|tulip in full sun|
Where, on this thrifting blog, one might ask, did all the secondhand objects go right around the time the blog received its first bit of publicity (thanks, Anna!)? Why instead is the blogger posting pictures of bread and buildings and shadows and flowers and ranting about the class struggle? Good questions.
Part of it is that I write and photograph what I'm actually doing and thinking. This is real life, edited. Part is that don't want to overthink this blogging practice with too much planning or editing since blogging should more or less be spontaneous in the way of an e-mail or travel journal (Web + log)—more impromptu than a peer-reviewed article but less than a text or tweet. Written communication is going the way of the haiku, by the way, only with less reflection: Here's what I said (tweet)! Look what I saw (Instagram)! Where are we going for dinner (FB)? And part of it is that right now I'm looking for additional work, which rarely puts me in a good mood because self-marketing is hard for an introvert, though we're usually the most productive employees, or so says Susan Cain.
The dirty not-so-secret of the secondhand market is that many people in the market, hipsters and their Halloween costumes aside, don't have other options. It is one thing to experiment with curbing consumption by choice, a noble act, and another thing to arrest nonessential purchases because the bank account is low. So I haven't been going to Goodwill much lately. And yes, I could and will photograph more of my stuff, but at present my mind's on résumés and cover letters and job boards, my hair standing on end over postings specifying higher hourly wages for office-assistant duties requiring an A.A. degree than what I earn as a college instructor. I so have the wrong letters after my name—anybody want to trade?
(Note to self: Research to see if anybody credible is working on a time machine that can send you back to the date when you selected your major. Then write in all-caps on a piece of paper to tuck in your pocket before you enter the machine: "DON'T GET AN ENGLISH DEGREE! NOTHING FROM THE HUMANITIES! Computer Engineering, Accounting, Nursing—all okay! Otherwise, oh lover of truth and beauty, you will become penniless and self-aware!")
I need to go cool down now in a quiet place. My apologies.
Here I offer
singing flowers and bright words,
though some drip red.