My sister has officially let this pact expire, seeing as how it's 2012 and how I was completely incapable of blogging just once a month about my endeavors into low-impact living. But I'm still working within the frameworks of last year's vow to only purchase used items in my seemingly never ending acquisition of material items.
Let me begin by outlining my many failures last year. In a truly devastating series of events, I have been through four laptops since May of 2011. You read that correctly--four computers in less than one calendar year. Not only has this obliterated me financially, it's made it rather difficult to maintain my promise to buy used, especially when the clock is ticking and a new computer is the only thing that will solve the problem.
INCIDENT #1: To be expected. My four-year-old adorable white MacBook bit the dust. The logic board went south, and despite great attempts to rescue it and the contents of its hard drive, I had to give up the ghost. Problem was, I was finishing arrangements for a concert in Colorado... that was happening a week later.
I turned to the refurbished section of the Apple Store online and sent myself my first aluminum MacBook Pro. Sweet. Concert went off without a hitch (well, I did forget the music for my dad/guitarist, but luckily the pianist had the scores both in hard copy AND on his iPad--another score for tablets!), and I was the proud owner of a new, expensive piece of equipment.
INCIDENT #2: To be avoided. Computer issues seem to occur when there's absolutely no way it could be convenient or even reasonably annoying. That's generally true for me as my entire career (and, for that matter, my entire social life as I've recently moved to the opposite coast of the country while my beloved remains out east--Skype, anyone?) is on the computer.
So when my sweet, adorable, soft, loving, awful, terrible, want-to-kick-him-in-the-belly cat decided that in the five minutes I was away from the computer, conspicuously leaving my hard cider a foot from the keyboard--as I was PACKING TO MOVE TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE NATION--he was going to ruin my life, I was not prepared. At this point, my MBP was only six months old. And now it was dead. No choice on this one--if I was going to leave on time and arrive in Los Angeles with any semblance of my life in order, I had to have a new laptop and I had to have one NOW.
Hear that? That's the sound of my savings that I'd put away for the move being flushed down the toilet on another new MPB. No refurbs here--I went to the Apple store, cried while swiping my credit card, and walked out with a new computer. #FAIL
INCIDENT #3: Not to be believed. Making the move to LA was difficult enough, but what actually transpired put me in a tail spin I never expected. My housing situation was less than ideal, and although I was rooming with the friend of a friend, there were a lot more complications than anyone could have imagined. I was not sleeping because of extenuating circumstances in the house itself, and I was under tremendous stress because of all this.
Then, one evening when I was out auditioning, my roommate left the house for the first time in two weeks... and left the door unlocked. Guess what was missing when I returned?
The thieves did not take my roommate's MacBook sitting on her desk or her brand new iMac in her bedroom. They took my laptop--which I had recently sealed from water damage with a very expensive and difficult-to-intall military-grade plastic shield--and the purse (which had a MBP in it as well) of my roommate's friend who had left it at the house. Very, very strange.
But it gets better! Because the next day, again when I was auditioning, my roommate's employee left the door open and unlocked, and guess what?? All my jewelry and my pain medication (the only thing getting me through the day at this point) was taken! And funnily enough, nothing of my roommate's was taken. Nothing.
So in a matter of hours, I lost about $8000. And although the computer is replaceable, I also lost about 10 days of work that I hadn't backed up (public service announcement: BACK YOUR DATA UP DAILY!). Most disappointing, I lost all the jewelry I had just inherited from my Italian grandmother--pieces of hers and her sister's that they had kept safe during a brutal war which left my great aunt schizophrenic and my grandmother agoraphobic. Gone, gone, gone.
I asked a good friend who has unfortunately been ripped off several times--bikes, computers, you name it--what advice she had to share going forward. She wrote, "Sadly, the only advice I have is not to get too attached to material things. That and always back up your computer on a hard drive that you don't keep out on the kitchen table for those who meander through your front door (or window). Other than that, the only thing to do is practice letting go of the anger and fear and instead focus on the relief of having been robbed of material goods without any physical or long-term psychological damage done. But, oh, dear."
So all that is to say that my lessons in Buddhism are being met with fierce resistance. This should be the perfect opportunity to "let go," and all I want to do is grip tighter.
