Wednesday, January 12, 2005

another day, another forty bucks

I work from 12 pm to 5 pm at $8/hr = $40 a day. Now that I am a broke student again, forty fucking dollars is a huge amount of money.

$40?

That's a week and a half on the metro. That's cigarettes, a burrito, a beer and a movie on the weekend. Maybe it's a date, if we split the bill for dinner. If I buy my books online, used, and don't get express shipping, its probably two textbooks- which of course arrive after I need them.

Its definitely not a new pair of jeans, a cute winter sweater, a cd, or any other random object that catches my eye and incites my covetous heart.

For awhile there, I was making money. Not a whole lot of money, in the scheme of things, but for a 22 to 24 yr old with no car, no house, no kids or hubby or wifey, no nothing except rent and a cat, it was the shit. When I saw something I wanted, within reason, I got it. What a beautiful thing that is- to not have to worry or pretend like putting it on my credit card means its free.

I'm feeling stressed about money and school, money and work, work and school, school and the shitload of money it costs, and the act of juggling that is going to get worse and worse as the homework train comes a-rumbling from the station. Stupid train. I hate that train.

Then I try to tell myself that I have it better than most. I'm not in war or famine or disease or destruction. I try to realize that my life is good, and I should be thankful for the things that I have. But I really want to prove just how shitty things are for me right now so I can have you feel bad for me too. Then, I win. Its a crappy prize, your pity, but somehow if I can just convince you how much all this hurts me, it will mean something that is worth more than the crappy circumstances I am in.

Of course, it doesn't alleviate the circumstances at all. And I'm sure your circumstances are pretty shitty themselves. If I weren't so busy feeling sorry for myself, I would sympathize with you.