Retail Therapy – The Cost of a Funk

Yesterday I was in a funk.

I thought I’d walk it off. I believe in the power of body over mind – get the blood moving, get the endorphins flowing and the clouds will part.

I thought I’d commune with nature. I believe that staring at a tree can go a long way towards dissolving homicidal tendencies.

I walked from Cambridge to Beacon Hill, through the Boston Gardens where I sat and stared at trees. It didn’t work. The world was still clouds and daggers.

So I did the only other thing I could think of to do (though it was less a thought out plan and more like a response to a nic fit). I shopped.

I bought things I couldn’t afford which amounted to blush, eye shadow, a dress, a skirt, a pair of pants and a pedicure. I don’t want to look up the prices and do the addition because that’ll put me in a different kind of funk and the process will start all over again. But it did get me wondering – is there a mathematical formula for the ratio between $ spent or number of items bought and happy brain chemistry? It can’t be a linear relationship where the more money you spend the happier you get because if we take that premise to its logical conclusion then going broke would be bliss. I’ve been there. It’s not.

Or is the shopping - happiness formula not about the monetary value of the purchases but rather about the number of items bought – the consumption? I have no desire to eat when I’m unhappy, but acquiring new items is somehow satisfying. Would acquiring key chains or pencil sharpeners or those brightly colored plastic paper clips have the same effect as the pricier blush, eye shadow, skirt, dress, pants and pedicure? And is there some critical number of items which once reached brings on the brain alteration process? If so, what's that magic number. 3? 24? Is it different for each person or does it depend on the particular cause of the funk? 3 items for a fight with your boss. 8 for an argument with sis. 32 when the boyfriend pisses you off?

Does the improved post-spree mood have to do with newness in general? If I went to a gallery and looked at paintings I couldn’t buy but were new to me, would that work? Or is it just the distraction of shopping – getting your mind off whatever is that put you in the funk to begin with?

Or is it just a simple psychological formula – damage to sense of self is immediately (if temporarily) repaired with material items that help reconstruct outer image of said self. Plug up the holes with some fruity gum and buy yourself some time to work on the real repairs.

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions but I sure am glad I kept my receipts.

Toward the Alleghenies

This is a test. Of what? Self-indulgent poetry, of thee I sing.

Rituals...

I have a little obsession with the number 3. It's completely irrational and I can't really explain it but I think it's by far the most beautiful number that ever was. Because 3 is so fantastic, 333, which is 3 3s is also great.

You might think that 3 3s is better than one 3 but it's not because my numerical preference goes something like this:

-3
-prime numbers excluding 2, 5 and 7 (although I think 257 is prime so that would be ok)
-then anything involving 3 3s (like 333 or 9, which is also 3 3s, or 27 which is 3x3x3)
-then anything ending in 1, 3 or 9

Where does the ritual come in? At 3:33 every day - a time when I can almost convince myself that something magical might happen - I try to take that minute to do something that might spur the magic along. I stop what I'm doing and I daydream or I write or I look out the window or I read something fun or I email a friend...you get the idea. I realize these are trivial activities - more mundane than magic, and I don't always manage to catch 3:33 as it happens, but it's my little numerical ritual. 3:34 is a real downer.

(It would've been really cool if I posted this at 3:33.)

DIY Hobo Sack

I'm not going to lie, as a kid, I wanted to be a hobo. Freedom on the open rails, eating beans out of a can, sharing stories with fellow travelers around a campfire--it all seemed so awesome. I had mostly given up on the dream until I came across the Laugh-Out-Loud Cats cartoon series, featuring Meowlin Q. Kitteh and Pip. Those two crazy cats revitalized my longing for the hobo lifestyle. And now, a post from a blog called "the cottage at frog creek" makes it all seem possible with instructions for sewing your own bindle.

:D

Revamped Graphic Equalizer from Marcelo Costa on Vimeo.
I have watched this several times and I can't stop. It makes me smile everytime. What song is this? Thanks to Laughing Squid via Kate. And apologies for being such a lazy blogger for the past week.

Jokes

No one tells jokes anymore...except my dad. I usually roll my eyes, but I liked this one enough to inflict it on you:

A bloke walks into a Glasgow library and says to the prim
librarian,'Excuse me Miss, dey ye hiv ony books on suicide?'
To which she stops doing her tasks, looks at him over the
top of her glasses and says, 'Fook off, ye'll no bring it back.

Found on Sidewalk

Found this during graduation season a few years ago but I always loved it as a metaphor for small sparkly joy amid routine.