For this narrative unit, we were assigned the task of creating a photonarrative in design class. Limiting our story to six frames, we had to try and tell our stories in a concise and symbolic manner.
The following story is a shortstory I wrote in English to accompany my photonarrative:
As I walked down the aisle contemplating the decision I would soon be forced to confront, I couldn’t help but slow my steps in anticipation of the struggle I assumed would overwhelm me. Making my way down the aisle, the repeated patterns and curvy bottles of hair products that lined the shelves seemed on the verge of collapsing and swallowing me whole. Trudging my steps, so as to not miss any possible destined purchase, I saw the aisle as a grossly excessive menu and a hypnotizing visual frustration.
Knowing that I had yet to approach hundreds of options, I knew it would be wise to just grab one at random and leave the aisle the way I entered, but I was too good for random selection. I wished I wasn’t so paranoid and over-analytic, but how could you leave a store even half-satisfied without knowing if you got the best fitting combination of size, scent, and side-effects for the best deal? I had come to realize that there are people who jump at the cheapest option, people who are nitpicky and pay the price, and people who choose their purchases routinely and follow their established trend. Unfortunately, I was your three-for-one offer.
I couldn’t prioritize these factors because I considered them all equally important. Price over quality? Quality over. size? Size over scent? Scent over ‘Yahoo Answers’ recommendations? All were equally important and all equally detrimental to the mood, social interactions, and wallet of a person.
Smelling like the fruity goodness of Garnier Fructis was infinitely different from surrendering yourself the safe, clean scent offered by Dove, but who was to say that either was better? Pacing myself down the aisle, I found each glance equally overwhelming.
As I referred back to the shampoo commercials in effort to help ease my decision, my head spun with photo-shopped advertisements and catchy slogans offered by the industry. Would a shower be more long and satisfying if choosing Herbal Essences? Would you walk out of the shower looking like Jessica Parker and live her ‘Sex in the City’ lifestyle if selecting Garnier Fructis? Would Pantene Pro-V give you the shine and extended hair flip that won hearts within seconds? I didn’t know who or what to believe.
Turning left and right, picking up bottles, opening their caps, I gave a gentle squeeze to each open-capped consideration, in hopes of being suddenly convinced and devoted simply by the scent it offered. I had inhaled so many shampoos by the time I reached mid-aisle, that I was practically nauseated and almost positive there was some sort of hazardous chemical in the shampoos I was debating.
Beyond the size, scent, and side-effects of the shampoos however, was my mother’s presence in my conscience. I was not there, lingering the same aisle for longer than fifteen minutes in hopes of finding myself the perfect shampoo, but rather a shampoo my mother would satisfyingly nod at. There had been so many times where I made the “un-smart” decision and I couldn’t tell if anything I did would ever be good enough. I felt like making a hard-copy of my mental pro-con lists so she could see all the thought I put into these decisions, seeing as her wish was apparently never my command. I knew no matter how hard I tried to please her, nothing I did would ever meet her expectations. I thought to myself, ‘why even worry if you’re going to make the “wrong” decision anyway?’
I could never forget the time my mother had sent me to the grocery store to run and get a carton of milk for the house. I chose to buy the gallon of Safeway’s Lucerene brand 2% milk for its Club Card price, and as soon as I got home, my mother ridiculed me for not purchasing the half-gallon of 1% milk.
Instead of giving up all hope however, I chose to put even more thought into these seemingly easy-to-make decisions. Trying to counter-argue any possible flaw in the shampoo I might eventually select, I should have just given up right then and there. I `should have settled for the easy way out and randomly grabbed a bottle off the shelf. I should have, but knowing my luck, I probably would have grabbed a bottle of John Frieda’s Sheer Blonde conditioner.
As I approached the end of the aisle, I knew I would have to eliminate some contemplations from the six-bottle load I had acquired over the course of the past twenty minutes. Lightening my load bottle by bottle, I struggled narrowing all my options down to one. So rather than coming to an immediate conclusion, I threw them all into my shopping cart and decided I would save that decision for when I reached the cash register. After all, that was only the first item on my mother’s list.
