Fasting for Imagination

Last night I began a fast...of television. I will allow myself a very limited amount of viewing. I have deemed that only weather reports, and certain HBO programs will be worthy of my attention from here on out. And if you're saying to yourself "hmm, this fast conveniently coincides with the finale of American Idol, The Office, Scrubs, and 30 Rock," well, you might be on to something. I can only imagine what I'll do once Project Runway comes back on.

So what did I do with my first night of freedom from the evils of television? Perhaps I worked on a writing project for a few hours, cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed my car, or caught up with family members I have been out of touch with? No. Perhaps I went for a long walk, cooked myself a fabulous dinner, or finished reading the novel I've been neglecting for the past two weeks? No. I read a magazine and fell asleep. Not even the ring of my cell phone with David beckoning on the other end could rouse me. And every few hours I opened my eye just a
crack to see my partner in crime, Oscar aka Mr. Blackpants, basking in the new freedom of being so recently released from the shackels of worthless programming.

Tonight I am going to lay a shroud over the television, to symbolize its death in my living room. Not too big of a shroud, though, I might need to watch something, just a short little something, when there's nothing else to do.

Addicted to Shopping

I recently went shopping. Before any of this blog can make sense, you must know that I spent all $17K that I was able to earn in high school on clothing, gas for my car, and the occasional movie or restaurant meal. I can't believe I used to live like that. Now times have changed. Currently, about 2/3 of my budget goes to tuition, with precious little left over for gas, credit card payments, insurance, and my long lost buddy--shopping.

I don't go shopping very often because it adds up. But do you know what else adds up? The urge to go shopping. After a couple of months my skin starts to tingle and all I can think about is how I have nothing to wear at home (even though I have enough clothing to wear something different every day for at least four months, doesn't mean I actually want to wear every thing I have). If you repeat something to yourself often enough, you'll eventually believe it, and that is how I end up at the mall three times a year.

At first I set a strict budget. "No more than $100," I tell myself. But then I see many items with great prices, and I can't help myself. "I guess I can put it on my card," is my inevitable white-flag of surrender, waving limply in the air.

I was curious to see if the signs of substance abuse align with the signs of :


* Smell of substance on breath, body or clothes.
Sweat, from the labors of shopping? Or maybe it's the yummy spiced chai I was drinking...
* Extreme hyperactivity; excessive talkativeness.
There is no way this one describes a shopper!
* Needle marks or bruises on lower arm, legs or bottom of feet.
I don't know about needle marks, but maybe pen marks, from signing too many sales slips.
* Changes in friends: new hang-outs, avoidance of old crowd, new friends are drug users.
I do like to shop with a new person every now and then. And who knows, they may be drug users...
* Change in activities; loss of interest in things that were important before.
What's more important than shopping?
* Defensiveness, temper tantrums, resentful behavior (everything's a hassle).
Yeah, everything is a hassle when you realize all your pants flare out at the bottom when everyone else is wearing the skinny leg pant.
* Unexplained silliness or giddiness.
This may be due to increased caffeine consumption while shopping. Or, seeing the pretty red shoe on my foot and trying to think of all the things I could wear with it. Ahh, like floating on a cloud!
* Paranoia -- suspiciousness.
What if the sale ends before I get there?
* Excessive need for privacy; keeps door locked or closed, won't let people in.
No, I will not show you how fat I look in this dress. And don't come in while I'm changing, I need to do laundry and I'm wearing granny underwear.
* Chronic dishonesty.
I didn't spend that much...
* Unexplained need for money; can't explain where money goes; stealing.
The need for money I can see, but I've never stolen a thing. Finally, a sign that my problem isn't as serious as it could be.
* Unusual effort to cover arms, legs.
Duh!
* Change in personal grooming habits.
I would hope that buying new clothing would encourage snazzier style.
* Possession of drug paraphernalia.
The only drug paraphernalia I can think of are crisp $100 bills.