Internet lust

For the last two days I've been lusting over a Lucky Bourbon colored Abbey Road style crossbody handbag. It's stylish. It's "imported Italian leather." It's stitched and lays over like it's from the old ages. http://www.zappos.com/lucky-brand-abbey-road-bourbon

Perhaps it's just a touch of Italy. My secret DRIVE to move to Tuscany. Or it's a vacation to another side of me. An illusion of the non-mommy me. It's ME without the diaper bag. It's me falling in love with an illusion. I can be cute for just $178.  For $178 I can have this soft, stitched, rugged grandpa bag-looking-carry-along friend.

In fact, I visit it daily. It says "hello" on my Iphone and on my computer. I have also passed it along to friends and family members. And, I've searched for bags "just like it." But none have it's luster. None seem to tell it's story in the same way.

My parsimonious side reined. I've left the bag alone. And, I've settled for the teal Mossimo Target-brand tote for $30. It's not the $178 price tag of the Lucky bag and there's no guilt attached to spending. And, I can abuse it. It fits snugly. It's fine.

But, I lust over this silly purse. Last night I did my research and found the illusion was in fact, just that. The product is flawed.

The Lucky bag had 90 reviews. I read them all. Three people said their bags broke. Every reviewer considered the bag for a long time, some even years before buying it and "loving" it.

I did the same thing last night on the Victoria Secret website winter clearance section. Boots, for $30, not $148. But, minutes after I put them "in my cart," the size nine boots were "sold out." I considered it a sign to move on and not purchase the multiple "deals."

I was falling in love with an image. I was being seduced by the want to look like the woman in the pictures.  She is carefree. Beautiful. I can be her for just $30.

Last night I had a dream about an elevator. The elevator dream. I have this every time there's about to be a big change, a job change, a move or a difficult emotional time when I usually feel a lack of control.

Perhaps, that's why I am attracted to the Internet shopping sales or non-sales. It's an illusion of "control."  With one click, I can have that image. It's mine. So easy, right?

In this elevator dream I am trapped. A little like the real-life event when I was nine trapped inside the First Baptist Houston elevator for a long three minutes. The door just never opened. I agonized about whether to push the open door button for fear of seeing just machinery. Would that scare me more? I pushed door open and it opened. It was the most terrifying experience.

I didn't ride alone in elevators until I was in college. Even in the state history fair competition at a hoity toity Houston hotel, I asked a stranger to ride up to the 8th floor with me at the age of 12. I think the ghetto elevators at UH cured me. Fourteen floors a day with elevators that sometimes open and sometimes kindof glide to the next floor wore me down.

In the elevator dreams sometimes the elevator separates from the sides and collapses. Or sometimes it turns over in circles like that Zipper carnival ride. Another "great" childhood experience.

Either way I'm trapped, dealing with claustrophobic feelings and heights and the loss of control. In my dream I wasn't alone, but I was with a stranger. This is new.

Also, coincidentally,  in my dream alongside my elevator rides, Oprah was challenging her viewers to just jump over the mile-high roof tops without a net for ratings. The participants were stepping over a one-inch gap jumping from roof to roof. No net over a zillion-foot high building.  Cameras rolling.

So many layers here. Perhaps it's why I dyed my hair red. It's something. One thing, I can control.

Dreams are weird. Sometimes they reflect creative aspirations. The need to fly. Sometimes the need to have control, like the dream I had with my teeth falling out.

And shopping on the Internet is an illusion of control too. Yet, in one click and you've lost a day's pay. The joys are temporary. The moment fills you up for a moment. Then, you get the bill.

Internet lust. An illusion.  A moving crossbody window shop experience. An elevator experience of it's own. Up and down. Moving me to feel like, for a moment I am what I am not. A different floor with the touch of a button. Yet, when I get there, the view isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Today I am taking more time to see what I can see in me. Right here. Away from the illusions. An original imperfect perfection.

And, Tuscany, well, I can create that dream here too.