a quirk about splurging

I’ve noticed something about myself. And yet, even though I now recognize this in me and should have figured out how to handle it by now, I still do it constantly. (In fact, I’m literally in the middle of this exact quirk as I write this - hence why I’m thinking about it right now.)

Let’s say I decide to splurge a little and buy myself a specific something - a book perhaps. $20 or so. I drive down to the store (or find it online, if my local store doesn’t have it - please support brick and mortar, people).

So there I am, holding the book in my hands at the store or staring at it in my shopping cart online. This is it: the thing I’ve decided to splurge on and buy for myself; the thing I really, really want right now (even if my sudden urge to have it is inexplicable - which it usually is).

But now that it’s right here at my fingertips, ready to be bought, I think, But you know, if I’m going to spend $20, is this really the thing I want the most for that price? 

Notice what happened there: suddenly I’ve decided that I have $20 to spend - it’s no longer splurging at this point; it’s just an extra $20 I’ve magically decided that I have. And I need to make sure I use it on just the right thing.

So I look around the store/website more, think about all the other things I could get for roughly $20. I come up with three, four, five other choices.

Oh, and what about the thing I was looking at last month that was right about $20? - I mean, I wanted it then, so surely I must still want it now. (I don’t.)

Ooh, and what’s this? - the sale section? My magical $20 would go a long way if I bought something from here instead of just that one book at full price. Maybe I could even get two books with my $20.

Well shoot. Now I’m just feeling overwhelmed. Better not buy anything until I’m sure I figure out the best way to use that $20 which totally isn’t fake at all. I’ll just have to research online to make sure I get exactly the right $20ish thing - or set of things, if each is less than $20. I mean, it’d be a waste if I didn’t spend the whole $20.

Mind you, the first thing - the thing that took me to the store in the first place - is still the thing I want the most. It’s just not necessarily the most efficient thing for me to get. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know - gotta be careful with how we use it.

So I’ll bring Emily into the loop to get her take on it - even though she couldn’t care less what I buy with this imaginary $20. I mean, whatever I choose to buy is for me - what does she have to do with it?

Still, I bring her into my deliberation. And every time, her advice is precisely the same: Just get the thing you really want.

Yes, I wonder. But is that really the best thing to do with my completely real $20?

At this point, my predicament branches off into one of four directions, which I’ll list in order of least likely to most likely:

1. I realize that she’s right - if I’m going to spend money, it should at least be on the thing I want the most, rather than settling for what happens to be cheaper, or what seems like it just “makes the most sense” to buy. This outcome happens about 10% of the time.
2. I suddenly remember that I don’t actually have $20, so I buy nothing. This happens about 20% of the time. 
3. The thought crosses my mind that, really, if I’m going to spend money out of the blue like this, I ought to be nice and buy something for Emily or Emerson or Eden. That said, I get myself nothing, and buy a gift for one of them instead. There are actually two ways to consider the frequency of this outcome: 
1. This thought crosses my mind about 20% of the time. So there’s that.
2. When this thought does cross my mind, though, I know I’ll feel guilty if I don’t spend the money on one of them. And so, if the thought crosses my mind at all, there’s a roughly 95% chance I’m going to follow through with it. (The other 5% being that I decide to do nothing with the hypothetical money.)
4. I go against Emily’s advice and settle on something else cheaper or “more efficient,” even though it’s not the thing I really want, and even though I know I’m just going to stick it on the shelf and not read/play with/listen to it. But hey - it’s efficient, I think. This is the outcome about 50% of the time.

But it’s not that simple. (I imagine you’re thinking, That was simple?) For example, time of year has an impact on the decision making, as well.

Christmas is in three days. So now I’m thinking, I mean, Christmas is right around the corner. I shouldn’t be spending any money on myself. If nothing else, I should at least wait to see what I’m getting from other people. 

I counter this thought with, Easy - I’ll just make sure to get something that no one else would have thought to get me.

My brain is ready to keep debating, though. It says, Come to think of it, I might get some Christmas money or giftcards or something - might as well wait so that I can use those to buy The Thing instead of using this made-up $20.

Then I remind myself, Yes, but I have this $20 now which totally isn’t imaginary or hypothetical at all. So I can buy The Thing now, then use my Christmas money to buy another thing in a few days. 

Then I think, So that means I can buy The Thing I really want, and still get The More Efficient Thing That I Don't Really Want! Perfect! 

Then, Yes, but which should I get first?

So now I’m back to feeling overwhelmed and indecisive.

Oh, but here’s an idea! I think, Maybe I should use this $20 to buy something for Emily or Emerson or Eden instead. 

Then I think, Psh - they’re getting a bunch of stuff for Christmas in a few days anyway. 


Happy Christmas, friends!

Noah

I saw this little gem at the store one day:

Specifically, I'd like to draw your attention to the sticker in the bottom-left corner: "Based on the Best-Selling Book of All Time!"

