Imagine if we lived every day like it was our birthday. Waking up excited to experience what’s to come. Feeling a tear-jerking sense of gratitude for something as simple as a balloon. Accepting - celebrating, even - the weather, the work you get to do, the restaurants you get to eat at, the route you drive home, calls from distant relatives, and an individual gluten free cookie. What if every day, we told the people in our lives that we love them SO MUCH it hurts, that we can’t believe they’d give up their evening to sit by us, and that their presence actually makes this world a better place.
There’s this really interesting concept in consumer behavior known as “anchoring.” It’s the idea that once a consumer knows of a certain data point (like, an original price of an item) they automatically anchor to that number, and compare all other data to it.
It’s why you’re likely to think of a percentage-off sales price as an actual sale.
It’s why you might order the second-highest priced menu item, to consider yourself elite without spending the biggest bucks.
Doesn’t that make you feel manipulated?
This time last semester, I was in tears sitting next to my bed praying for the strength to endure.
It wasn’t enduring exams, meetings, or schoolwork that I needed help with - it was enduring a week of no exams, no meetings, no schoolwork, and having to wait to go home to my family. YEP, I had literallyyy nothinggg to do, but I had to wait to head home. And it made me sit down on my floor, call my mom, and cry.
Hi, I'm Chlo.
I've been writing and reading and all the storytelling things since I learned as a kid that if you fold and staple construction paper together, it sort of looks like a real book. I have always craved soul serving stories- ones that melt like butter in your mind as you hear your heart explained out loud.
This here is my home away from home. When I'm not exploring neighborhood coffeehouses, driving down the Pacific Coast (again), or loving on all my people - I'm probably here, with you. Come on in! Scroll around. I hope you feel less alone.