The media made me do it

First of all, I'm too easily influenced by media. Oh, not in the ways that would matter all that much-- for example, I am so glad to not have television for no other reason than I avoid a good chunk of political ads each year. If I were to have to listen to one candidate blast the other every 30 seconds for months at a time, I'd likely defect to Europe and start my life as an expatriate. And I don't really feel that tuning into edited Eminem periodically is going to make me drink a fifth of vodka (what does that even mean? I have no concept of alcohol or its measurements). However, there are some ways that other media suck me in and don't let go.
For example, books. Even children's literature. About a week ago, I reread a sub-par retelling of "Rumplestiltskin." I thought the book was lame, and a little waste of time, but yesterday at Wal-Mart I found myself in the crafting department. I didn't plan on spinning straw into gold, but this version of the book had the young maiden working for the textile industry. So I bought some outrageous fabric and sewed myself a skirt before work this morning. I'm wearing it now. And don't think I fancy myself any kind of seamstress. It was that fabric that's gathered on top you basically just cut enough to go around your midsection, sew one seam, and pop it on. Mine is green with black polka dots. With my opaque tights and beribboned flats, I look like a little girl. I'm down with that.
And speaking of Wal-Mart, that brings up another medium that gets me much of the time-- advertising (truthfully, that might be the reason I went into PR and communications in general-- writing is fun, but writing something powerful enough to change behavior is intoxicating). Specifically, I fall prey to the attractive way stores display their goods. I went to Wal-Mart with my mom yesterday, mostly to get Zoey out of the house. That little monster wore me out yesterday! I didn't need anything, and I'm trying to save the little bit of money I have toward riding camels in Egypt and a shopping spree at H&M in Barcelona. But I got a cart to hold my heavy, Mary-Poppins-style bag (read: I carry the world in that purse, and it gets heavy). The Zo-Meister had fallen asleep, so I was carrying her on my shoulder, and I couldn't handle a purse as well. So I meandered, following my mom through the aisles as she picked up fire starters and doormats. Pretty soon I was confronted with the wall of humidifiers. And then I remembered, "I NEED one of those." Truthfully, I could justify that, because mine broke a couple weeks ago, and my skin is so darned dry that introducing moisture into my environment is a good idea. But did I really NEED the green fabric? I was proud of myself putting away a handful of $5 DVDs, but then I faltered when I found what I thought was a cute shirt (My sister's reaction? "Maybe if you're Amish!"). I bought it thinking, "Hey, it's from Wal-Mart. It speaks to the world and tells the good people I don't take myself so seriously that I can't look good in a $12 shirt. I can live without sales at Anthropologie." Long story short? The girl who walked into the evil empire with no intention of buying anything walked out with nearly a hundred dollars worth of merchandise (at least most of it was Lean Cuisine entrees and vegetables to steam). I am weak, and a shop-a-holic.