I Slipped. On Purpose.

The recriminations are around the corner, so if you're thinking about sending them my way, no need to bother yourself. I went to Goodwill.

That sentence, just so you know, always ends up about $30 down. I went to Goodwill in PB, because:

a) I spent my morning reading Painfully Hip, which in turn made me crave--CRAVE--a thrifting run, because I too want to be painfully hip and because thrifting is awesome and magical and fun. (The flip side of a), however, is that I should have been cleaning because I leave for 6 weeks of travel on Tuesday, have no spare cash, and am really trying not to leave the apartment a pit. I have a dream about coming back form my curriculum workshop a perfect teacher with a perfect goal and a perfect apartment and an absolutely enviable, together life. Anyway, I'd like to start off with a clean apartment. Blogging is probably not part of the ideal a).) Point being: perhaps reading thrift fashion/ street style blogs is not helpful?

So, how did I drop $30 at Goodwill? (Netted: one ridonkulous glass pendant with an "M" engraved on it, a total find and worth it; three perfect vintage T-shirts and one weird aqua zip-up T-shirt jacket from f21. Very good finds, but that's not the point.) 

Because I thought I could and I thought I deserved it and I wanted an excuse to go and get out of the apartment and I wanted stuff for my summer "look" and I kind of suck. 

I do. I NEED my cash desperately right now. I could have gotten by forever without those t-shirts, ideal as they may be. I need to get to the airport and pay for food and pay for coffee in cute cafes with W. and get to my first wedding destination and pay rent and pay my water bill and why oh why? I am so weak-willed. It's like the resolution to shop my closet, to be okay with what I have,  never even happened. 

Why isn't enough enough for me? 

Why is my greedy little short-term magpie of desire so much stronger than any vision I have of the future?  

It's so twisted, this need I have for More and for New. It's got nothing to do with what I have or want and definitely, obviously, nothing to do with what I need. To be disgusting about it: sometimes I see it as the financial equivalent of popping a zit. You know you shouldn't--everyone tells you it will scar and experience tells you it will scar and you know it will scar and the black-feathered angel of regret is standing, waiting for you outside the door and you do it anyway because you know under all that and after all that: it will FEEL SO GOOD.