I’m a sucker for advertising.  I’m also the woman on the car lot that walks up to the car I want, usually as the salesman is approaching, and proclaims “I love this car!”, but that’s a different story.

Ads with great music, movie trailers, every damn thing in the Apple Store…all of it.  I cave and I believe the ridiculous crap they are telling me.  My real mind, buried somewhere beneath my haze of “Damn, if I just get that scarf from JCrew I’ll look as happy as that woman.  Maybe I’m just not wearing the right outfit.”, knows that it’s all ridiculous nonesense.  I know it and yet I still go into Williams-Sonoma and convince myself that cake pops are essential in my kitchen.

The only thing that saves me is I rarely buy.  I take the ride with the advertisers and I go into that world, but the cash, usually stays in my wallet.  I used to buy, but then I had debt and that whole signing and not having to pay business really jacked me up, so I stopped.

Now, I virtual shop.  I go online and put all sorts of things in my basket.  I tell myself that I need new shoes and all new t-shirts, I buy new linens for my bed.  I even redecorated my son’s room and then…I close the browser.  I’m sure somewhere I tell myself I didn’t really buy anything, but I swear I feel better.  It’s like I got my fix. Pathetic?  Maybe.

I’m a writer.  I live and create in my mind.  I’m a big believer in getting out into the world to experience things.  It makes you a better writer.  Life is a really full and rich playground, but I do spend crazy amounts of time in my head.

I’ve found ways to incorporate that crazy into my real life, allow myself to ride the wonderful marketing train without filling my life with things I don’t really need.

Brilliant, unless the real world dictates that I face my sad little closet.  Eh, jeans and heals are really in.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  I need a Dream Machine.

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