Appaz money makes my world go round

Anything I say is probably never going to be a true epiphany, but I’m pretty sure I just realised that all the greatest memories, I guess recently, that I’ve had have been because money has allowed me to have them.  After finishing high school and the HSC and all that, I had the greatest holiday of my life.  Not even because I hadn’t been on a proper holiday probably since I was 11 and went to China.

I went to Thailand, I went to America, and visited all the major cities there and fell in love with New York, it’s as great as everyone says and as everyone portrays it in film and television…  Greatest love of my life.  I want it to be my life goal to live there, but I feel like I’m not even as brave or spontaneous (maybe I was never spontaneous) as I thought I was, I feel old now that I’m 18.  And not even just because I’m legally an adult, it’s that, I’ve gone through the system, finished the mandatory years of school and am now in the time of my life where I actually decide and work towards what I want to do with my life.

I’m doing an Arts degree, which really won’t get me anywhere, and is basically a 3 year stepping stone, but do I even want this stepping stone?!  I suppose the most obvious reason is that I have no other choice, I seriously have no idea what I truly want to pursue with my life, and this 3 year stepping stone is none other than obligatory, and I guess essential to moving on, and I think maturing…

Anyway, blah blah blah, in that holiday after I’d come back from my travels, I got a shitload of money because I was turning 18, Christmas and Chinese New Year all in a matter of two months.  This meant, a SHIT-LOAD, more than what I usually get.  It’s all gone now, which makes me very sad on how and why I’d waste it so quickly and on materialistic things, that in the moment, brought me pleasure.  (Hedonism?)  Although, I guess now I can look back and still think it was a lot fun, hanging out with my friends and just buying whatever I wanted.  I bought a lot of stuff…  My most memorable buy must’ve been last year when I went shopping and bought 2 dresses from Princess Polly in one go, adding up about $220?  One of them was the most amazing old school banana dress, with capped sleeves, and circle skirt, the raddest pattern and a massive open back!  I wore that to the Ed Sheeran concert actually, best use of an amazing dress ever!  And best concert, and first concert, I’d ever been to!  Ed was amazing!!

Anyway, went clubbing, bought drinks, etc. etc.  And it was all because I had money that was seemingly limitless that made it fun.  I mean I can’t even go out anymore since I don’t have money, and no one will hire me, although I haven’t actually sent out my resume yet since I haven’t seen the right job…  I mean going out can be expensive even when you’re minimal!  I.e. a low entry fee with be around $5-$10, pre-drinks $10, drinks in club $10, cabs around the city $15, night ride with a friend $3, but a fucking cab home if you’re alone and can’t walk home by yourself $75!!  So basically if you’re cheap, it’s around $50 to be safe, and $150 to be safe if you’re getting a cab.

Anyway, so basically, money is the key to my happiness, so what does that say about me and my values?  Am I materialistic?  Is it the world around me that has moulded me into only valuing things that cost money?  Or is it society for being capitalist and too darn expensive that I can’t enjoy even the most simple night out with friends.  Well maybe I’ll leave those answers for another time…  Time to catch up on New Girl!

Just Another Woo Girl

P.s. Game of Thrones premiere last night… Been too fucking long!!  Was godly.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s