Here I sit. Legs curled up and comfortably at the counter. I am indulging myself with the sweet delicacies of chocolate chip mint ice cream, in my pajamas that do not match, and probably never will.
Wow, isn't that considered pathetic? And yet, somehow, I am drawn to the bowl in which the melting goodness chills (literally).
Everytime I eat ice cream, I always use this same bowl: darn that Tweety face in the middle is so stinkin cute! Yet, it is just a bowl.
And this bowl I now routinely use, was once begged for by a young thirteen-year-old version of myself. Because I obviously had to have it. Come one, it's Tweety!
And so, my question is this: Do we own our possessions? Or do we sell our soul to them.
I have begun to hate any and all "things".
Let me explain myself.
I love shopping, as any girl does. I love spending other people's money. I love my new jeans. Who doesn't?
But, notice how I used the word "love" to describe things that cannot love me back.
RULE No. 1 IN CHRISTINA's BEST SELLING BOOK TITLED, "How Not to Sell Away Your Soul,"
Love is for 2 people, for people and nature, and for that warm fuzzy feeling you get on a great day; not for food, clothing, hair/makeup/television/cellphones/Oprah/Harry Potter, or any other object that cannot respond to you.
An example for the audience:
I witnessed a car accident about a week ago. The owner of the car couldn't give a rip about said vehicle. The "Dent Master," who backed into the car, practically thought the world was coming to an end. And it ruined the DentMaster's day. Completely.
That car was mine. And I still couldn't care less if there were 50 dents and if it were spray painted with graffitti that said "loser" cuz it would just give me more the reason to change the "s" to a "v" and my car would be a hippie van and all would be well. As long as it took me where I needed to go, I would be happy. But you know what, everyone else seemed to care a whole lot more than I did. They don't even have to drive the piece of crap!
As I recall, the incident affected fathers and mothers, with stressed talk of insurance and claiming it and blahblahblahhhhh. And I just sat there like, "Seriously, I don't care. It still drives." And the stupid car is still an issue.
I'm sorry, don't people matter more than cars? Doesn't "hello" and "goodbye" and "hey I hope you have a great day!" take place before "oh let me make some calls," "oh let me go sit and think about this alone," "oh I'm going to freak out about something thats already ugly"?
How about I light the dang car on fire, now what. Exactly, everyone would freak out even more. And why is that? Why is it such a big deal?
I remember being a little kid and accidentally breaking things and being so scared to tell anyone because I knew I'd get in big trouble. And honestly, nothing has really changed. If I still break something it's basically an even bigger deal than when I was little because now I should know better. I'm sorry, is there a rule that says older people can't be clumsy too?
Possessions stick their shiny little fancy noses up in the air and take presidence over everything else. They take away time that really could be better spent. They stress us out. They make us cry. They make us greedy. They make us steal. They make parents lie to their children about Santa. If that doesn't convince you than nothing will and you have no soul.
You know what, I just spent 200 of my own dollars on books for college today. I worked a long hard 200 dollars worth for those books. You think I'm gonna protect those books? Darn straight. But you know what, they're just books. They are paper and words that will most likely just be updated again next year. Do they really matter?
No.
But do possessions usually win?
Sadly, yes.
So what really matters?
People, relationships, other's well-being, happiness, faith, enjoyment, children, simplicity, music, warmth, positivity. And sweet, sweet Baskin Robbins ice cream.
So tell everyone you love that you love them. Because life's too short to argue with your mom at Walmart over a plastic bowl with cartoon characters, when people mean so much more than anything else ever could. Or else you might find yourself alone, in the night, just you and the bowl. Foreeeeeeever. Soul? Sold.
Don't let your Tweety bird bowl win today, or ever.
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