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Reclaiming the Heart of Christmas

“Welcome to the Eastern Iowa Airport,” a big-brother-like loudspeaker exclaimed. Then that generic male voice droned on about watching your bags and reporting suspicious activity. Despite the boring interjection that repeated unnervingly in my ear for about 6 hours (I was a wee bit early), I knew I was flying home for the holidays — that’s all that mattered.

The quaint, small-town airport was filled with Christmas trees and holiday garb. Personally, I loved the colors and lights. People tended to be cheerier and friendlier — saying “happy holidays” and “merry christmas” in the place of “what the heck are you doing blocking my way to ‘Zone 2’ of this aircraft?”

Airports are the perfect place to people-watch — holidays amplify the eccentricity! A woman wearing a pink jumpsuit walked by with bells on her feet — each step providing jingles to everyone around her (whether they wanted it or not). A big-bellied man yelled and paced around the hallways, which made me wonder if this person needed a psychological intervention. His frustrations and screams were broadcast across the terminal. Then, I got a glimpse of his microscopic earpiece. My mind settled on him being “sane, but needing a cease and desist order.”

In between auditory assaults, I sought respite in a book about “vandwelling” and paying for graduate school on a shoestring budget. My phone grabbed at me to answer various travel plans and requests. When I put down the visual stimuli, reading material, and the fellow travelers quieted, my mind raced and face flushed for embarrassment: I hadn’t purchased a single present for my family.

I filled with dread, and puzzled how I’d fix this apparent problem. I realized I had no idea what people wanted, anyways. I’m away from family at large stretches of time, and there’s nothing that can supplement regularly seeing people in person. Frankly, I felt out of the loop.

The last couple years, I’ve been a sorry contributor to colors under the tree. While my family understands my small bank account (net worth: ~$500), and I recognize that I hate the consumer/consumption focus of the holidays, I’m still affected by the expectations of gift-giving. I want to provide happiness and laughter to those around me — to be liked and care for others. I want to see glistening eyes — appreciative because I got something that speaks to their passion, interest, and love.

When I finally arrived at my parents house, I asked my mom what I should get everyone. I confessed that I hadn’t purchased anything, and she nearly interrupted me before I could finish the sentence. “Oh, we are in the same boat, it’s going to be a small Christmas. I have no idea what to get anybody either,” she said.

I smiled at the irony of the holiday. If you looked in the newspaper, watched television, and/or surfed the web (sans ad blocker) — without knowing the true meaning of the holidays — you’d think it was merely another sale season where capitalistic pressures stress consumption for self and others. We know Macy’s, Nordstrom, and Dillard’s all have sales. We know Claus-laden Christmas cards of red and green will occupy the aisles of grocery stores.

As humans affected by these messages, my mother and I were both feeling the strain of not knowing what to get everyone, but also feeling compelled to do so. Frankly, it felt stupid that we were bucking the internal messages (buy less) for the external scripts (buy endlessly), which are nearly built-in now.

My favorite Christmas memory was not the year that I unwrapped a remote-control car. My favorite Christmas memory was not the packs of baseball cards I’d requested. My favorite Christmas memory was not the cast-iron skillet, which I have yet to understand how to use (sorry, mom!). No, at the heart of Christmas and my current state of happiness is that I’m home and around family. I’m too happy about what I currently have to care about meeting the demands of our conspicuous economy.

Now, watch this ridiculous video and have a wonderful holiday!

You Know What Would Be Nice?

By Frugaling 6 Comments

Ikea Store Nice! — *I like Ikea a lot, but this place makes me think, “You know what would be nice?” Photo: Håkan Dahlström/Flickr*

A dendritic response arcs across my brain, as a firing of emotional and processing centers make me think, “You know what would be nice?” It’s the beginning of a dangerous game for me; at times, that question begets rampant spending.

