Room with a view

Moved into a new place on Wednesday. I can afford it, but the lifestyle is going to be itemized and the receipts will be saved. I'm officially on a budget, which has never been the case before. Once upon a time, I'd look to my checking account the day before Pay Day, and if I had more than $100 in my account, I was winning. All the while, I was spending spending spending on all the things I didn't need -- like food, booze, and hair care products.

Family, friends, co-workers, and other networks expressed concern in my decision to upgrade. Perhaps this is because my record with money is not stable, but it started to get on my nerves when I realized that I've lived in quasi to full-on shady neighborhoods since my move to Chicago for the purpose of pleasing others. I've always been able to afford to be in a place with both safe surroundings and social offerings, but it was my fear of criticism that kept me in worse-off locations to appear humbled and fiscally responsible.

When in reality, my rental frugality only further enabled my social excess. And in the great scheme of things, how long will I be this free and this single? Or this able to control the means by which I stay thin, cool, and in the know? Each year I pull my tank top down a bit lower than the year before to protect my middle section. Each year I get more sleep. Each year I increase homemade meals. Why? Because I am growing up. I used to run around with as much skin showing as possible, stay up until three o'clock in the morning most nights, and I ate fast food like the Dickens. But, what seemed like the young thing to do (live in an inexpensive apartment) was really turning me into an old lady - renting in an area far from friends, centers of social activity, and increasing the need to order Dominos Pizza due to inactivity.

It just stopped making sense to pretend I was saving any cents in a place so far removed from the life I wanted to be living. To which I said, "No more." So, I decided to buckle down on the small purchases that have added up to my low account balances and be where I'm the happiest. And that's where other people are. I can now ride my bike to any of my closest friend's places in five minutes or less. I'm a wink from the bike path on Lake Shore, within a block of my absolute favorite cafe, and when I leave my apartment at night, I don't feel like I have to grip tightly onto my pepper spray (even though I do still keep it handy, Dad).

This is going to cost me. I've already downgraded my cell phone plan. Cancelled my gym membership (don't worry, there's a kick ass workout room in my apartment building). Put the kabbash on my Greenpeace membship (sorry environment). And I even opted out of Internet Service in my new place for the time being.

But what does all this sacrifice really mean?

I suppose my strategy for upgraded living comes from the first semester of my sophomore year of college. I was a frail and green Resident Assistant in Cobeen Hall, taking 19 credits, attending over six extracurricular meetings per week. While one might assume this was the most overwhelming period of my life, being that I'd just switched to a new area of study (advertising), was managing a wing of over 30 young women, tackling credits over capacity, and trying to maintain a social life -- they would be wrong. Quite wrong, actually.

Guess when I was the most physically fit? My first semester sophomore year. Guess the only semester I almost got straight As? My first semester sophomore year. Guess when I was happiest as a person and most pleased with not only my friendships but with my social life? You know, that one semester when I had so much going on I could tell you without looking at a calendar what day of the week January 9 would be on.

The relevance being? Forced conditions require more effort to succeed. And while this might be a backwards way of viewing my financial situation, I know it will work. Before I didn't care about my rent, and even forgot it a few times because it was so inconsequential. Now, I know I have to be more careful, and I will not spend as frivolously so I may continue to live in my Belmont Harbor studio. With my $100 per week of fun money, I will not eat out during the week, and I will not waste it on ridiculous things like a fourth foot scrub. I will probably lose weight from this change, which will of course make me happier - every pound lost is a smile doubled. I will party nearer to where I live, decreasing cab fares. I will not be able to afford those expensive places I used to dress up to attend, which will save me a lot of self-hate and douchebaguette behavior.

And I will of course find fun in the thrift of my new life. Riding my bike more, visiting free events throughout the city, making fresh lunches to eat outside on the grass rather than to be ordered and beastly eaten indoors. It seems only appropriate that in this new living environment I am challenging old habits and reintroducing creativity into daily decision-making. This is the crux of how I have always found entertainment, but unfortunately, up until this point - I suffocated my wants with my need to seem like a person with no concern for her living environment. And now, in my room with a view, it's no mystery that a weight is lifted off my shoulders.

Because I have to organize, plan, and observe my life in order to stay afloat. I guess I like living close to the edge - it's a constant reminder to stay sharp, focused, and to not fuck up. And it's just what I need right now.

Comments

[Dan]

Right on Sara. It's all about momentum; your life picks up pace and it maintains it, but if you stay still you grow stagnant and lethargic. I've been going through the same stuff. Enjoy the new place, I gotta see it.