As luck would have it, when this all happened I was also writing music for an upcoming show, so it wasn't long before I was back in the Apple Store online, crying and looking for a refurb. A tech savvy friend recommended the Air this time, so I bought the refurbished Air from which I am writing to you now. There was a financing special available, so I took advantage of that. I may have another credit card bill every month, but at least I'm 90% finished writing my new show. A little worse for the wear, but recovering day by day.
I was able to escape the bad housing situation fairly quickly after this whole mess, and I found a room that's reasonably comfortable to stay in through the spring. It's been furnished by a Craiglist-purchased desk and an abandoned dresser. I coughed up $400 and bought a mattress* because the two weeks I spent on the borrowed air mattress--coupled with my lack of pain meds--was giving me migraines so bad I couldn't function. The best/worst part of the bed purchase is that it's my favorite place in the world right now. So much so that I don't want to get out of it most days.
I've managed to drag myself out of the house to visit some of LA's best thrift stores. I found three amazing evening gowns and three cute dresses, all used, for $150 total. I'll be sporting those frocks in my upcoming performances and my appearance at an awards show next month (at which I am a nominee). I'm doing my best to make good environmental choices. And really, what's not to love about vintage threads?
Maybe the lesson in all of this--the not-buying-new and the burglary--is a reminder of life's impermanence, both on a personal and a global level. Joni Mitchell said it best: "Oh, don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. They paved paradise, put up a parking lot."
*I bought the mattress new as well. There are things about which I simply draw a line in the sand, and where I lay my delicate head to rest each night is one of them. Plus, the whole bed bugs epidemic makes me feel creepy crawly all over just thinking about it. And then of course there's this side of buying a used mattress. G-r-o-s-s.
Showing posts with label buy used. Show all posts
Showing posts with label buy used. Show all posts
Monday, March 19, 2012
Monday, January 24, 2011
It's Only January 24th
And I already spent two hours last night searching for handbags online.
This makes me sound like more of a shopper than I really am. The truth is I'm a bargain hunter. I want the most for my money, and I want my money to speak my politics.
That's why I was at least looking at vegan/eco-friendly handbags from Urban Expressions and Reveal. I went so far as to put one ruby red beauty in my virtual shopping cart, applied the discount... and closed my laptop.
I'm not going to buy it.
Neither is my sister. We made a pact to see if we could go an entire year without purchasing anything new. Now clearly that doesn't apply to consumables (and presumably underwear), but otherwise I'm trying to stick to this promise.
Like many Americans, I indulge in retail therapy. After an innervating day at work yesterday, all I wanted was to feel the excitement of ordering a new goody, eagerly awaiting its arrival, if for no other reason than just to supplant the feelings of isolation at my job. The logic follows as so: Even if the ladies I work with hate me, they couldn't possibly hate such a cute purse.
That's not really true either. I was just shopping to make myself feel better because I am unhappy at work. And that's a lousy reason to contribute to the collective consumerist attitude that pervades our first world culture.
I really don't need anything. I'd like a pan to bake bread in, but that's about it. I am overflowing with shoes, clothes, bags, jewelry. I now even find I'm overflowing in furniture. For the first time in my life, I have my own little apartment, and my darling friends helped furnish my new digs with a great couch, a shabby chic dresser, and several cool shelves. I bought myself a vintage bedroom set off of Craigslist. It's a gorgeous blonde modern trio with a tall dresser, sleek vanity, and asymmetrical nightstand.
The bedroom set represents what my sister and I really believe: Chances are whatever things you need/want already exist, and someone is probably looking to get rid of it. Why not give it a new home and save the planet while you're at it? Well-made, long lasting pieces like my bedroom set have often been abandoned because they come from estate sales where families just didn't have room for another set of furniture. Their loss is my gain, and I can gain without feeling guilty for contributing to the harrowing "stuff" problem facing our world.
When I think about the fact that the U.S. consumes 30% of the world's resources, I feel just awful. It's almost paralyzing because I know full well how much I already contribute to that. I have car. I live alone. I hope someday to have a child. All of those things place a strain on already strained natural resources.
