The Shiny New Toy Syndrome

It’s happening again.

There used to be three, and then there were two. Those of us left, we called it the Shiny New Toy Syndrome, the need for the newest model, the flashiest toy, with the brightest lasers and the glow-in-the dark plastic. No one ever lasted more than a few months, because he was always looking for that shiny new toy to play with. Being forgotten at a hotel just meant a new friend to play with, all for the price listed on the TV below. And those of us who were older models, we learned what the bottom of a toy box looked like all too well.

And it’s not like this was the first time this happened to me. I’m not exactly built to be limited edition, or the season’s must-have shelf stocker. I’m the teddy bear you curl up with at night because the fold-out wings hurt your ribs when you hug the plastics too tightly. I’m the ratty puppy you brought to your first apartment because the thought of leaving college without it was too much to handle.

I may not be the newest, but I’m definitely what you’d call a classic. If you accidentally leave me on the hotel floor, you better believe that car is turning around to bring me back. And I thought you understood that, thought you saw my value for more than just a toy on a shelf. But now I just feel like a security blanket, folded neatly along the wall for your convenience.

There used to be two, and now there’s just one. I’m stuck up on a shelf watching you play with your shiny new toy, with the painted-on dimples and the babydoll smile I can’t compete with. You’re a slave to the syndrome and you don’t even realize it. Or maybe you do, and you’re just too guilty to donate me with the rest of the toys you’ve outgrown. Call it jealousy, call it crazy, call me out of my mind. But I know shiny new toys when I see them and I can never stitch myself up well enough to compare to this year’s new models.

So if you need me, I’ll be between the bed and the wall, forgotten once more until you reach down and find me covered in dust bunnies and dead bugs. Maybe then you’ll take a minute to dust me off, and I’ll get a night cuddled in your arms, before back on the shelf I go.

The Shiny New Toy Syndrome

An Apology On An iPhone.

I knew this was going to happen.

I told you, I told you that as soon as something bigger and better came along I was going to forget all about this blog and leave you all hanging on the edge of your seat. I didn’t tell you, however, that it was going to happen after the very first entry-and for that, I’m truly sorry. I know that anyone who is willing to give my silly little blog a chance deserves better than that.
The truth is, I need this blog more than I think I let on. I know I’ve talked about how important writing is to me and how it’s the only outlet I can really use and appreciate. What I haven’t explained fully is that I live in a mindset where there are hundreds upon thousands of thoughts and emotions rattling around in my head at any given time. Trying to voice those idea coherently, trying to sort them into some sort of pattern, trying to make sense of my surroundings even-it’s so daunting. In this particular case, bigger thoughts are definitely not better.
Tonight was a night where that that kind of struggle was apparent, from the way that I stuttered through conversations with my best friend to spacing out completely and not realizing someone had asked me a direct question. Tonight is the type of night I would want to put down in words why my mind is so mixed up and I can’t sort out the things that matter from the matters that don’t.
I will be better about this blog. I have to, for my own sake.
This entire post was written on the notepad of my iPhone, composed entirely while waiting for the evening’s last Metro. I have a feeling this type of post will become more common as we go on. It was a quick way to get my thoughts out loud without having to wait until I got my hands on my Mac, and it’s comforting to know that when I need to say something I can write it out right now and post it when I have the time and the means to later.
I do want to talk about my weekend, but I have work in the morning and packing to do tonight. So much has changed, so much to talk about, but it will just have to wait a couple of hours.
And I promise, nothing bigger or better is gonna stand in my way this time.
An Apology On An iPhone.