is, I always get stuck with the worm. It's procrastination. I'm starting to believe it's a real disease. And I think there is a cure.
What would life without procrastination look like? Would it be all feathers and candies? Sunny days on the beach with popsicles and volleyball? I think that even if I lived in this blissful world, I would stop mid-stride and think, "isn't there something I'm supposed to be working on right now?" It's probably good I wasn't born under a silver spoon, because I'm sure my moaning and groaning would have caused severe tarnish by now.
What would life without procrastination look like? Would it be all feathers and candies? Sunny days on the beach with popsicles and volleyball? I think that even if I lived in this blissful world, I would stop mid-stride and think, "isn't there something I'm supposed to be working on right now?" It's probably good I wasn't born under a silver spoon, because I'm sure my moaning and groaning would have caused severe tarnish by now.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Miss Bunn
Miss Bunn is me. She's the lady at school. The blonde one. The one who works in small groups and teaches kids how to pronounce words in Spanish even though she doesn't know the meaning of the words. Miss Bunn is funny. Kids really like her.
I don't like being called, "Miss Bunn." When I was in Ukraine, I was called by my first name by students, teachers, and friends alike. I didn't want to feel like an old lady.
Today, I realized that I am, in fact, an old lady. The girls I teach transitions English to were born in 1999 or 2000, during my junior year of high school. Now I see why they might expect me to be married. They look at me and think, "she's old."
They don't understand the "Miss" thing. I'm older. That's all that counts. So they call me Mrs. Bunn most of the time.
One day, the kids asked me my age. First Deisy asked, "are you an adult?" to which Daniela answered, "Yeah, she's an adult, she has a job." But what made my day was when Virginia said, "I thought you were a teenager." That's sweet, right. I'm young. My bones aren't getting brittle yet!
I don't like being called, "Miss Bunn." When I was in Ukraine, I was called by my first name by students, teachers, and friends alike. I didn't want to feel like an old lady.
Today, I realized that I am, in fact, an old lady. The girls I teach transitions English to were born in 1999 or 2000, during my junior year of high school. Now I see why they might expect me to be married. They look at me and think, "she's old."
They don't understand the "Miss" thing. I'm older. That's all that counts. So they call me Mrs. Bunn most of the time.
One day, the kids asked me my age. First Deisy asked, "are you an adult?" to which Daniela answered, "Yeah, she's an adult, she has a job." But what made my day was when Virginia said, "I thought you were a teenager." That's sweet, right. I'm young. My bones aren't getting brittle yet!
Monday, August 18, 2008
priorities
We all have priorities. Some of us choose family, friends, or fun. Some might choose partying, work, numbing the mind, or sitting at home.
I usually choose people. I surround myself with my family and friends. So I plan events and outings with the important people in my life.
My dad and I had plans tonight. We were going to watch the new Batman movie. But when I got off of work, I had a new text message. We needed to reschedule so my dad wouldn't miss his show. Nine PM every Monday night. One Tree Hill. To be honest, my entire family is invested in this addicting but somewhat unrealistic show.
But seriously. We had to cancel our outing to stay home and watch a RERUN on TV. I think the old man needs to take a good look at his priorities.
I usually choose people. I surround myself with my family and friends. So I plan events and outings with the important people in my life.
My dad and I had plans tonight. We were going to watch the new Batman movie. But when I got off of work, I had a new text message. We needed to reschedule so my dad wouldn't miss his show. Nine PM every Monday night. One Tree Hill. To be honest, my entire family is invested in this addicting but somewhat unrealistic show.
But seriously. We had to cancel our outing to stay home and watch a RERUN on TV. I think the old man needs to take a good look at his priorities.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
A Date With My Mother
The other day, I went on a date with my mom. It was a regular Friday but instead of going home as I seem to do just about every Friday night, I had plans...with my mom. We drove up to Portland to go to a movie. Our mission: to watch The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants 2. Instead of going to the show that started when we arrived, we opted to go to the later showing and grab some dinner and do a little shopping in the meantime. We wandered the mall, made a few unnecessary purchases, and went to eat at Macaroni Grill, my mom's favorite restaurant.
And so it was. We had dinner, talked about our lives and as my mother took her first bite of dessert, a horrific look came across her face. "I'm full," she said.
"No you are not. Have one more bite," was my response.
She didn't try any more but watched as I sifted through the questionably textured apple dessert.
