Waste not, want not.

The only thing that pulled me through the day today was the thought of two very good women ascending upon this town like birds upon the shoulders of Saint Francis of Assisi come late December. I woke up today and cried for a little bit at the state of my finances. It was one of those mornings where you wake with great plans for all the meals, so many people to see, things to tick off a mental list, subjects to take risky photos of swirling around one's head, things to do, books to buy. Andrea made me promise to go out and buy a book today; one by her beloved, Cormac McCarthy, that she swore would change my taste in books forever and yet I couldn't get past the threshold. Not to mention the feeling of being locked in my apartment; guilty of treason. I betrayed my meagre budget this month by simply living and enjoying winter. Too many bottles of wine bought, extra food thrown out in garbage bags that will never degrade back into the earth. So much waste, so much want.

Anyway, I sat there crying until I had had enough blubbering and eventually padded to the kitchen in my socks, and grilled a cinnamon bun in butter just because I felt like it. To hell with my body. It is winter, I am switching gears. At one point I called my trusty mother and sobbed into the phone and swore her to secrecy of my pathetic state. She was ever gracious and patient and reflecting on her reassuring levelheadedness made me sob even harder because I am lucky to have her. I am writing this because for the most part, I think it is normal for uneducated twenty two year olds happily working at a dead-end job to cry in the interim until payday decides to make face again. It is not to say that I am unhappy where I am employed, I love my job and the daily interactions that I share with regulars is worth more than a paycheck six times it's usual size. With all this said, I have a few plans that sadly involve a hefty chunk of scrilla. Dolla dolla bills. Cashflow. Money.

I want to go to an art school somewhere great, or some school for design, printmaking, graphic design, furniture design, blah blah blah. I want to do a lot that could potentially come fairly naturally with proper schooling and practice, but none of this feels attainable today. So, I will have to reside to work a little harder than I had intended for winter and so be it. Chin up.

Mum, thanks for listening and talking to me like I was in Kindergarten. I probably sounded about five on the phone. It's cool now, I am okay. Still dancing with destitution, but okay. To all you steppers out there feeling poor, rearrange your bedroom; it helps. I did.

m