Kind of a bit of a stretch, if you ask me. I mean, I know it's technically true, but...yikes.

I wonder why Darren Aronofsky didn't feel the need to add this sticker to the DVD cover for his movie(?)

Weird.

Apparently his movie is just "SPECTACULAR." So much for giving credit to the source material...

Anyway.

I find it particularly humorous when people complain that Aronofsky's film "isn't like the original."

I wonder: you know how long the "original" story of Noah is, right? It's literally three chapters in the book of Genesis (6, 7, 8) - in other words, right about 1,800 words. That's barely even the length of a modern short story.

So...you think that 1,800 words will turn into a full-length, two-hour movie, and somehow exactly resemble your interpretation of those 1,800 words?

Cute.

If you want the "real" story of Noah, it'd probably be a 10-minute movie. Who would see that?

Then again, people are always complain, saying,

"The movie is nothing like the book!"
"Of course the book is better."
etc. etc. etc.

So I guess I'm not surprised that people don't like Aronofsky's version.

I enjoyed the rock monsters, though. They were a nice touch.

And, to give credit where credit is due, I still like Aronofsky's rendition better than Hallmark's made-for-TV miniseries:

(Again, where is the "Based on the Best-Selling Book of All Time!" sticker? A lost opportunity, to be sure.)

I mean, F. Murray Abraham plays a pirate in that one, so you know it's going to be good.

Personally, I actually rather enjoyed Aronofsky's Noah - heck: I'd even go so far as to say it's better than the book.

A Paradogs

Emily and I spent this past weekend moving. And you probably know that—as you’re packing & unpacking boxes, lifting light & heavy things, sliding furniture across the floor, driving back and forth from one house to the next—you have a lot of time to think.

At some random point during our move, Emily began to sing the Oscar Meyer song (I suspect either because it appears in an episode of the Simpsons, or else because she was hungry—I’m not sure which). I didn’t pay very close attention to her singing it in the moment, but of course the diddy got stuck in my head.

As I listened to the song playing on loop in my mind, I realized something about the lyrics:

It’s a paradox.

I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener

That is what I’d truly like to be

‘Cause if I were an Oscar Meyer wiener

Everyone would want to be like me

Think about it. Break it down logically:

1) Everyone wants what I want

2) I want X

3) Therefore everyone wants X

Those first three steps are fine so far as they go (aside from the fact that they hint at a rather ego-centric, imaginary-audience issue in the singer), but the song specifically mentions a fourth step that really throws a wrench in the works. The word ‘cause at the beginning of the third line is vital here, and makes the meaning:

4) I only want X because everyone wants X

The question is: If he didn’t want to be an Oscar Meyer wiener, would anyone else want to be one? And, if nobody else wanted to be one, would he want to be one?

It’s a closed loop. A paradox. A chicken-or-egg scenario.

I have to wonder: Did the writer/singer of this song intend to create a paradox, or did he accidentally trip into this cosmic, mind-blowing, paradoxical force simply by having self-esteem issues (ironically coupled with imaginary-audience issues)?

After thinking through the grand paradox that is this song—and realizing that surely I must be one step closer to unlocking the mystery of the universe, all because of a hot dog—Emily kindly informed me that I am remembering the lyrics to the song incorrectly. Rather than the last line being: “Everyone would want to be like me,” rather, I’m told, the line is actually: “Everyone would be in love with me.”

That makes much more sense.

It turns out the writer simply has self-esteem issues.

How disappointing.

Golden Birthdays

This was the train of thought I experienced while driving to work this morning:

I work with a girl who is 20 years old, and her birthday is August 20. This means that this past birthday was her “golden” birthday (when the age you’re turning matches the date you were born).

I have the latest possible golden birthday: the 31^st.

But that’s fine. It doesn’t really matter much to me.

But then I thought about people born on February 29^th, and I thought that would be a really cool golden birthday if it happened to actually land on February 29^th (as opposed to having to celebrate it on, say, February 28^th  or March 1^st), because that would be a meaningful golden birthday.

Then I thought, “In fact, that’d be so rare and historic that it would probably be on the news” (or, at the very least, on Yahoo! News, which features articles about everything). I mean, they always talk about when some kid turns 12 years old at 12:12pm on 12/12/2012, and stuff like that. Why not mention someone turning 29 years old on February 29^th?

For a moment I thought that maybe it’s just never ever happened before. In that case, the first time would be historic.

And then…

And then, suddenly, I realized the sad, cold truth: It isn’t possible to turn 29 years old on February 29^th.

Since February 29^th only happens every four years, if you have that birthday, your “birthday” will only occur on years when your age is divisible by four. So your birthday will fall on the day you turn 28 years old, but then not again until you’re 32.

You poor, poor people born on February 29^th. You’ll never have a golden birthday. My deepest condolences. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.