When we finally left the restaurant, we went back up to the movie theater. After each set of escalators, my mom had to stop. I know she was often cursed with motion sickness but after an escalator...seriously. We reached the top and...she had to throw up. Instead of spewing out on the spectators four floors down, she rushed to the bathroom where she blew chunks.
It was just a regular night hanging out with my mom. What more could I ask for?
And so it was. We had dinner, talked about our lives and as my mother took her first bite of dessert, a horrific look came across her face. "I'm full," she said.
"No you are not. Have one more bite," was my response.
She didn't try any more but watched as I sifted through the questionably textured apple dessert.
When we finally left the restaurant, we went back up to the movie theater. After each set of escalators, my mom had to stop. I know she was often cursed with motion sickness but after an escalator...seriously. We reached the top and...she had to throw up. Instead of spewing out on the spectators four floors down, she rushed to the bathroom where she blew chunks.
It was just a regular night hanging out with my mom. What more could I ask for?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Relationship Wizard
My sister got herself a new boyfriend. I'm sure he's nice and all but somehow he's turned my sister into a melted carmel sundae. She's all liquidy about him. She spends all her time thinking about him and when she's not thinking about him, she's calling him or texting him on her oh-so-fantastic cell phone.
Are all relationships like this?
I'm not a very relationship oriented person. Truth is, I don't understand the concept of relationships. I care too much about myself to really give up what I want for the sake of someone else. On occasion I can be a nice person. I share and give up my valuable time to help out my friends and family. But why would I do this for some guy?
I wouldn't. I had my heart broken once and although I "learned something" from the experience, I don't really see the point of having my heart cut up into shreds again.
There is something to be said about those people who truly diverge themselves into the realm of dating. They are dare-devils, masochists. They put their faith in other people. At times, they fail. Sometimes they succeed. No matter what, they move on, keep trying and if they find that unlikely person that they can actually stand, they try harder, willing the relationship to last.
I don't get it. I wonder if I ever will. For now, I choose to be flabbergasted. And I'm okay with that.
Are all relationships like this?
I'm not a very relationship oriented person. Truth is, I don't understand the concept of relationships. I care too much about myself to really give up what I want for the sake of someone else. On occasion I can be a nice person. I share and give up my valuable time to help out my friends and family. But why would I do this for some guy?
I wouldn't. I had my heart broken once and although I "learned something" from the experience, I don't really see the point of having my heart cut up into shreds again.
There is something to be said about those people who truly diverge themselves into the realm of dating. They are dare-devils, masochists. They put their faith in other people. At times, they fail. Sometimes they succeed. No matter what, they move on, keep trying and if they find that unlikely person that they can actually stand, they try harder, willing the relationship to last.
I don't get it. I wonder if I ever will. For now, I choose to be flabbergasted. And I'm okay with that.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
strange encounter
Yesterday, I went to the Yamhill County Fair. I was on a date with my father, but I still met up with a few of my friends from work so we could all watch the concert. Blue Oyster Cult was on stage. The band is from the seventies and most of the members were obviously not the originals, but it was still pretty great. I had a few beers to boost morale and help me enjoy the music.
While I was talking animatedly to my co-workers, my dad stepped aside to pick the brains of the men in uniform behind us. My dad is a retired colonel, you see. He started talking to one of them for a while and somehow it came up that I was in the Peace Corps for a spell. The guy, Joshua, must not have been so bright because he still thought I was in college. I'm WAY too old for college now, that is, unless I EVER get into grad school.
Joshua tried to get me to join the air national guard. I don't have too much against the military, I mean, my dad worked for the government for the better part of his life but I mean seriously, I'm not the type of person you want to recruit. I was in Peace Corps. I don't believe in working for the man (even though that's kinda what I do now at the bank).
The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy gave me his card to call. Of course, he wasn't hitting on me, he was trying to get me to sign up for the air guard. And then when I ran into him later, he said that as a former Peace Corps volunteer, I couldn't join. Um, I wasn't going to but now there is DEFINITELY no reason to call...
Hmph.
While I was talking animatedly to my co-workers, my dad stepped aside to pick the brains of the men in uniform behind us. My dad is a retired colonel, you see. He started talking to one of them for a while and somehow it came up that I was in the Peace Corps for a spell. The guy, Joshua, must not have been so bright because he still thought I was in college. I'm WAY too old for college now, that is, unless I EVER get into grad school.
