:: Sunday, June 22, 2003 ::

Being broke...

Is fine. Great. Fantastic.

I have been eating rice every day, walking around in shoes with cracked, leaky soles, playing monopoly, and watching old taped episodes of My So-Called Life. And it's been fine.

That's the thing about being dead broke. It's fine, as long as you're satisfied with what you have.

But the minute something comes up...

My Eddie is coming. Coming soon. Well, not until August, but the fucker's on sale. The Vogue. Small venue. And I can't afford a fucking ticket.

I have to wait two weeks. Two fucking weeks.

It seems so dumb - I can deal with not having shoes or a social life, but one show goes on sale and I lose it. But I guess the point is freedom. I know I could buy shoes in two weeks. I know I can have a social life in two weeks. But in two weeks Eddie will be sold out. It's now or never, and I'm forced to pick never.

It makes me so mad. And it makes me mad that I'm trying to sell off my belongings on ebay, but I can't because my credit card would decline the "seller's fees." And it makes me mad that consignment stores only give you 40% of what they make off of your stuff. And it makes me mad that I got rained out of an 8 hour shift yesterday. And it makes me mad that I'm here, working a fun job where I'm not earning enough to start paying off my Visa, 'cause my rent is 400 bucks and a girl has to eat.

Now I'm almost wishing I went home, lived off my parents, hung out with my old friends and whored myself at some shit job I hate. And it makes me mad that I'm sitting here, wishing I had a shitty life and a full bank account. Because I really do wish that right now. And that goes against pretty much everything I usually stand for.

I know money isn't everything. I'm just tired I guess. And tomorrow I probably won't care this much. At least I hope I won't.

But more than anything, I'm just mad at myself, because this was all my choice and therefore I have zero right to be so upset about it. And I know nobody wants to listen. Everyone's got their own shit going on. So I'm writing it here.

If any of you buy a ticket in the next two weeks I'm going to kick you where it hurts. Honestly.

Fucking life.


~song~ my own angry, frustrated inner monologue, repeated ad infinitum

:: Katy 12:31 a.m. [+] :: ::