Chibi Durga will still cut a bitch.[/caption]I had promised pictures and mood boards for Mondays, but I just realized I want to do for Mondays is get to talk about whatever I want to talk about, even if there's zero connection to magic/occultism/Paganism/whatever. Because, while I am a . . .Worker (so far that's my current label), that's only part of my day. And I've been blogging for a long time now. A really long time if we want to start from Diaryland* where I seemed to only have a tenuous relationship with the English language, how money works and My Mother Is the Root of All Evil Ever. Ever. (Hilariously, I now actually feel guilty about being such a little bitch about poor Fran who did her best to try to raise my sister and I not to be feral).
So sometimes, I run out of things to say. Because I've said a lot of things over the years. And sometimes it's also a matter of being pre-occupied with non magical related things. It would be awesome if you thought that high woo ritual was part of my daily practice and I'm constantly doing magic and you should tell me that's how you in fact see me should we ever meet, but it's a total lie. Sometimes, I don't even manage japa. Or magically cleaning my house. Or lighting one single tealight in my tiny hearth. There's often epic flailing is what I'm trying to say. I don't really have any big dictates from my gods requiring this or that and sometimes that's awesome and sometimes that means nothing gets done ever. (Ever.)
It's been established. Monday is Whatever Deb Feels Like Day.
Jow and I just got our tax return back which is why we’re having a big furniture flurry (I like the way that sounds!). We’re getting a leather couch, a new dining room set (same as the old one but, you know, new and assembled correctly this time), book cases and a new coffee table. The bookcases, coffee table and dining room set will be made out of actual wood, not particle board. I’m giving our old stuff to good home, which feels really good.
What feels strange about this is that we’re not going into debt with our purchases. We even have tax money left over which I promptly used to pay off my Bloomingdales card and *still* I have some left over.
You have to understand about the way I was from the age of 18-29. Money was really abstract to me. I liked nice things. Well, sort of. I think I’d feel better about my debt that I accrued if I had a Carrie Bradshaw closet to show for it. Mostly, I liked going out and buying a lot of stuff that was not going to make it long term (think lots and lots of sweaters from Kohls level establishments). I loved clubbing, I loved going to martini bars, I loved going out to eat and I did get to travel some. I do have some nice things to show for it. Not many, I sold most of my nice things to mortgage my (still new to me) thirtysomething adult life. But mostly I ate and drank a lot. Which is also how I got fat.
I didn’t plan on having children (and I’m still on the murky “probably not” side of the fence on that) and I didn’t really plan. No 401K, no retirement savings, nothing. I planned my next party or my next extravagant night out. I also didn’t boomerang back home to save money like I probably should have, but my early twentysomething relationship with my mom was contentious and it was hard for us to live in the same space because I desperately wanted to be AS OPPOSITE AS FRAN AS POSSIBLE! Poor Mom didn’t know what to do with me because I was super docile as a teen/early college kid. It seems almost funny now since I live three blocks away from the woman, voluntarily talk to her almost every day, call her immediately whenever I have a problem and really enjoy her company and spending time together. But it took a lot of work (and a lot of rent payments for me) on both ends for us to get to this place.
I was in a weird different financial bracket in my twenties where I made too much to qualify for a condo under Mt. Laurel (basically, each new development in NJ must set aside a certain number of smaller condos, apartments, townhouses, etc for people who make “normal money” in most of the rest of the country, but are considered “moderate income” in NJ. There aren’t any perks to it really, it just gives you the chance to buy real estate at a reasonable price with the caveat that you can only make a certain percentage profit on it. Plus: You’ll never lose money on the purchase. Minus: You’ll never make a killing either) but not enough to buy something either. I took this to mean that (a) retirement is a far off abstract idea that I could worry about in the future (b) naturally, my line of credit was a natural extension of my income which would only ever increase (c) I would never be able to afford to buy anything anyway so what was the point of saving for it if I wanted to stay in New Jersey (which I did) and (d) I wasn’t going to have kids anyway so NO DAY BUT TODAY!
Then I turned 29 and I was getting divorced and my company was starting to go under (it didn’t collapse until I was 32) and the economy was really, really bad. It was a big wake up call for me that the party was over. I’d need a place to live once I got older, I couldn’t just chaaaaaaaaaaaaaarge it any more and I was in credit card debt way over my head. I also realized I wanted my current financial situation and my financial future to be completely in my own hands. It was a really hard transition going from Prada shoes and popping Moet whenever I felt like it to buying a winter coat
* I'm starting a project on Tumblr where I will be posting old journal entries that I posted on this day however many years ago. I want to see how much I can make myself squirm with embarrassment and shame. Also, to see how I've changed, besides improved spelling and grammar. And laugh at myself a little. Because, why not?