It Comes @ a Cost

I'm quite bad with money. I try, every month, to plan my budget down to the penny. I don't allow for much leftover, because quite frankly, there just isn't breathing room for leftover. I pay rent with the first check...and have about $150 remaining. I pay bills with the second check...and have about $150 remaining. This is $300 living money for the month. This is not enough.

True that I have a tendency to spend that remaining $300 frivolously. I do stupid things like eat every meal out. (Although my boyfriend would tell you that what I eat generally doesn't constitute a meal-- what does he know.) But, in New York, eating out constantly isn't unheard of, (you might find, in fact, that it's somewhat commonplace and not much more expensive than buying groceries) but frivolous nonetheless. Also, in the instance that I find myself with an extra $100 or so than usual, I tend to think that it's freeee money. Mine for the spending. I earned it, damnit. I can spend it how I see fit! That is, until it's gone, and I realize I have nothing to show for it. And I can't buy coffee. And so I'm tired. And I miss my $100.

According to most people, I have no right to complain. I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. My father is one of the people lacking sympathy for my situation. "Try living someplace where a cheeseburger doesn't cost $12," he says. A cheeseburger? I haven't been able to afford a cheeseburger in years! I survive on takeout Chinese food, and the leftovers absolutely MUST last me the next two days. No one can make one container of wonton soup go the distance that I can. It's a science, really, that I've perfected.

I get frustrated sometimes, seeing many of my peers who live with their parents in New Jersey, or in elevator buildings in Murray Hill with parentally subsidized rent, who spend all of their disposable income on themselves: their wardrobes, trips with their friends, expensive technology and their high-interest bearing savings accounts. It's annoying, but I can't complain. This was my choice, and that is theirs. I think the hope is that in a couple of years, once my time has been "put in" (though put into what, exactly, I'm still not sure. It seems to me that I'm devoting my time strictly to stagnant poverty and bad Chinese food) I'll come out on the other end, a successful, wealthy cat. Maybe I'll have some sexy parties when that happens. I'm also hoping for some nice cashmere sweaters and a fat savings account to show for it. Just for comfort, you know.

I'm happy with my life here, and if it comes at the cost of being poor for a little while, then so be it. I just wish my credit card company understood the necessity of living the dream, at any cost.