Materialistic Mayka
it’s really a bad idea for mayka’s bank account to put mayka within walking distance of anything “downtown.”
the geographic regions known as downtowns have nordstroms. nordstrom racks. these armed forces actually make me want to be a coach & lacoste girl. considering that i feel that way for the first time while coming where i come from is a big deal.
sometimes downtowns have targets, & targets are okay because you can score things like pillows for the third of a price of a regular movie ticket.
sometimes name brand stores like guess are in the area, too. & that can be okay, because sometimes they have monster sales conveniently taking place at the same time of your arrival &/or first excursion out on the town.
& all of this is true, but when you are mayka, you constantly feel the need for a “change of scenery.” once a week. every other day. every time “happy hour” rolls around. every fifteen minutes. so you walk. you walk to places that you shouldn’t be going into. not slums, not ghettos, not dark alleys with old water dripping off of rusty wrought iron fire escapes onto unsuspecting & indifferent mangy cats.
you walk into marble entrances with gold lettering & consumers mill around you & signs tell you where you should spend your hard-earned money.
& at the end of the day you just remember how x hours of x responsibility went completely into paying for y. it’s a little more than a little ridiculous.
i really do believe that the credit system started the great depression.”to jobs that pay the rent!”
today i saw the devil wears prada & i just thought about how i would be one of those million girls who would [almost] kill for that job. i’m not as purehearted as andy sachs. i want that prada life, & i want to be the single soul who’s smarter than the rest of the “clackers” in the office.
i just spent an entire laundry washing & drying waiting period looking for a media job.
i’m either getting old
or this is the first time
in my protected,
padded,
safe,
regimented,
typical pattern-of-progression life
that i will be young, lost, & thus a neophyte to searching.
by the time i was a senior in high school, i was telling people that my dream was to be the editor in chief for cosmo. i don’t know if i still want to be that 50-year old women telling 20-somethings how to be sexy, but i do think that i still have a warm spot in my heart for the production end of media.
what’s my dream job now?
in the latest batch of postsecrets, one read “i wasn’t drunk. i don’t regret ANY of it.” i kind of wish someone would say that to me. :( before you go off a-speculating, it’s nothing scandalous.
the geographic regions known as downtowns have nordstroms. nordstrom racks. these armed forces actually make me want to be a coach & lacoste girl. considering that i feel that way for the first time while coming where i come from is a big deal.
sometimes downtowns have targets, & targets are okay because you can score things like pillows for the third of a price of a regular movie ticket.
sometimes name brand stores like guess are in the area, too. & that can be okay, because sometimes they have monster sales conveniently taking place at the same time of your arrival &/or first excursion out on the town.
& all of this is true, but when you are mayka, you constantly feel the need for a “change of scenery.” once a week. every other day. every time “happy hour” rolls around. every fifteen minutes. so you walk. you walk to places that you shouldn’t be going into. not slums, not ghettos, not dark alleys with old water dripping off of rusty wrought iron fire escapes onto unsuspecting & indifferent mangy cats.
you walk into marble entrances with gold lettering & consumers mill around you & signs tell you where you should spend your hard-earned money.
& at the end of the day you just remember how x hours of x responsibility went completely into paying for y. it’s a little more than a little ridiculous.
i really do believe that the credit system started the great depression.”to jobs that pay the rent!”
today i saw the devil wears prada & i just thought about how i would be one of those million girls who would [almost] kill for that job. i’m not as purehearted as andy sachs. i want that prada life, & i want to be the single soul who’s smarter than the rest of the “clackers” in the office.
i just spent an entire laundry washing & drying waiting period looking for a media job.
i’m either getting old
or this is the first time
in my protected,
padded,
safe,
regimented,
typical pattern-of-progression life
that i will be young, lost, & thus a neophyte to searching.
by the time i was a senior in high school, i was telling people that my dream was to be the editor in chief for cosmo. i don’t know if i still want to be that 50-year old women telling 20-somethings how to be sexy, but i do think that i still have a warm spot in my heart for the production end of media.
what’s my dream job now?
in the latest batch of postsecrets, one read “i wasn’t drunk. i don’t regret ANY of it.” i kind of wish someone would say that to me. :( before you go off a-speculating, it’s nothing scandalous.