“You know what would be nice” is a phrase that envisions the bigger picture, better future, and more attractive self. It encapsulates my desire for nicer clothes, electronics, furniture, etc. I can see and feel how an iPhone 6 might complete my left pant pocket. The svelte thickness and aluminum texture captivate me in these moments.

“You know what would be nice” is the reason Ikea, Target, and other big-box retailers exist. They perfected the art of the ensemble. It wasn’t enough to get/have a couch; now, you needed the accoutrements. They suggest “what would be nice” and show you the pairing. Their catalogs and stores are expertly laid out to exemplify an orgiastic group of accessories.

A small rug could complement the dining room. That watch would make this outfit POP. This lamp shade would make my room cozier. This shirt would be great for a night out.

“You know what would be nice” is the dream hypothetical that only lives in marketers’ models. Realizing this is one of the most painful lessons in consumerism. No matter how many “nice” things I own, the question will continue to putz around my little mind — craving me to cave and spend.

I’m not sure when I started saying this phrase. It’s led to horrible spending habits at certain times in my life. And I’ve heard others, mouths agape, vomit this treacherous line, too. The reality and solution is far simpler.

All we need to do is change the desired answer — a détournement to the prescribed answer. “You know what would be nice?” To be content with who I am today, the things around me, and the life I lead. “You know what would be nice?” To quiet the racing mind that suggests I need anything consumeristic to complete me. “You know what would be nice?” To make purchases out of necessity and enjoyment, rather than compulsion and marketing pressure.

You Aren’t Frugal Enough!

By Frugaling 21 Comments

The world currently exists in an infinite growth paradigm — an impossibility that will lead to the planet’s destruction if not curtailed — where increased production and consumption are desired. A pressure to work, spend, and consumptively “contribute” can come from both internal and external sources. This environment makes frugality challenging.

Individually, I struggle to save money, eat out less, and make healthy financial choices. It’s easy to pull out excuses: I’m tired, stressed, or too busy. This monologue pushes me to spend on items that should make me feel relaxed and content. They don’t. My precarious budget necessitates and encourages an alternative. Moreover, I’m motivated to reduce my environmental impact due to climate change. To consume is human (i.e., food), but to buy endlessly and without reason is disastrous. But I can’t say it’s easy, as I must be continually mindful of my spending. Mistakes happen when I’m not actively working at it. Last weekend I spent about $35 going out for food and drinks, in a moment of total unconscious spending.

Along with this self-promulgated racket, there are also social pressures that encourage spending. Society has certain expectations about wealth and success. Usually, achievement in the eyes of our capitalist system requires a paycheck of about $50,000 or more — with continual raises and bonuses. Income must also be spent conspicuously. In other words, you should find ways to spend on things that provide no material value — they just occupy space (i.e., larger cars, homes, and the crap to fill them).

If you aren’t making these purchases there can be a social reaction or rejection. This is where frugality gets messy. For instance, I tried a dating site that asked whether I owned a car. The question seemed innocuous enough, but upon further inspection I realized it was aimed at attractiveness. See, asking whether I had a car was meant to give information to potential women. They would be asked the same thing, but I could see many women’s profiles needed the man to have a car. It made me feel bad. Not having a car made me less attractive; an obvious societal pressure, which still felt unexpectedly horrible. I clearly wasn’t meeting the expectations of those on the site. I wished I owned a car momentarily.

It’s not just cars. Look at the phone in your pocket. If you’re a millennial, it’s likely a smartphone — mine is! When you see someone pull out a flip phone or a “brick,” you may judge that person’s income level and status — I have. But is that fair, right, or healthy?

The greatest challenge to my frugality has come from those who verbally question my decisions (fortunately, none of my friends 🙂 ). For example, there are people who tell me I’m not frugal enough or could/should be doing better. Essentially, they’re saying, “You’re trying to be frugal, but you haven’t met my expectations. If you really want to be frugal, you’d do this…” The other critique I receive is that my frugality hurts the economy. By reducing my consumption, I’m somehow not doing my part. When I more accurately reflect on these situations, I realize that something about my goals are creating a reactionary defensiveness in some people.

