An Embarassing Fixation with Luxury
As it’s been said countless times, “we always want the things we can’t have” and as with most cliches they’re said frequently because they are so true. In my household we’ve been tightening the belt to higher degrees of constriction with every passing month, and while we are getting by it’s by a sadly narrow margin. What is embarassing (which probably won’t surprise you if you read the title) is I’ve been increasingly fixating on “luxuries” while we struggle to stay afloat. Now in my behavior I’ve been utterly responsible, putting in all my earnings into the family till without resentment or complaint; in fact, this blog post is the first I’m even admitting this so I’m not even complaining and bringing people down.
But goddammit’ I’d love to blow some money on some stupid self indulgent shit.
It does make sense really, it’s much more fun to be sensible with your money when you have the option; so it’s a choice not an obligation. Hell I felt guilty because I had to drop an ill afforded five bucks on fast food a few days ago when I was running too late to eat at home, but I’m daydreaming about vacations and nice restaurants. Don’t get me started about wanting stupid stuff either. We still need to fix the main computer so I am grateful that Charles lets me use his often, but I still drool over music equipment catalogues with the enthusiasm most people reserve for pornography. To top it off I’m not even gigging right now & am barely playing because I’ve been so busy with the kids & stuff; but there I am thinking “Wow, $1000.00 for that bass head and cabinet is such a great deal.” That to me just smacks of jackassery on my part. When not salivating over refridgerator sized amplifers, it’s new basses that really get my juices flowing–even though I already own 5 that I just admitted to not really having time to make the most of.
I just find these thoughts and feelings embarassing, even though they aren’t doing anyone any harm. After all I’m a supposedly grown man faising a family, and I feel like when I was a kid mooning over the “Toys R’ Us” X-mas wish book; if that kid’s internal monologue was by Charles Bukowski at least. But since blogging is something I can afford while therapy is something I cannot, here is where I work it out.
Being human does involve trying to live in this world by the with of our primitive, apelike brains so I guess it’s normal to have a certain acceptable number of moronic thought processes, like rat hairs in peanut butter we’re all allowed a few.