My home is adequate, not extravagant, decorated with nice, but not fancy, black leather recliner sofas and light wooden end/sofa tables so guests can kick up their heels in welcome comfort. Every wall hanging has its own unique purpose attached to a background of sentimental value and reflects some portion of my inner self—and not the self I assume others wish me to become. In all aspects, I accommodate for my personal living space, taking charge as master, not slave, since I am the one who chose the particular space.

My fashion sense is neither designer nor faux pas, yet suits my mood rather than seeking to impress the masses. My modest vehicle is kept regularly serviced and reliably transports family members to their various destinations. But the point I’m driving toward here is that I am a selective purchaser. Whether in times of feast or famine consumption does not consume me.

My substantiated motive for spending rides on survival or in creating memories of the vast world surrounding me. Self-fulfillment is achieved when spiritual, material, intellectual, emotional, physical, social, and financial balances all combine to establish a sense of security. They collectively prepare me to easily wade through any economic pitfalls that may arise. Self-reliance makes good when resources fail to be available endlessly. Rather than an uphill swing during feast, and a downhill sway during famine, I am comfortable coasting along a steady route. What it all boils down to is that I validate needs versus wants continually and possess no envy for Susan.

She is never satisfied. So often, the items her desires use to build esteem go unappreciated or worse, unnoticed, once purchased. The “original” no longer fulfills; now she must obtain the “updated” or the “new and improved” version. One of this is not enough to accommodate that; another color, a varying size, a bigger screen, etc. becomes the necessity of the day. But eventually all the craved possessions piling into life’s garage begin to fade, deteriorate, crack, wear out, suffer damage, get stashed away in unmarked boxes, turn up missing, and fall victims of donation or replacement.

And in lies the vicious cycle of consumption. Susan will more than likely continue her favored pattern of behavior while successfully pursuing the old consumer rule. But for now, I’m perfectly satisfied living as the one (and possibly only) exception…the “new normal.”

Look at dating: what do we do for our courtship rituals? We go “out”–for dinner, to a movie. We spend. Look at weddings. People drop tens of thousands of dollars on a ONE-DAY event. Not to mention what we spend on engagement rings.

It’s not our fault. We don’t know anything else. But Americans–I would argue more than any people in the history of the world–don’t know how to feed themselves (how to hunt, gather, and farm); they don’t know how to entertain themselves; they don’t even know how to connect with one another in ways that are not mediated by monetary currency.

The things that is disturbing and I feel does require slight criticism is this line, “Americans are especially interested, for several technical reasons, in using the object world, their material culture, to [define themselves].” I believe this to be true in the general case of Americans, which is awful. Surely if we were intelligent human beings we would want to be defined by, what we know, how we treat people we love, how we treat people we don’t love. These are truly the basis of human character.

So it may not be my place to pass judgment on Susan, but for the broad statement of America’s desire to consume, that could use a little work.