A story.
Today, Kristy and I joined her friend Alex and her boyfriend for a delightful brunch at what seems to be our favourite non-Kits haunt, The Wallflower, on Main Street. After our scrumptious vegan/gluten-free/everything-involving-meat-and-cheese (guess who got what...) meals, we lackadaisically perused some of the nearby shops on Main.
Next door to the Wallflower: a tiny but kickass comic shop that definitely warrants my more regular attention. And just what treasure do I stumble across there?
THIS. This obnoxiously adorable stuffed Bantha from Star Wars.
This was me:
But, then my stupid superego kicks in.
"Now Kevin," it croaked, "Do you REALLY need another stuffed animal? As in, another addition to your already vastly excessive army of stuffed animals? Aren't you trying to save money for more grown-up things, like your trip to France? Or your flight back to Ontario? Or... y'know... food and rent?"
"Shut up superego! Didn't you hear me, circa Agnes from Despicable Me? I'm. Gonna. DIE! This is a matter of life and death!!"
"Kevin. You're 24 years old. You should be devoting your money to more grown up things. Like saving for a hip replacement or something."
"SHADDAP STUPID SUPEREGO YOU DON'T KNOW MEEEEEEEEE."
Needless to say, in a surprising plot twist, despite the bleating of my inner voice, and Kristy totally joining forces with it ("Kevin, are you really going to say goodbye to your friend? And leave him on that cold shelf all alone?"), my superego won out, and my Bantha friend was left on the shelf. Cold and alone. And we pressed on to the next shop, me brushing a single tear from my eye. So this is what growing up and resisting childish impulse buys felt like. I wish I could say I felt proud and responsible and shit. But really I just kept thinking of how much cozier I would be in the chilly Vancouver winter wind if I had a Bantha friend snuggled up with me under my coat.
So, we press on to the clothing store across the street. Kristy buys this shirt on a mega sale, which was a triumphant find.
Now we both have matching Calvin and Hobbes referencing t-shirts, and can be obnoxiously couple-costume-y, and the like. Yes, all seemed to be well in the world.
Except Bantha.
So, just when we're about to leave, Kristy stumbles across a coat. And not just any coat. THE coat, according to her. A coat that looks stylish as all get-out on the outside, and feels like a sheep on the inside. Kristy quickly falls madly in love with this coat. All other coats are ruined for her.
This soul mate of a coat, however, is not cheap. And Kristy promptly engages in the same ferocious battle with her superego. And, like me, her superego wins out, and she leaves, bidding a sad farewell to her coat friend. Both of us are feeling staunchly non-impulse-buy-y, and should be feeling rather proud, and money-savvy. But instead, we're both silently being sad, and feeling a distinct lack of fluffiness in our lives.
So we take the bus home, and, despite our best efforts, both begin lamenting our lack of Banthas and dream coats. We both try to console each other - surely we can sleep on it, consider whether this is just a case of capitalism sinking its fiendish hooks into us, and whether we actually really want these consumer products, or are just ensnared in the luster of their immediacy.
We get home.
"Maybe we could take a quick trip back to Main St. tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow? What about tonight...?"
So, within a few hours, despite our best attempts to be restrained, responsible adults, we've quickly devolved into this:
The point, I think, if I have any, is that it's important to pick your inner battles. Yes, it is important to not give in to every silly impulse buy, and to BE responsible, and money-conscious, and grown up, and whatnot. Stopping and deeply considering the validity of our desires was admirable. But it's also important sometimes to really keep in touch with that inner kid, who knows with every fiber of his or her being, that maybe this is a special thing, and worth indulging in, and 'treatin' yoself'.
As Kristy said, "We don't need to eat for the rest of the week, right?"
This story doesn't yet have a resolution, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if it ends with us back at Main St. tonight or tomorrow, eagerly awaiting reuniting with our fluffy friends. And if it does, at least at this rate we've established it will be a happy ending.
So: you're probably yearning for a fact at this rate, aren't you? TOO BAD. PLEASE, NO GANG SIGNS.
Nah, throw it up. I'm kidding.
This is a sad fact, unfortunately, so consider revisiting the exuberance of the beginning of this post afterwards to pep your spirits back up.
Bit of a sober counterbalance to our absurdly first world problems here, n'est pas? The world can be a very sad place, and is now all the sadder through being more rhino-deprived. But still: all the more reason to take comfort in the (non-rhino-poaching-related) fluffiness we can get, is it not?
But, there is a happy ending, even here: guess what tonight is?
That's right! It may not be Thursday, but it is THOR'S DAY!
(Guffaw).
And, as I've been fiendishly excited to see my favourite Marvel Norse God take on The Dark World for quite some time, AND as Kenneth Branagh's Thor might be a case study for one of my thesis chapters, this is kind of a big deal, both for fun and for work purposes.
Kristy, of course, has been diligently preparing by watching all things Tom Hiddleston-related. Y'know - for science. This is my personal favourite out of all of them.
And, just in case that hasn't warmed your heart enough, there's always Meet The Sloths, which Kristy just showed me. Yup, my heart just exploded. You guessed it: with fluffiness.
Friend-Becky, why aren't you as cool as this Becky? And by that, I mean why don't you speak sloth. Jus' sayin'.
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