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< watch the world spinning.. gently out of time | posted at 12:28 am on September 18, 2003 > that song by blur is in my head.dirt under my fingernails, sleepy eyes, aching body... I feel guilty today, as usual, it will clear in the morning and steadily build up over the day. through bludging around, through not getting as much done as i should. through neglecting people and being selfish. tomorrow is a long day, i have work and then photography, i still have to do both my prints and i can't for the life of me choose another photo because they all turned out so crap. where is the fucking contrast? i have a credit card bill of over five hundred dollars. this is (i justify to myself) ok because i have three months to pay it off and i pay back about a hundred dollars a week (and of course, i hope i'm paying back the older transactions and working forward. i check my netbank daily). in the back of my mind i do notice that i spend more than a hundred dollars a week on the card so this is possibly not the best way to handle things. and with a thirty-five hundred dollar limit (over three times the normal limit for students)... ain't no good at all. there is just so much stuff that i want and can't have, and i'm not just talking materially here - but that, too. and yet every now and then i think i do have a lot, materially, that was given to me besides what i earn, and i hate myself for being cultured into this private school girl who thinks that it should be normal to own a house in sydney, to have paid high school fees in excess of ten thousand dollars a year (though i attempt to classify myself as not a snob by always pointing out that i did not pay these fees due to a scholarship - which only, then, highlights my own narcisisstic attitude towards my intelligence), to buy clothes that cost three digit figures top and bottom. that if you're over twenty-five and you're working in retail you haven't done enough for yourself. that i am ashamed at where i live because it is not rich enough. i hate that part of myself, i hate it, i hate it, but i can't stop thinking it, and i try, but i just can't fucking stop. i need to be making substantial amounts of money (six figure amounts) by the time i am forty in my own mind, and i thought i could handle this not being so (it won't happen my loves, not in my chosen field), but fuck, it's just been fucking drilled into me. oh i hate it, i hate myself. i hate that i try and live a completely creative lifestyle and love the work i do for the work i do without having to think of the money aspect and yet am so hypocritical in thinking that i want to create art and then expect the dollars. fuck! i don't even make sense. it's too late at night. it's all just so fucking.. useless. those last five |