Touchdown

I'm home, for better or for worse. Yesterday was my first offical day on U.S. soil in a long time. Honestly, I can't say it was exceptional, or the amazing homecoming I had dreamed of. Although, I did have a friend call me on the phone and tell me how glad she was I was back (Ellen did this, of course, because she's awesome and I truly love her), which touched me and reminded me why we've been friends for so long.

Yesterday, when I tried to post this epistle about something that happened in the O'Hare airport with this skinny guy and a group of Japanese tourists, my computer shut off and I lost everything I had written (I might try to reconstruct that later). In that very same post I had mentioned that, other than the aforementioned incident, I hadn't really felt overwhelmed by anything. That was at the beginning of yesterday. Now, not even twenty four hours later, I can't make that same statement. I have been overwhelmed. By advertising.

I promise not to make this into one of those rants against advertising and marketing that I've read so often on blogs. I'm saving all rants for something incredibley stupid Bush will say or do, which I'm sure is coming in the next few days or weeks.

I will, however, say that I find it just a bit odd that before I left Ukraine I didn't feel like advertising played any sort of role in my life. Sure, Ukrainians are advertising targets just like anyone else, especially if they live in Kyiv and do things like take the metro or have internet at home. Here, in the U.S. though, I can't escape advertisments unless I lock myself in a dark room and unplug myself completely from the internet or television.

For example, before I arrived home I had made an internal list of the things I felt like I needed to buy in the next few months (hopefully before I head to graduate school in the summer/fall). It looked something like this:

1. winter shoes/boots
2. a pair or two of pants
3. 3 or 4 shirts
4. a cell phone (my first one)
5. a new laptop

Now, after one 45 minute trip to Lindale Mall and a 30 minute trip to Best Buy (where I purchased a Sigur Rose album), I feel as though I need the following:

1. a pair of winter boots
2. 2 pairs of jeans
3. a pair or two of pants
4. 4 or 5 shirts
5. 2 or 3 sweaters
6. a cell phone
7. a new laptop
8. an ipod
9. Victoria Secret perfume
10. 2 or 3 bras
11. new underwear
12. a shitload of CDs
13. a nice digital camera with at least 5 megapixels
14. hi speed internet

Isn't that sick? The really weird part was I was conscious of this consumer spell I was falling under and I just sort of passively let it happen. I left the mall to go pick up my mother more than a little sad and disappointed in myself. I want all this stuff now and none of it will make me happy. None of it will help me get into graduate school. None of it will make me feel attractive or help me take off those damn 10 pounds I put on in Ukraine. None of it will help me feel like I'm making a contribution to the world. In fact it makes me feel exactly the same way it did before I left: like a stupid vacant immature chubby underachieving lump of a 29 year-old.

I'm sure this feeling will only get more potent as I make my way to the Mall of America in Minneapolis where I'll be attending my cousin's wedding reception and hopefully spending some quality time with Jake and Rosa. We're even staying by the Mall of America. Maybe I'll drop by for some more assimilation.