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Thursday, September 23, 2004

money, money, money

With the touch of a few digits anything I desire is mine. In the past month I have spent more money than I ever could have imagined. Everyday there is something: food, cleaner, shampoo, mascara; clothes. I feel like I'm constantly making excuses to myself, wondering if they are excuses after all. I buy a pair of sweatpants, because, well, my other ones were ripping in a few places. I buy a jacket for fall, thick jeans for winter. I buy work clothes, because I literally have no appropriate clothing. I buy water, snacks, and chocolate: I need to survive don't I?

All the while my buys make me uncomfortable. I feel pangs of guilt and nervousness, feeling as though I'm acting in carelessness. Cities are expensive to live in. And I mean live in: not to be constantly working or locked up in your room. If that was the case, living would be cheap. But I want to be out there, living. Tasting, experiencing, LIVING. The catch is that food and entertainment come at a cost. The trendy urban clothing carries a price tag. The clubs that make your heart pump have cover.

Tonight I walked through the city with glazed eyes. Down to the boardwalk and up through Queens. My mood altering as much as the songs on my mix CD. Emotional instrumental songs guide me in my pensive and strangely lonesome state. Then a country song breaks out, just as a rugged old man on a bicycle gives me a big whoop and holler, and I'm all laughs.

Back at residence I am procrastinating over homework. My attention span is lacking with mandatory reading. I must make note however, that some of my journalism classes have been very painless and enjoyable. The other day we spent class split up in twos, out in the city, surveying people on the street. My partner and I asked: "Should marijuana be legalized?", and received a beautiful array of answers. For my newest project I have chosen the question: "why are women attracted to losers?" I'm asking this question for many people, including myself.

I have so much I want to do, write and say that I must pace myself. Then of course there's the things I have to do...and well..I am pacing myself with them. And every time I glance at the reading I should be doing, this blog just seems to get longer and longer..


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