Okay so I know it's horrible to brag about your salary, but this is the one place where no fucks is given and it's been that place in my life since junior year in high school. My generation is so weird...
I'm not by any means swimming in money, I'm just comfy. I haven't been comfy with money at all, ever, since I started working and paying bills. I've always been behind and for the first time I am ahead, and it feels great. Working 7 days a week isn't so bad either, I've gotten used to it by now, plus I get every other Monday off too. And when I'm sick I still get paid the same amount, and I've also got this cool new thing I found out about at the vet called Care Credit its basically health insurance on a credit card up to a certain amount of course. Its awesome for poor people with pets because you can use it at the vet and for yourself, there is no interest unless you make a late payment. I've also been able to get a regular credit card finally, since this September I've been paying my phone bill for a year and my student loan for 2 years. I'm trying to build up to buy an iMac. Connor was right, this whole credit thing is like a game, except when you fail, it sucks really bad.
I still have yet to even mention to my mom that I might be staying in New York, especially with news about my grandparents moving back to California. Why does everyone I love have to live in the most unreasonably priced (and awesome) place in this country? I would love nothing more to be near all of that delicious food and the chilly beach and common grounded nerds, but I'm afraid of leaving my 'comfy' space to go back to being below the poverty line and not able to do anything cool anyway. I'll have to buy a car, I'll have to buy insurance, I'll have to pay to even get over there and then hunt for a place that has an apartment with a kitchen in my price range. It seems utterly ridiculous to think I'll be buying a house in New York, because getting here was a mistake. If I hadn't met Connor I would've gone home a long time ago.
Someone asked me a few years ago what I liked to do and I had no answer, absolutely none. I was 18, only three years ago, but it feels like the whole world has spun a million years since then. Now I know what I value and found someone else who wants what I want, I want to live a life of sustainability. Doesn't that sound so epic? That should be my climactic one-liner at the epicenter of my book. But really, I want to work my land and take care of my house, garden organically, have chickens for eggs and only ONE damn rooster 'cause they are the scariest alpha males. We've been talking about fostering animals and animal rescuing (when I say 'we've' I must be talking about me with myself, I've only mentioned it twice out-loud). There will be cooking, TONS of cooking, re-arranging, wall-paper ripping parties. Friends, you are welcome.
There cannot be any more pure a form of 'comfyism' than living in the country.
I'm not by any means swimming in money, I'm just comfy. I haven't been comfy with money at all, ever, since I started working and paying bills. I've always been behind and for the first time I am ahead, and it feels great. Working 7 days a week isn't so bad either, I've gotten used to it by now, plus I get every other Monday off too. And when I'm sick I still get paid the same amount, and I've also got this cool new thing I found out about at the vet called Care Credit its basically health insurance on a credit card up to a certain amount of course. Its awesome for poor people with pets because you can use it at the vet and for yourself, there is no interest unless you make a late payment. I've also been able to get a regular credit card finally, since this September I've been paying my phone bill for a year and my student loan for 2 years. I'm trying to build up to buy an iMac. Connor was right, this whole credit thing is like a game, except when you fail, it sucks really bad.
I still have yet to even mention to my mom that I might be staying in New York, especially with news about my grandparents moving back to California. Why does everyone I love have to live in the most unreasonably priced (and awesome) place in this country? I would love nothing more to be near all of that delicious food and the chilly beach and common grounded nerds, but I'm afraid of leaving my 'comfy' space to go back to being below the poverty line and not able to do anything cool anyway. I'll have to buy a car, I'll have to buy insurance, I'll have to pay to even get over there and then hunt for a place that has an apartment with a kitchen in my price range. It seems utterly ridiculous to think I'll be buying a house in New York, because getting here was a mistake. If I hadn't met Connor I would've gone home a long time ago.
Someone asked me a few years ago what I liked to do and I had no answer, absolutely none. I was 18, only three years ago, but it feels like the whole world has spun a million years since then. Now I know what I value and found someone else who wants what I want, I want to live a life of sustainability. Doesn't that sound so epic? That should be my climactic one-liner at the epicenter of my book. But really, I want to work my land and take care of my house, garden organically, have chickens for eggs and only ONE damn rooster 'cause they are the scariest alpha males. We've been talking about fostering animals and animal rescuing (when I say 'we've' I must be talking about me with myself, I've only mentioned it twice out-loud). There will be cooking, TONS of cooking, re-arranging, wall-paper ripping parties. Friends, you are welcome.
There cannot be any more pure a form of 'comfyism' than living in the country.
