Post Your Secret May 28, 2008
Posted by Christina in Musings.Tags: Post Secret
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It was post-lunch today and I had a hard time keeping my heavy eyelids open. Staring at the computer in my ittybitty cubicle was not helping. The best remedy for this is to putz around on the Internet until I’ve been suitably stimulated to carry on with the rest of work. This could take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour. Depending more on what fun things I find then how much more awake I get. Today, I ventured to Post Secret (people send in decorate post cards that tell a secret they’ve told no one before). I read their Sunday Secrets. A favorite: “I have a huge collection of pictures featuring random people’s coin slots.” And an arrow points down a skinny man’s backside to his coin slot.
Another: written next to two images of covers of Cosmo: “I’m waiting for a real magazine. The day there are headlines like ‘It’s OK to Have Sex with Strangers’ and ‘Being Chubby is OK’ I’ll subscribe.”
After a few minutes of chuckling, my eyelids are open enough for a little more work.
Museum of Broken Relationships April 10, 2008
Posted by Christina in Music, Musings.Tags: Celine Dion, despair, love, Musuem of Broken Relationships, Post Secret, tearfest, voyeur
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The Museum of Broken Relationships.
A sanctuary of heartache open in Croatia. Dozens of objects are on display, like letters, love tokens, t-shirts, even a prosthetic leg sent in by the lovelorn. Each is complete with descriptions regarding the failed romance. (One particular terse description of a little Nokia reads “It was 300 days too long. He gave me his mobile phone so I couldn’t call him any more.”) The founders say “it could be therapeutic for those with broken hearts.” Maybe. Or it could turn into a giant tearfest for the emotionally fragile.
I suppose there’s a certain amount of therapy in putting your personal life on display. Like weeping in front of a gaggle of strangers at the local mall’s food court when Celine Dion cries:
alllllllllll by myself
don’t wanna be
alllllllllllll by myself
anymore !
At least in the museum there’s anonymity. Hmmmm…I wonder what I’d donate? A few of his eye lashes. A lock of hair I keep in my gold, heart-shaped locket. Nah. I don’t think I could part with that. But I’d like to see what other people dug out of their closets. A trip to the museum would satisfy the voyeur in me I keep under wraps by refusing to let her watch reality TV. (I do allow the occasional jaunt to Post Secret.)
