Blogs I Have Not Written
- Time versus money, something I thought a lot about while on vacation last week, mostly along the lines of “I can have time or I can have money, but it is very difficult to have enough of both at the same time.” Of course, whatever I have less of feels more important.
- My new big goal: $25K saved in 5 years. I have taken no action on this except to daydream about it.
- My July spending (because I haven’t written it down).
- Figuring out taxes as an Independent Contractor. I think this would be an extremely useful post, but since I haven’t even begun to figure out what that means despite having worked my new job for three months, I haven’t written it.
- The joy of biking to work. Or the misery. I don’t know yet.
Money I Have Not Spent
- $299 on a new phone
- $75 for new glasses
- $75 for renter’s insurance renewal
- Unknown Sums for new tires
- Unknown Sums for new laptop
- Unknown Sums (and probably infinite) for new pants that are perfect for biking and then looking presentable at work.
Money I Have Spent and would prefer not to talk about
- $60 on margaritas for four at the racetrack.
- $80 on new derby gear, but not a new helmet even though I’m afraid of concussions.
- $345 on an attractive cat tree, which I realize is a pretty large sum of money to spend on a cat tree, but it is really attractive. Not purchased but considered: a similarly priced porcelain cat litter bowl from Germany.
- Unknown Sums for restaurant meals that I said I would give up in July and then kept buying.
It’s been a long absence. I’ve been thinking about writing the whole time, I swear, pondering blog posts in the car, on walks, while running. “That should go in a blog!” I’ve thought more times than I can count. But of course, none of them have.
I miss it. I think about it (writing, the blog, poetry) like an addict thinking about a fix. I can feel myself a little tenser, a little grumpier, a little desperate. I think about escape: about enough money not to work, about the joy of part time work (conveniently forgetting how much I hated feeling like I wasn’t a grown up). Not writing makes me resent work, derby and people I otherwise value. But I’ve barely figured out how to balance work and derby, let alone all three, let alone all three plus a boyfriend and a cat and friends and me-time. Time versus money. Priorities. The same things I’ve struggled with the whole time I’ve been writing this blog.
When I used to work at the law office, I’d ask myself how long I could do it, how long I could last because the money was good even though by the end (by eight months to a year before the end) I was becoming miserable and angry and desperate. Now I find myself asking the same thing, only slightly rephrased. How long can I not write? How long can I pretend it isn’t as important (more important) than everything else?