Novelty: the quality of being new; also refers to something novel--that which is striking, original or unusual.
Novelties: small manufactured adornments; a toy or collectible.
Once the bug for something new gets under my skin, it's a hard sucker to obliterate. Case in point. My nose piercing was radical, given my career and social sphere. It's a small sphere, but I'm afloat in a larger pool of conservative certainties, which makes me about as popular as a germ at an immune system convention. It's been 8 months now and the novelty (definition #1) has worn off. At least for me. I still get double-takes, but more smiles of recognition than anything else.
Now I have the itch to plunk down some green for definition #2. I want to swap out my stainless steel ring for something fun. Cost is not a factor, but the compact is. I suspect that used nose jewelry is not a popular commodity and even if it was, I don't think I could go there. This falls to the same disturbing area of the brain where I store all the other senseless learned taboos like "can't eat food that has a hair in it." Technically, there is no reason not to share sterilized jewelry, but I've been mind-screwed out of it.
I can't believe that the piercing jewelry comes from anywhere but third-world countries, pumped out by uncaring, resource-mining corporations, despite being sold in hip shops marketing themselves as underdogs. So unless I find someone handcrafting nose jewelry out of recycled bits, I'm not going to get my novelty for the coming year. The smart bet, however, is that I'm going to be trying to put my earring studs on double duty. At least until I realize it wasn't meant to be or until I suck an earring back into my lungs during the night.
This leaves me obsessing over my nose ring. It's boring. Unoriginal. Usual. I'm left to wonder why I have such a strong need for novelty. It may be a human trait, or it may be my initiation into the world of spoiled, affluent America. Either way, I'm going to find a big stick and beat it out of myself.