Sunday, May 2, 2010

on being poor

Well that was quite the hiatus. I apologize. Academia, for perhaps the last time in my life, has been making my life nearly unlivable. But, on the same token, it is all so bittersweet. The "real world" will be more difficult than college--right? Alas, this weekend marked the last spring weekend at school ever. Tear. Today my whole body hurts. I magically came down with a cold overnight...though it is quite possible it is simply allergies. I'm going to hope for the allergies, because if I'm actually sick that will be so not fun.

What's on my mind today? Being poor. I am broke. Broke as a joke. Over Easter I looked at my checking account and actually burst out laughing because I had $43. Yup. I thought I was ok and requested a check from my savings until the other day I realized that check also dwindled and I don't have much left in my savings. On Wednesday there was a reception held in the ballroom for graduating seniors and alums. Appetizers, open bar. My friends and I were so there! Upon trying to get ready I realized that I did not a. have appropriate dress pants, or b. have shoes besides my sperrys and my junky Caro St. heels I bought at Payless specifically to wear to off-campus parties (No, Caro St. is not a brand. It's the colloquial name for the off-campus neighborhood surrounding HC). Also, most of the jewelry I own is from Target because I tend to lose nice parents learned early on. THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

Walking up to the networking event, I cringed with every step I took because the metal posts of my high heels are poking out of the bottom, making a lovely squeaky, metal-on-pavement sound. I reflected upon my wardrobe and realized the full extent of my poverty. My jeans have holes in the crotch (which I have patched, I'm not trying to look homeless), the treads of all of my footwear (sperrys, sandals, you name it) are worn smooth, all of my unmentionables are actually falling apart, and I save all of my laundry to do at home because I don't want to spend the money to wash it at school.

And yet, I have no trouble going to the liquor store. Time to reevaluate.

1 comment:

  1. In my experience, the more you drink the less you notice pain. Good Move :)