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Friday, December 16, 2011
Sorry ladies this isn't one of those fab moments of Dior saddle bags, cosmopolitans and it restaurants.
Rather I sat in my office and listened to my adjacent co-workers talk about their investments, how they've diversified their IRA's and opened money market accounts when they were seventeen and how it's a great time to buy up cheap stocks.
I mentally dipped out to fix the buttons on my Ben Sherman dress shirt (patterned after the Marimekko I'm inspired by but can't afford.) I took the premature withdrawal in hopes that the continuous calculations of how to juggle birthday parties this weekend, holiday parties the next and new years the next while still paying rent weren't legible to anyone nearby. Plain and simple: I don't fit with this financially fiscal crowd. Nothing's fomenting for me in some stowed away account except hopes and prayers
See much like Sarah Jessica Parker's signature role, my interest over the years was towards inappropriate dress, magical evenings and witty banter
My stocks are null and void but my late nite liaisons have been quite diverse. I got no home equity but an unending portfolio of tales for the grandkids.. or at least the next cocktail party. Invitations being the bold print letters I'm getting in the mail.
Luckily for fantasy land Carrie Bradshaw she learned how to marry well and all was happily ever after and a walk in closet
My real life self worries. I know my fair share of creative types who ain't got a house of their own to piss in. Rent paying, still struggling. And that's definitely one list I don't want to be on.
So with my impending birthday on Sunday, I can't help but wonder: is it possible to never give up the youthful pursuit of play and still have to work for it?