I make great money. Really great money, actually I am sitting firmly in the middle class; I am earning enough to buy a house and pay off a mortgage and do everything that a regular person aspires to do. It is no good though, I don't really care about this money and it seems that all it serves to do is force me into new ways of laziness and apathy.
Let me explain:
While I was at uni I earned a pittance but I managed to find creative ways of living, slower ways of living. I shopped at op shops, had little to no phone credit and caught the train to places, slept where I could and drank lambrusco out of a paper bag. Now, I have too much money to bother with op shops and everything I want is within striking distance and I have no restraint in my spending or desire to spend. I can feel my addiction to spending money slowly arcing outside of my control and my wants growing larger as I grow older; furniture, photography, snowboarding, bodyboarding, magazines, the list goes on. As I shop I grow more and more numb to any sort of raw primacy and energy for life. I just want to grow my stuff, and somehow appease the gnawing restlessness inside of me.
I saw a preview for No Impact Man the other day and it is somewhat inspiring to know that there are others out there trying a different way of life. I am not so sure what it is that I want from life yet but just to consume and complain and work seems like a hoax. Also on this, I know I have an aversion to hard work, to giving all of myself to one single purpose for fear that I choose to live balls out for a lie but as I piss away the days halfheartedly thinking these ideas out I grow more and more discontent.
All I know is:
You need more stuff and I need more money.
This entry really took a sour turn, sorry.