Joshua tried to get me to join the air national guard. I don't have too much against the military, I mean, my dad worked for the government for the better part of his life but I mean seriously, I'm not the type of person you want to recruit. I was in Peace Corps. I don't believe in working for the man (even though that's kinda what I do now at the bank).
The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy gave me his card to call. Of course, he wasn't hitting on me, he was trying to get me to sign up for the air guard. And then when I ran into him later, he said that as a former Peace Corps volunteer, I couldn't join. Um, I wasn't going to but now there is DEFINITELY no reason to call...
Hmph.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
lobsterback attack
I like to swim. I always have. There was never anything more fun to do than go swimming on a hot summer day.
This weekend was warm. It was more than warm. It was hot. On Saturday, rather than writing, studying for the GRE or learning more about how I can save the world, I took a small road towards hedonism by laying out in the sun. I engaged in some light reading and fell asleep, once on the beach chair I was lying in for most of the time and twice in the pool while in my floating bed.
Three hours of leisure led to at least a week of true pain. Skin such as mine cannot take the burn that has encased my back.
And so my back matches the red shirt that dons it each night. I can only hope that soon the freckles will take over and take all the ache out of it.
This weekend was warm. It was more than warm. It was hot. On Saturday, rather than writing, studying for the GRE or learning more about how I can save the world, I took a small road towards hedonism by laying out in the sun. I engaged in some light reading and fell asleep, once on the beach chair I was lying in for most of the time and twice in the pool while in my floating bed.
Three hours of leisure led to at least a week of true pain. Skin such as mine cannot take the burn that has encased my back.
And so my back matches the red shirt that dons it each night. I can only hope that soon the freckles will take over and take all the ache out of it.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Too busy with life
In Ukraine, I lived a simple life. I had time to call my family and visit my old Ukrainian babycya across the street. My time was free. I had hobbies, would travel to see my friends on weekends and always had time to help my friends whenever they asked me to do something.
But now I am in America. My life is chaotic. Every day is so full to the brim with work or entertaining others that I have no time to myself. I have no time to do the things I love.
What does that mean? To say "I have no time" to do something is pointless. I have the same amount of time here that I did when I was in Ukraine. I have twenty-four hours every day to do what I want. It is my choice to do whatever I choose. Obviously if I am telling myself that I have no time to myself, I am doing something wrong. I need to take care of myself. We need to enjoy this life we have. Not only is this our one life to live, but I truly believe we'd better enjoy living it.
But now I am in America. My life is chaotic. Every day is so full to the brim with work or entertaining others that I have no time to myself. I have no time to do the things I love.
What does that mean? To say "I have no time" to do something is pointless. I have the same amount of time here that I did when I was in Ukraine. I have twenty-four hours every day to do what I want. It is my choice to do whatever I choose. Obviously if I am telling myself that I have no time to myself, I am doing something wrong. I need to take care of myself. We need to enjoy this life we have. Not only is this our one life to live, but I truly believe we'd better enjoy living it.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
don't touch my money!
Today my niece showed me her coin purse. It's about 2 inches deep and 2 1/2 inches long. It holds about 54 cents. She handed me this, her wallet, to look at. I started to open it up to count the change and she yelled out, "Put that back right now!"
Dude. Sorry. I didn't realize that our obsession with money starts at age 2. Then as she was leaving, I gave her a hug. After the hug, she checked her purse to see that her wallet was still there. Did she think I took it? Have I played "magic" tricks with her before?
Wow. That's all I can think. Wow. Money... an obsession... the thing most people end up fighting over... the bitch that has enslaved us all.
Dude. Sorry. I didn't realize that our obsession with money starts at age 2. Then as she was leaving, I gave her a hug. After the hug, she checked her purse to see that her wallet was still there. Did she think I took it? Have I played "magic" tricks with her before?
Wow. That's all I can think. Wow. Money... an obsession... the thing most people end up fighting over... the bitch that has enslaved us all.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
the death of customer service
The buck stops here. When Harry Truman first coined this phrase, I wonder if he knew how many people would use it. It's so matter of fact. It shows ownership, control, leadership, responsibility. I like it because it shows that Truman was a bit of a hard-ass.
At my current position on teller row, I often feel like a bit of a hard-ass. I'm not really sure how customers perceive me, but I do know that I react strongly to all of their misfortunes and annoying habits. Take, for example, a woman who doesn't have it all together. She often misplaces her keys, forgets that her pen is in her hair, and can't ever remember her account number. She laughingly comes up to the counter, shuffles through her bag, trying to find her check book. She apologizes for not being ready but doesn't step aside to let one of the other ten people in line come to the front. This woman ruins my day. Her light cackle annoys this aging mind of mine and echoes in my brain until I want to run away and scream.
