Dollars and Sense

By my calculation, if I paid rent this month, I will have roughly $200 in my bank account. In New York, that’s a cheap date. Two years of banking, and it comes down to this? While my friends are buying apartments and cars and boats and whatever else it is, I’m worried about the rent. Go figure. I am spending entirely way beyond my earning bracket. It’s something I’ve never been good at, this spending thing. I always spend on a deficit, always waiting for that trickle down. Unfortunately, I don’t really spend at all that much on the everyday stuff for myself. It’s usually for other people. Really. Birthday presents and drinks and lunches can add up. Not that I’m complaining (well yes a little bit) ex facto. I’m complaining because I know that I’ll have to curb my spending from now on if I want to take off in two years. I’ll have to go out less – and by going out I mean to the places that my peers go to for the sole purpose of blowing wads of cash – I’ll go to the free shows and whatnot. No more restaurants and those nice Sunday brunches. Movies? At $10 a pop, they’re not exactly the way I remembered them either. Clubs, bars, concerts, shows? Ha. I suppose that’s it. My conception of reality is really fucked up compared to what reality is. Especially in the realm of money. I’ve always been fortunate enough to have a job that masked my inability to be cost efficient. After all, with a $40-$65K year-end bonus, I can afford to spend beyond my means during the year. Now all those lessons from Dad are catching up to me. Gasp. I’ll actually have to watch what I buy, what I eat, where I go and whom I hang out with. It’s somewhat frightening, to see your buying/living power so close to zero. Zero. Like the masked executioner, the silent grim reaper, zero is grotesquely frightening – so permanent and resolute. I hit that zero and it’s like crashing into a wall. I reach that zero and it means I’ve failed. I can’t handle myself. I’m not mature enough to be independent, too naive to succeed in the real world, too emotional to constrain myself – too undisciplined to be responsible. It’s the ultimate male fear of inadequacy (besides the other one). I can’t provide for myself. If I can’t do that, how can I provide for anyone else? Oh fuck it. Ramen and rice ain’t that bad. It’s funny how three years out of college and I’m learning to live like a student all over again.