today is a joyous, glorious, glorious, joyous day, because today, i am finally free from the evil clutches of student loans! it only took 4 years, 10 months and 17 days, but it is one of the greatest feelings EVS.
and i have to acknowledge that my year of buying nothing new is probably the reason i pulled it off. it's only three months in, and i've saved a whole bunch of money, paid the aforementioned loan, and started an RRSP. REAL GROWNUP ALERT. LOUD SIRENS.
getting organized financially has been a sort of unexpected side effect of this year. i figured i'd save a bit of cash by doing this experiment, but i've been surprised by how even a tiny pile has inspired a totally new mindset. it's amazing how once you've got a even couple hundred bucks saved, you feel super motivated to keep at it. it really doesn't take much money to get the momentum building. and, as my father-in-law liked to advise, "always pay yourself first!"
Showing posts with label spending money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spending money. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
why do we shop?
one reason for embarking on a year of no new stuff is my growing need to resist the crescendo of society's strongest current: crazyhyperspazconsumptionmania.
it's exhausting when ads shout at you from the billboard to the bathroom stall. to be constantly told you're incomplete. and though i love the gentle serenity of christmas morning, december's also a particularly striking reminder of just how crucial buying stuff has come to be, just how much meaning we've allowed it to have in our most intimate relationships.
this would all be very jolly and joyous if constant consuming made us happy. but it doesn't. it doesn't because shopping is predicated on the idea that something is missing, i'm not quite good enough yet. so i go shopping. fine, but now i've created an association in my brain between feeling incomplete and enlisting "things" to help me. how can the experience not be tinted with anxiety? and what if i shop for 19 hours straight and never find anything i really like?
we shop because shopping offers us a possible self. it offers us quick and easy access to who we could be. it tempts us with transformation. it tempts us with a self of the future, one who's better-looking, more organized, cleaner, trendier, healthier, smarter, less bored, more fun.
sometime last year, my cousin-in-law jen and i walked into ikea. we agreed it was one of the greatest, most exhilarating feelings ever experienced by man. after talking a bit longer, we nailed down why: ikea offers you hope that you can get literally your shit together. you could be so organized, you'll have your socks in alphabetical order. ikea sells us a way to organize external clutter, and we presume that the organization of internal clutter will follow.
ads for "stuff" prey on a very deep need to assert an identity. the best part? you can have billions of new identities over a lifetime. any moment could be a new beginning. it's 6:12 on a monday night. i could go right now to the eaton centre and within five minutes, instantly become someone who listens to gangsta rap. someone who has blond highlights. someone who reads science fiction. someone different. someone new. we learn who we are through what we consume.
and shopping can be sweet, because if you're feeling dissatisfied with who you are, it's never too late to start again. and all you have to do is part with a little money. seems like an OK deal.
it's exhausting when ads shout at you from the billboard to the bathroom stall. to be constantly told you're incomplete. and though i love the gentle serenity of christmas morning, december's also a particularly striking reminder of just how crucial buying stuff has come to be, just how much meaning we've allowed it to have in our most intimate relationships.
this would all be very jolly and joyous if constant consuming made us happy. but it doesn't. it doesn't because shopping is predicated on the idea that something is missing, i'm not quite good enough yet. so i go shopping. fine, but now i've created an association in my brain between feeling incomplete and enlisting "things" to help me. how can the experience not be tinted with anxiety? and what if i shop for 19 hours straight and never find anything i really like?
we shop because shopping offers us a possible self. it offers us quick and easy access to who we could be. it tempts us with transformation. it tempts us with a self of the future, one who's better-looking, more organized, cleaner, trendier, healthier, smarter, less bored, more fun.
sometime last year, my cousin-in-law jen and i walked into ikea. we agreed it was one of the greatest, most exhilarating feelings ever experienced by man. after talking a bit longer, we nailed down why: ikea offers you hope that you can get literally your shit together. you could be so organized, you'll have your socks in alphabetical order. ikea sells us a way to organize external clutter, and we presume that the organization of internal clutter will follow.
ads for "stuff" prey on a very deep need to assert an identity. the best part? you can have billions of new identities over a lifetime. any moment could be a new beginning. it's 6:12 on a monday night. i could go right now to the eaton centre and within five minutes, instantly become someone who listens to gangsta rap. someone who has blond highlights. someone who reads science fiction. someone different. someone new. we learn who we are through what we consume.
and shopping can be sweet, because if you're feeling dissatisfied with who you are, it's never too late to start again. and all you have to do is part with a little money. seems like an OK deal.
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