Showing posts with label madness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madness. Show all posts

Monday, November 9, 2009

iphone. Private. Do not read.

I think I need some clarity on this whole iphone photo etiquette thing. I personally think of my iphone photos as a private diary of my craziness that I will selectively show someone a small portion of.

However, every time I hand the phone over to prove that yes I did put a sequin bow tie on the pug and he liked it, people start flipping though ALL my photos. I guess I don't blame people, the iphone makes it all too easy and fun to do so. I actually blame myself for thinking people won't do that.

I never would, but that is probably because I take crazy embarrassing pictures with mine. They act like it is the most natural thing in the world and I just want to snatch it out of their hands and scream "NOOOOO" but I'm the dumb ass who handed it over so that wouldn't be polite. Instead I go into a high pitched narration of what they are viewing as if that will make it more normal and understandable.

"Oh, I was trying to see if my makeup would show up in pictures."
"Um that is me taking a picture of my Kate Moss hair."
"Uh, I thought that pee stained fire hydrant was pretty."
"those are the pugs wearing sweaters."
"that is the pug and Rose wearing twin sweaters"
"Ah, that's a homeless woman trying to brush some amazing bed head hair."
"Yeah, that's funny (or not) because that guy is wearing all pink."
"yeah, um, that's me and my sister taking 'how fat are my thighs?' pictures"
"Oh, that's me trying to take before pictures of my wrinkles so I can see if the mushrooms are working."
"you take mushrooms?"
"yes, but not that kind, ok I need to erase these I'll just take that phone back now..."

I mean really! No unauthorized flipping! I know what it looks like, that's why I don't want you looking!
I'm aware that what I see as a social or fashion experiment others may see as a trip down the river narcissism. It is like I'm a teenager again having my inner most thoughts completely misunderstood.

Why am I too lazy to just erase the damn things. That, I think, is the real question.

Monday, September 7, 2009

In a land far far away but really very close and not far at all

I just had one of those moments where you catch a glimpse of yourself in an alternate universe or played the "what could have been" game.

I just watched that show, Hoarders, and I'm pretty sure somewhere in another dimension, behind the seventh veil or in dejavuville, I am on that show. People are watching me in horror and my family is giving sad and frustrated testimonials. Actually, probably only my mom would do it. Everyone else would decline to be on camera.

I must admit I feel a little itchy after watching the show. I'm pretty sure I can't watch it again because my COMPLETE understanding of the hoarders attachment to their things and their anthropomorphizing of their stuff made Newshead nervous. I could relate to the rationalization for keeping each item: "Oh that's a gift. That's a journal. That goes over here with the other 250 blank journals. Those are crosswords that I'm going to do."

Seriously, all the plans and good intentions for each item was eerily familiar. I was not the least bit surprised by their ability to recognize every little thing that was held before them, that in all that stuff (piles and piles of it) they never once said "I don't know what that is or where it came from." There is a story and a thought about everything, so of course it is hard to get rid of anything. I totally get it.

I usually am an advocate of the "who cares what people think" school of thought. This is one time where I think it helps. But I guess in fairness you have to not be crazy to know that it is kind of crazy.

I'm constantly looking around my apartment and picturing the person who has to go through my stuff if Newshead & I suddenly die. Why I would care, I don't know, but I do.
My goal is to keep the WTF moments to a minimum.

Right now I've organized all the unorganizable stuff into a "craft" section. I know they are a million little jars of madness but to the unknowing eye, I'm a crafter. That's nicer for my sister and/or brother to have to clean up. You are welcome.

Here's the thing. Hoarders wouldn't have to give up their stuff if it were better displayed. Stores have tons of shit and people love going there. Dare I say that once again it comes down to style?

And mental illness.
But also style.