But I try, as I said before, to let my politics speak through my purchases. When I moved, I bought my bed and table off of Craigslist. I snagged a cute chair from the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. With a little help from another friend, I converted the dresser given me into a cabinet that houses my cat box, cat food, and cat litter. Who says American ingenuity is dead??
No matter how many boxes of organic cotton panty liners or compostable garbage bags I buy, I can't offset my carbon footprint if I continue to purchase stuff.
Twenty-four days in, and I've already failed.
I was at Target, the shopaholic's equivalent of an alcoholic's all-you-can-drink wrist band. Target just seems... cool. Hell, my mother calls it "Tar-jay Boutique." I've gotta hand it to their marketing people. You'd think we were all buying the latest iPods, but instead we're flocking to stores to stock up on toilet paper and Mr. Coffee makers. (I share fellow blogger Michelle K. Collins' Target sentiments.)
Image aside, Target often has great prices on essentials, and their grocery department has particularly good deals on natural brands like Kashi, Cascadian Farm, and Mother's.
Plus I had a gift card.
I started in the accessories department, checking out the clearance items (who pays full price for anything?), and before long I'd picked up a purse size umbrella (at half-price) and kept holding onto it. After all, who needs a basket or a cart when you're not buying anything?
I wandered into the Intimates section, searching for a cotton bra to wear during my summer travels (Note to readers: don't backpack across Europe with synthetic fiber undergarments. You will regret it. And note to bra manufacturers: If you can come up with a 34D cotton/spandex non-sports bra, I will love you forever.).
I spent a long time contemplating socks. I have maybe half a dozen pairs of bamboo/rayon socks, but they quickly slide into the heel of my shoes, so I was looking for replacements. Every pair at this particular Target was made in China, which I steer clear of because of human rights offenses in that nation. I abandoned socks and moved on to other aisles.
Aimlessly wandering to kill time on my break, I looked at cashews, at photo frames, at Armor All and suitcases. Pretty much anything I could have occasion to use I can find at Target. If I didn't leave soon, I knew I'd walk out with a lot less resolve than I went in with.
It was too late.
I could justify the umbrella purchase by saying that it's a whopping 15 degrees outside today, and should this cold spell turn into sleet as it did last week, I would be prepared without having to add a bunch of weight to my bag.
But really, I have two umbrellas--one in my car, and one in my closet. I didn't really need a third one. Before I even got out of the car, I tore the tag off! What's wrong with me?? I could have returned it!
I had really fallen prey to the promises of retail therapy. And although I did get a great deal on it, I bought something I didn't need. And I didn't feel that much better.
Somehow, I did refrain from buying hangers at Target, something I legitimately could use as I have three dresses I bought at the thrift store right after Christmas still folded on my dresser. I remembered that someone on Freecycle was giving 50 plastic hangers away and reminded myself to post a wanted ad when I got home.
This morning, I began this blog. I hope it helps me stay honest about the pact with my sister, and I hope its readers will be inspired to consume less and reuse more. I hope to post resources on lower impact living and to keep myself motivated to find creative solutions to my every day problems. This is also a trial run for a new year's resolution to write for an hour every day.
Sounds like I have a lot to work on.
This makes me sound like more of a shopper than I really am. The truth is I'm a bargain hunter. I want the most for my money, and I want my money to speak my politics.
That's why I was at least looking at vegan/eco-friendly handbags from Urban Expressions and Reveal. I went so far as to put one ruby red beauty in my virtual shopping cart, applied the discount... and closed my laptop.
I'm not going to buy it.
Neither is my sister. We made a pact to see if we could go an entire year without purchasing anything new. Now clearly that doesn't apply to consumables (and presumably underwear), but otherwise I'm trying to stick to this promise.
Like many Americans, I indulge in retail therapy. After an innervating day at work yesterday, all I wanted was to feel the excitement of ordering a new goody, eagerly awaiting its arrival, if for no other reason than just to supplant the feelings of isolation at my job. The logic follows as so: Even if the ladies I work with hate me, they couldn't possibly hate such a cute purse.
That's not really true either. I was just shopping to make myself feel better because I am unhappy at work. And that's a lousy reason to contribute to the collective consumerist attitude that pervades our first world culture.
