Consumerism

My job is turning me into a consumerist whore.

Most people would agree that if they had the means to acquire whatever they want whenever they want it, they'd exercise that liberty with reckless abandon. I know I would. There are a lot of things that I see and wish I could have but I'm usually very good about not spending. Certain, or almost all, really, purchases just can't be reconciled when you're a "starving artist." So I see, I pine, I walk away.

But when you're sitting on your ass writing product features and reviews all fucking day, it starts to get to you. A part of me needs to convince myself that something is worth it so I can write about why it's worth it for other people, and now, I'm sure that I'll drop dead on the spot if I don't own a Patek Philippe watch or a Canon Rebel digital SLR. I'm quite certain that the Playstation 3 will soon add "cures cancer" to its product specs and a pair of Air Jordans will enable me to take flight while upping my "street cred."

I've been easing myself in. Last week, I ordered a hooded Zoo York sweatshirt while hunting for hoodies. "They're versatile," the voice in my head chimed, "and it's on sale!" What...the...fuck? I don't even wear hoodies...but I guess I'll start now?

This week it was Crest Advanced Whitestrips while researching grooming products. "All that coffee is taking its toll," I rationalized, "and look, it's almost 50% off on Amazon!" This one was something I actually needed, I guess. But I'm sure there are other things I need a lot more, like say, money?

I've been kind of good so far. No obscene purchases but that new Canon PowerShot is looking pretty sweet.

I'm doing iPod accessories next week and I'm afraid. I've been itching for a good pair of over ear headphones...

-L