Poor Little Poor Girl

I hate the end of the month. I hate to be one of those people who always complain about having no money. I hate even more being one of those people who constantly writes about it. I know we all have our own financial woes to deal with, so I'm sure no one feels like hearing my yammer on and on about mine.

But wait a minute...I'm 26 years old now. I have a (pretty much) stable job, paid for car (however shoddy), and with (thankfully) no real health problems or mind-blowing debt (at least, that I know of). Basically, I'm exactly where I was years ago as a college student, dreaming about the day when I would be out in the real world, and able to afford whatever I could (within reason). I wouldn't have to worry about things like food anymore, only going to the places my meal plan covered. I wouldn't have to wait until Wednesday to do my drinking because we could get a free unlimited cup at the Crease. I'd be living it up, sipping cocktails at a sophisticated LOUNGE discussing things like world politics and the stock exchange with my equally sophisticated peers.

Yeah, that was the idea anyway. Oh how naive.

Now I'm just glad that I can make rent, put gas in my car, and stock a pantry with groceries. I don't know why I ever thought that just because you enter a certain age means you have to be a different person (hence that whole "sophisticated" business). I realize now, it's about finding a balance, with the kid you are at heart and the "grown-up" you will inevitably become.

Case in point, about a month ago my friend Erica and I decided to go to the city for dinner. We chose a place with a nice second floor view and valet parking. We each got a drink, and as we ate and talked, we both suddenly had a flash of adulthood. It wasn't bad actually, like I would've thought. It actually was kinda nice to be able to afford a nice meal, sitting amongst the yuppies of Baltimore. Almost like taking that lifestyle for a test-run.

But on the flip side, several weeks later we walked around Artscape with our friend Lauren. We meandered in and out of tents, looking at the home made jewelry and clothing. Whenever one of us picked up something we liked we'd cautiously peer at the price tag. And then we'd slink back out empty-handed. It seems we are close enough to taste that adult-world of luxury but not yet able to really feast on it. Which also brings up another point...who CAN afford these high end art pieces?

I recall once, when I was technically interning for a creative magazine, we had a meeting at a woman's apartment downtown. I buzzed the door of this beautifully maintained building, staring at a brass name plate. When I walked in and took a seat at this massive ornate wood table, my eyes seemed to dart all about the room. She had sculptures on mantels, elegant furniture, and paintings that ate up the walls. It was beautiful, and I wondered, what did she do to be able to get all this? My memory fails me now, but what I do remember is that she was at least in her 40s or 50s.

So maybe I have time before I can become one of those people who doesn't need to clip coupons or shop in the bargain bins. But then again, I hope I always retain some of that. It's more than just my stubbornness to grow up; it's part of who I am. Besides, an unlimited glass of Sex on the Beaches beats a stuffy old martini any day.