Stupid people drive me crazy. There is a point when the brain feels as if it can explode. These people stretch me to that point.
At my current position on teller row, I often feel like a bit of a hard-ass. I'm not really sure how customers perceive me, but I do know that I react strongly to all of their misfortunes and annoying habits. Take, for example, a woman who doesn't have it all together. She often misplaces her keys, forgets that her pen is in her hair, and can't ever remember her account number. She laughingly comes up to the counter, shuffles through her bag, trying to find her check book. She apologizes for not being ready but doesn't step aside to let one of the other ten people in line come to the front. This woman ruins my day. Her light cackle annoys this aging mind of mine and echoes in my brain until I want to run away and scream.
Stupid people drive me crazy. There is a point when the brain feels as if it can explode. These people stretch me to that point.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
red noses in spring
Allergies seems to attack the most innocent of people. I, for one, consider myself to be one with the earth. I started a compost pile outside my parents' house, I recycle all recycleable materials. I use less toilet paper than I used to. I do good things for this earth we live on. And yet, I am plagued with allergies. What is the deal?
I stayed home yesterday. My activities included sleeping, watching Sex and the City Season Three on my TV, blowing my nose, and drinking water. And this morning I woke up and just as much snot is squeezing out of my nose as before. Within the hour, I'll be at work. People who help people all day as I do shouldn't go to work when their noses are acting up like mine is yet again today. Let's just hope I'm not one of those crazy carrier monkeys.
I stayed home yesterday. My activities included sleeping, watching Sex and the City Season Three on my TV, blowing my nose, and drinking water. And this morning I woke up and just as much snot is squeezing out of my nose as before. Within the hour, I'll be at work. People who help people all day as I do shouldn't go to work when their noses are acting up like mine is yet again today. Let's just hope I'm not one of those crazy carrier monkeys.
Monday, April 28, 2008
scratchy throat
This morning, I woke up in a haze. My eyes were tired and blurry (as usual) and my throat was scratchy and uncomfortable. I was sick. I didn't know if it was the sickness of cold or the pain of allergies which was causing my discomfort.
I called my supervisor at work to call in sick. As I wasn't throwing up or anything, I was told that I could not stay home. And so I went. And I feel worse. The scratchy nose and throat are most definitely here for a while.
I called my supervisor at work to call in sick. As I wasn't throwing up or anything, I was told that I could not stay home. And so I went. And I feel worse. The scratchy nose and throat are most definitely here for a while.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
up a quarter
Gas is ridiculous. My mom thought the gas prices wouldn't go very far over $3 per gallon. But here we are just four months later and the gas prices are almost a dollar more than a mere four months ago.
The price of tea at the coffee shop next to work has increased by 25 cents. That happened within the past week.
What's next? Toilet paper? Water?
The price of tea at the coffee shop next to work has increased by 25 cents. That happened within the past week.
What's next? Toilet paper? Water?
Monday, April 21, 2008
shopping carts and such
I like to travel. I like to go new places and discover new and interesting things to do. Staying in one place turns me into a bit of a nutcase so that I begin to run around in circles, binge on chocolate or drink wine by myself.
Since returning to the states over four months ago, I have begun to realize that I am a tad on the hyper-active side. I must do something. On more than one occasion, I have been caught in the world of shopping. It's a mall called consumerism. We Americans walk through the doors and get caught in the twist of wanting more and more of what we don't need to purchase.
I get caught up by the accessories, the different things to put in my purse, in my ears or on my fingers. Others find the new cars most desirable and trade in for new cars every two years or more.
I am a consumer. And I don't like that I consume so much. Every day I try to do a little bit better. I reuse my various possessions and regift what I must. Slowly, I will be what I need to be.
Since returning to the states over four months ago, I have begun to realize that I am a tad on the hyper-active side. I must do something. On more than one occasion, I have been caught in the world of shopping. It's a mall called consumerism. We Americans walk through the doors and get caught in the twist of wanting more and more of what we don't need to purchase.
I get caught up by the accessories, the different things to put in my purse, in my ears or on my fingers. Others find the new cars most desirable and trade in for new cars every two years or more.
I am a consumer. And I don't like that I consume so much. Every day I try to do a little bit better. I reuse my various possessions and regift what I must. Slowly, I will be what I need to be.
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