I follow the same pattern every year: in the first week of the holidays, I spend all my savings, leaving myself bored and depressed; a state I live in, ’til my first pay cheque in January. Any other night and I’d be watching hockey at Sky Reach, football at the bar, or I’d be at a Club with my friends, drinking Canadian Beer: the beer of Gods. Speaking clever catch phrases like: “What up Dog?” to guys. The night doesn’t end ’til I’ve spoken: “Hey pretty lady, if you were a light-bulb I want to be the moth,” to all the women I meet.
At these places I experience my most excellent days. The people I meet, the music, breaking moves on the dance floor, and the ‘girl next door’ who grace’s me with a good-night kiss: memories I hope to cherish ’til I am a bald, toothless old man, but I usually forget them the next day. I lay on the basement love seat. My legs, from my big toes to my knees dangle over the armrest. My head rests on a Star Wars pillow. There is a pain inside my stomach.
Could Darth Vader be using his dark powers to torture me? I switch to a less comfortable, but more inviting Bambi pillow. Time passes, the feeling remains. My troubles are as clear to me as the clear Crystal Pepsi, which formerly graced shelves of local convenience stores a decade ago. I AM BORED! I should get out of the house, and party.
Unfortunately I am shy, not in a bashful way, but having no money way. My bank account is now as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboards. Where’d my money go? Perhaps in the brief moment, my guard down, it escaped from its wallet prison, fugitive bills searching for freedom, away from folding, from a life dedicated to service, being traded between human masters, and slowly being replaced by round metal alloy equivalents. This is not the case; I spent my money a week ago.
... morning and goes to bed at night and in-between does All money really is, is a way to ... can go out and make money. Money buys things; money influences people; money keeps us ali ve; money makes us happy. Or ... thing about these two novels is that the money received by both the Maxtons and the Youngers ... by Lorraine Hansbury, the Younger family gets their money when Walters father dies. But do the se ...
And why in such a short period? Christmas. Over $600. 00 was spent on presents for my family and friends. Result for such extravagant spending? Two weeks of misery, trapped in my basement penitentiary, doomed to the boredom of video games and TBS super-station movies.
Was it worth it in the end? Hugs, kisses, smiles, happiness, the rewards for bighearted thrift. Even if my little brother were to show no appreciation, if he was to insult the present I put so much money and effort into nothing would change. He like everyone else would still receive a gift the following year. It’s Christmas. I’m home for the holidays, home from school and work. Should I not be able to spend the holidays doing what I love most? Why at the end of every year am I faced with the dilemma of choosing others happiness against my own? Should I not be able to satisfy both? Some year in the future might I place my own desires over my family? The final decision is over 360 days away; I know the answer is “NO.”.