essentialist boots
I calculated how much I’ve been working over the last few weeks and I think I’ve worked close to 100 hours at the Theory Centre. It doesn’t seem like very much to those that work full-time and have been doing so for a while now but to me, this is impressive. I’ve worked part-time over the last two years but I haven’t had more consistent full-time hours in a few years. I’m a little burnt out from working and taking care of myself but things are all right. I think I just have a weird relationship with working because I was forced to work so much during high school and early university. And now, with some friends and acquaintances doing well for themselves (like one couple that I know whose combined income will be $100,000 next year), I feel totally slack, doing these piecemeal office jobs. I feel like I should be working two jobs or three, doing 60 hour weeks, making as much money as I can where my life would only consist of working and sleeping and nothing else because otherwise, I’m not pulling my weight.
The boy of that couple unit thinks he’ll pay off his student loan within the next year or two and he’s opening another account to save money for a ring and a wedding for his girl. Warren thinks if he tries to square his school debts before we marry, we’ll never marry. We would have died long before that day. It’s not as if this boy has said anything to me or Warren that makes us feel bad about how much we do or don’t do in said boy’s eyes but there’s something implicit or underlying in his comments to us. He makes me feel that what he’s doing (working 12 hour shifts, working hard to be debt-free, having a wedding ring before he pops the questions) is the right way, the only way and what we’re doing is foolish, that we’re making poor decisions, that we don’t work hard enough, that we’re lazy.
I remember Helen writing about this a while back - about being lectured by a friend about how she spends her money without the acknowledgement of how she saves her money. People often write about things they’ve bought that make them happy whether those things are records or sweaters or tickets for concerts, etc but who writes about how they cut corners today to save and afford these things. Sacrifice doesn’t make a glamorous subject matter.
I made an only okay financial decision yesterday. I bought black ankle boots on sale. I bought them at a high-end frou-frou designer-laden store yesterday night. They were originally $485 and I bought them for $130 plus tax. Sarah and I did a bit of shopping before our show on Wednesday since Richmond Row is having their annual sidewalk sale. Sarah bought a dress for $19 and I tried on the boots four times. I think they’re gorgeous though - black calf-skin leather with a pale pink interior and a little, tiny kitten heel. They come with a black leather cuff and you wear that over the boot, similar to a spat. They’re totally weird and over the top but I love them. I think the best way to describe them is: those cute Star Trek boots meets Chanel couture from a few seasons ago or maybe the Great Gatsby. When I was trying them on for the fifth time last night, a super-rich looking older European lady coveted them and ended up buying the same boots before me. I think she thought it was ridiculous that I had to think so much about them but I don’t think she has to worry about paying rent or feeding her MA-writing boyfriend. As she was trying on the boots, she told me about her most recent trip to Europe and how she didn’t see boots like these in Europe.
I felt idiotic after leaving Trent’s house last night - mostly because whenever I see him, I think I chat his ear off about idiotic things but also because I justified buying these boots with a sick essentialising statement: It’s because I’m a girl. I only caught myself after I had said it. Do you think I can file this one under “strategic essentialism”?
Warren and I went to see Super Size Me earlier this week. Talking to Selena about it piqued my interest. Like her, I found it pretty offensive and I was nauseated from all that food being on the screen. I think what I disliked the most about the film beyond the lack of real analysis or the acknowledgement that race, class and gender play a role in eating habits is the counterpoint of veganism. I hate how that was the only option for “healthy eating” shown on screen. It reminds me of being bombarded by self-righteous vegans or vegetarians about their lifestyle choice. I see veganism as a valid choice but it’s not the right choice for me. I don’t eat for political reasons but I eat for aesthetic ones. Sorry.
I have an obliterating headache right now.
The painting extravaganza begins tonight! Warren and I are making a poor food choice by picking up a Pizza Hut pizza and then we’re laying down tape. I think we can get the office primed tonight and the kitchen painted and finished but probably not by the time What Not to Wear is on.
Maybe we’ll get a chance to walk down to SunFest (a world music festival in London) for some tamarind snow cones at the Nicaraguan food stand for our break.
The boy of that couple unit thinks he’ll pay off his student loan within the next year or two and he’s opening another account to save money for a ring and a wedding for his girl. Warren thinks if he tries to square his school debts before we marry, we’ll never marry. We would have died long before that day. It’s not as if this boy has said anything to me or Warren that makes us feel bad about how much we do or don’t do in said boy’s eyes but there’s something implicit or underlying in his comments to us. He makes me feel that what he’s doing (working 12 hour shifts, working hard to be debt-free, having a wedding ring before he pops the questions) is the right way, the only way and what we’re doing is foolish, that we’re making poor decisions, that we don’t work hard enough, that we’re lazy.
I remember Helen writing about this a while back - about being lectured by a friend about how she spends her money without the acknowledgement of how she saves her money. People often write about things they’ve bought that make them happy whether those things are records or sweaters or tickets for concerts, etc but who writes about how they cut corners today to save and afford these things. Sacrifice doesn’t make a glamorous subject matter.
I made an only okay financial decision yesterday. I bought black ankle boots on sale. I bought them at a high-end frou-frou designer-laden store yesterday night. They were originally $485 and I bought them for $130 plus tax. Sarah and I did a bit of shopping before our show on Wednesday since Richmond Row is having their annual sidewalk sale. Sarah bought a dress for $19 and I tried on the boots four times. I think they’re gorgeous though - black calf-skin leather with a pale pink interior and a little, tiny kitten heel. They come with a black leather cuff and you wear that over the boot, similar to a spat. They’re totally weird and over the top but I love them. I think the best way to describe them is: those cute Star Trek boots meets Chanel couture from a few seasons ago or maybe the Great Gatsby. When I was trying them on for the fifth time last night, a super-rich looking older European lady coveted them and ended up buying the same boots before me. I think she thought it was ridiculous that I had to think so much about them but I don’t think she has to worry about paying rent or feeding her MA-writing boyfriend. As she was trying on the boots, she told me about her most recent trip to Europe and how she didn’t see boots like these in Europe.
I felt idiotic after leaving Trent’s house last night - mostly because whenever I see him, I think I chat his ear off about idiotic things but also because I justified buying these boots with a sick essentialising statement: It’s because I’m a girl. I only caught myself after I had said it. Do you think I can file this one under “strategic essentialism”?
Warren and I went to see Super Size Me earlier this week. Talking to Selena about it piqued my interest. Like her, I found it pretty offensive and I was nauseated from all that food being on the screen. I think what I disliked the most about the film beyond the lack of real analysis or the acknowledgement that race, class and gender play a role in eating habits is the counterpoint of veganism. I hate how that was the only option for “healthy eating” shown on screen. It reminds me of being bombarded by self-righteous vegans or vegetarians about their lifestyle choice. I see veganism as a valid choice but it’s not the right choice for me. I don’t eat for political reasons but I eat for aesthetic ones. Sorry.
I have an obliterating headache right now.
The painting extravaganza begins tonight! Warren and I are making a poor food choice by picking up a Pizza Hut pizza and then we’re laying down tape. I think we can get the office primed tonight and the kitchen painted and finished but probably not by the time What Not to Wear is on.
Maybe we’ll get a chance to walk down to SunFest (a world music festival in London) for some tamarind snow cones at the Nicaraguan food stand for our break.