I really don't need anything. I'd like a pan to bake bread in, but that's about it. I am overflowing with shoes, clothes, bags, jewelry. I now even find I'm overflowing in furniture. For the first time in my life, I have my own little apartment, and my darling friends helped furnish my new digs with a great couch, a shabby chic dresser, and several cool shelves. I bought myself a vintage bedroom set off of Craigslist. It's a gorgeous blonde modern trio with a tall dresser, sleek vanity, and asymmetrical nightstand.
The bedroom set represents what my sister and I really believe: Chances are whatever things you need/want already exist, and someone is probably looking to get rid of it. Why not give it a new home and save the planet while you're at it? Well-made, long lasting pieces like my bedroom set have often been abandoned because they come from estate sales where families just didn't have room for another set of furniture. Their loss is my gain, and I can gain without feeling guilty for contributing to the harrowing "stuff" problem facing our world.
When I think about the fact that the U.S. consumes 30% of the world's resources, I feel just awful. It's almost paralyzing because I know full well how much I already contribute to that. I have car. I live alone. I hope someday to have a child. All of those things place a strain on already strained natural resources.
But I try, as I said before, to let my politics speak through my purchases. When I moved, I bought my bed and table off of Craigslist. I snagged a cute chair from the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. With a little help from another friend, I converted the dresser given me into a cabinet that houses my cat box, cat food, and cat litter. Who says American ingenuity is dead??
No matter how many boxes of organic cotton panty liners or compostable garbage bags I buy, I can't offset my carbon footprint if I continue to purchase stuff.
Twenty-four days in, and I've already failed.
I was at Target, the shopaholic's equivalent of an alcoholic's all-you-can-drink wrist band. Target just seems... cool. Hell, my mother calls it "Tar-jay Boutique." I've gotta hand it to their marketing people. You'd think we were all buying the latest iPods, but instead we're flocking to stores to stock up on toilet paper and Mr. Coffee makers. (I share fellow blogger Michelle K. Collins' Target sentiments.)
Image aside, Target often has great prices on essentials, and their grocery department has particularly good deals on natural brands like Kashi, Cascadian Farm, and Mother's.
Plus I had a gift card.
I started in the accessories department, checking out the clearance items (who pays full price for anything?), and before long I'd picked up a purse size umbrella (at half-price) and kept holding onto it. After all, who needs a basket or a cart when you're not buying anything?
I wandered into the Intimates section, searching for a cotton bra to wear during my summer travels (Note to readers: don't backpack across Europe with synthetic fiber undergarments. You will regret it. And note to bra manufacturers: If you can come up with a 34D cotton/spandex non-sports bra, I will love you forever.).
I spent a long time contemplating socks. I have maybe half a dozen pairs of bamboo/rayon socks, but they quickly slide into the heel of my shoes, so I was looking for replacements. Every pair at this particular Target was made in China, which I steer clear of because of human rights offenses in that nation. I abandoned socks and moved on to other aisles.
Aimlessly wandering to kill time on my break, I looked at cashews, at photo frames, at Armor All and suitcases. Pretty much anything I could have occasion to use I can find at Target. If I didn't leave soon, I knew I'd walk out with a lot less resolve than I went in with.
It was too late.
I could justify the umbrella purchase by saying that it's a whopping 15 degrees outside today, and should this cold spell turn into sleet as it did last week, I would be prepared without having to add a bunch of weight to my bag.
But really, I have two umbrellas--one in my car, and one in my closet. I didn't really need a third one. Before I even got out of the car, I tore the tag off! What's wrong with me?? I could have returned it!
I had really fallen prey to the promises of retail therapy. And although I did get a great deal on it, I bought something I didn't need. And I didn't feel that much better.
Somehow, I did refrain from buying hangers at Target, something I legitimately could use as I have three dresses I bought at the thrift store right after Christmas still folded on my dresser. I remembered that someone on Freecycle was giving 50 plastic hangers away and reminded myself to post a wanted ad when I got home.
This morning, I began this blog. I hope it helps me stay honest about the pact with my sister, and I hope its readers will be inspired to consume less and reuse more. I hope to post resources on lower impact living and to keep myself motivated to find creative solutions to my every day problems. This is also a trial run for a new year's resolution to write for an hour every day.
Sounds like I have a lot to work on.
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