I have been locked in battle with myself of late about my wish to buy an iPod. Not just any old MP3 / music player mind you, it has to be an iPod. Months ago I thought that I might like one. I would walk out of stores convincing myself that such a frivolous purchase would add nothing to my happiness. Indeed, buying one would prove to me and world – as if you care – that I have become the consumer equivalent of the paedophile. Reviled by everyone for their shameless self-centredness and inability to detach my own desires from an object unashamedly declaring Designed in California, Made in China. In short, I would become like all those others who swan about with white ear buds. The folly.
Last week, on the couch of course, I finally decided that I will buy one. I deserve it, I told myself, why would anyone really care whether I have one or not. The question of deserving it finally having been answered by the sense that I am worth it. In the same way as I had no problem handing over E90 for my last pair of pants because I got satisfaction from them, I would make this purchase in the same way. Then I texted my brother: “when you bought your iPod at Christmas, did you ever think about the money you spent on it again?” His response was straightforward: buy it if you can afford it. No one else cares if you beat yourself up over this object, why should you? Guilt is a terrible thing, don’t let it eat you up.
I walked into the O2 store on Grafton Street yesterday. I ogled at the display of iPods there like a five year old in a sweet shop – the ones we never really had here in Ireland – and in the time that it takes to decide that E250 is too much money to spend? I walked out of the shop empty handed. So I want one but I don’t want one. Why not? Because then I would have to justify the purchase to myself in front of other people.
Tomorrow: why I would like an Asus EEE but cannot bring myself to spend the money.