I’ve found that my method of talking about frugality and saving money greatly affects how safe others feel about their own choices. A spendthrift may inherently be insulted and/or self-conscious by my choices. What they don’t realize is that their social pressures (or critiques) can act on a healthy budget to encourage conformity and consumption.

Becoming more frugal isn’t without challenges — both internal and external. The frugal life isn’t always easy, but it certainly feels rewarding when done right.

I Visited The Mall Of America And Only Bought A Coffee

By Frugaling 16 Comments

Mall of America Consumption Junction — *Photo: Cliff/flickr*

About a month ago I decided to tag along with a good friend of mine to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Despite traveling through much of America, I’d never been to the land o’ lakes. It was time, and the price was right: free. My friend was going up there anyways and the passenger seat was empty.

I hemmed and hawed, thinking about my budget. In recent months I’ve become a bit mad about saving money. Heck, I’ve come undone by a mere $4 book that I avoided! But that militancy towards my budget has largely paid off. My savings has quickly ballooned.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to join in the fun and meet some new people. The drive, about five hours from Iowa City, Iowa to Minneapolis, Minnesota, is through some of the more fertile land in America. This is truly where our food comes from. Always a suburb or city-boy at heart, I quickly displayed my naivete when I incorrectly labeled corn stalks as, “ahhh, look at that, they’re growing soybeans!” Yeah, I was out of my element.

When we finally closed in on the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, I was pumped to be in this new city. Whenever I’m out of my home cities, I feel a powerful urge to be both anxious and excited — all at once. That rush was endless, as around every corner there was something new and different about the Twin Cities. I loved it!

Along the way, my friend said, “Is there anything you want to do in particular? Is there anything you really want to see?” With a wistful, targetless attitude, I suggested that I was open to anything, but had no idea where to go next. That’s when he said, “How about we check out the Mall of America?”

Instantly, this rush of excitement filled me. Think about all of the numerous shops and stores and restaurants! The Mall of America was founded in 1992 and has about 7,900,000 square feet of space, which is spread out between a shocking number of floors and land. Walking into this place, it’s like an amusement park; in fact, there’s one built-in to the mall!

I soon turned to my friend and said the most obvious thing I could think of, “This place is just made for people to consume and buy more stuff.” Clouded and in shock, I decided to walk into a coffee shop and imbibe a small one. The two of us, propped onto some cushy couches and people watched.

There were women barely wearing anything — bursting out of their skintight clothing. There were families battling for the next choice in destination. There were young people and old.

Finally, we decided it was time to go. As we made our departure, a family asked nearby shoppers to take a picture of them. They had one child in their stroller, who was saddled with bags upon bags of new clothing. In the middle of taking another picture — curiously positioned in front of an elevator — the child fell backwards, as the weight of the bags outweighed the young one.

I turned to my friend and couldn’t help laughing aloud. Here we were in consumption central, and someone had loaded this stroller so full of products that the child was no longer safe. Somehow it spoke to me. Why are we buying like this when we know that the environment is suffering and the total U.S. consumer debt stands at a whopping $11.4 trillion? The family, curiously, just propped the kid back up in the stroller and resumed the photos — bags still weighing down the stroller. They certainly put new meaning to the cliche, “Shop till you drop.”

Now, as Minneapolis develops a light rail system to and from the airport and city, those on an airport layover needn’t see the metropolis. Instead, you can just hop on the public transportation directly to the Mall and buy endlessly. You don’t even need to see the local culture!

Like surviving a crazy amusement ride, I feel like I need a t-shirt that says, “I went to the Mall of America and all I bought was a coffee.”

Reclaiming the Heart of Christmas

You Know What Would Be Nice?

I Visited The Mall Of America And Only Bought A Coffee

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