Cash Money
When I say I don't care about money this is both completely true and absolutely false.
I don't care about money in the sense of wanting it for status. I don't, at the moment, want it for excess. I don't want big, fancy cars. I don't want some awful mansion. I am not sure I would travel the world. If I had money, I don't think I would want to be around other people with money.
I see money as the only escape plan to the general miserable condition of life (not counting any kind of long-coming spiritual release). Money is freedom from work. Money means choices. I have so very few choices right now. I have to convince myself sometimes that the little things I do equal the grand things I dream of.
I am just annoyed about this right now because someone I am friends with, who has an excess of money, just bought a new car. And the purchase was really nothing to him. If my truck were to die tomorrow, chances are I would not be able to get another vehicle. I simply could not afford it. Yet, I have to witness people like this making such decisions with such ease... it fills me with a jealous rage.
With the advent of Facebook I see that 50% of the people I "know" seem to be on vacation 90% of the time. It will probably be two years before I can afford to go to New Orleans again, let alone anywhere else. And it will take me six months after to pay off the debt of it. As of right now I still owe Rockwell $200 for the Mardi Gras trip.
One could go into length about how the blame is all my own, but that doesn't serve much purpose other than make me feel even worse about my situation. I have made headway on my debt. But, the process is so slow (not unlike the process I've undertaken to clean my sister's yard up). The good parts to the process are so far on the horizon I cannot even make them out.
I feel such horrible anxiety about the fact I may never be able to afford a house. And even if I could, it would be something less than what I wanted. Even foregoing the dream of having some classic Mid Century masterpiece of a home I fear I will be relegated to some cookie cutter home in the suburbs with neighbors crawling up my ass on all sides. With a tiny yard barely able to hold a thimble full of my gardening aspirations.
I spent the morning watching some videos of a guy in Nebraska; a passionate prairie gardener. He has an average house with a slightly large yard and a patch of prairie jungle he pans through in the different seasons. With the buzz of insects and the songs of birds all around. In my bones I ache for that escape.
I just rode my bike down to the Montrose beach bird sanctuary. But, it was a sad excuse for escapism with all the people around. Not to mention the haunting anxiety in my head that I have spent half a work day doing absolutely no work.
My dream is simple. I just want a plot of land. I want to grow the most wondrous gardens. I want to light a fuse and let nature ignite the landscape. I want secret benches in between tall waving towers of grass. I want a hammock under a shady tree. I want a vegetable garden with all kinds of heirloom vegetables to tend to. A pumpkin patch to eagerly await the bounty from.
I'm not looking for Audis or 70" televisions. Aside from the house, right now the most expensive thing besides gardening I would want would be a nice telescope.
Time is not waiting for me. There is so little left compared to what I've already had. Do I suffer the rest of it struggling to make up for the mistakes of the first half. The great irony of all this talk about money is that the one thing I want, which is nature, is completely free.
I don't care about money in the sense of wanting it for status. I don't, at the moment, want it for excess. I don't want big, fancy cars. I don't want some awful mansion. I am not sure I would travel the world. If I had money, I don't think I would want to be around other people with money.
I see money as the only escape plan to the general miserable condition of life (not counting any kind of long-coming spiritual release). Money is freedom from work. Money means choices. I have so very few choices right now. I have to convince myself sometimes that the little things I do equal the grand things I dream of.
I am just annoyed about this right now because someone I am friends with, who has an excess of money, just bought a new car. And the purchase was really nothing to him. If my truck were to die tomorrow, chances are I would not be able to get another vehicle. I simply could not afford it. Yet, I have to witness people like this making such decisions with such ease... it fills me with a jealous rage.
With the advent of Facebook I see that 50% of the people I "know" seem to be on vacation 90% of the time. It will probably be two years before I can afford to go to New Orleans again, let alone anywhere else. And it will take me six months after to pay off the debt of it. As of right now I still owe Rockwell $200 for the Mardi Gras trip.
One could go into length about how the blame is all my own, but that doesn't serve much purpose other than make me feel even worse about my situation. I have made headway on my debt. But, the process is so slow (not unlike the process I've undertaken to clean my sister's yard up). The good parts to the process are so far on the horizon I cannot even make them out.
I feel such horrible anxiety about the fact I may never be able to afford a house. And even if I could, it would be something less than what I wanted. Even foregoing the dream of having some classic Mid Century masterpiece of a home I fear I will be relegated to some cookie cutter home in the suburbs with neighbors crawling up my ass on all sides. With a tiny yard barely able to hold a thimble full of my gardening aspirations.
I spent the morning watching some videos of a guy in Nebraska; a passionate prairie gardener. He has an average house with a slightly large yard and a patch of prairie jungle he pans through in the different seasons. With the buzz of insects and the songs of birds all around. In my bones I ache for that escape.
I just rode my bike down to the Montrose beach bird sanctuary. But, it was a sad excuse for escapism with all the people around. Not to mention the haunting anxiety in my head that I have spent half a work day doing absolutely no work.
My dream is simple. I just want a plot of land. I want to grow the most wondrous gardens. I want to light a fuse and let nature ignite the landscape. I want secret benches in between tall waving towers of grass. I want a hammock under a shady tree. I want a vegetable garden with all kinds of heirloom vegetables to tend to. A pumpkin patch to eagerly await the bounty from.
I'm not looking for Audis or 70" televisions. Aside from the house, right now the most expensive thing besides gardening I would want would be a nice telescope.
Time is not waiting for me. There is so little left compared to what I've already had. Do I suffer the rest of it struggling to make up for the mistakes of the first half. The great irony of all this talk about money is that the one thing I want, which is nature, is completely free.