Ah, what to say about money?
For starters, I do believe that money is the root of all evil. At the end of the day, money is what matters to most people. Not love, not family, not friends. People kill people for money. I’m not gonna list all of the fucked up things people do for money because that’s not what this blog is about but please keep in mind that people do ALOT of fucked up shit for money.
I didn’t grow up with money. Have I always had a roof over my head and clothes on my back? Absolutely. But have I experienced what it’s like to have the electric cut off? Yes. Have I went to sleep hungry? Yes. As a matter of fact, I went to sleep hungry last night. I haven’t had it as bad as some people but I also haven’t had it as good as others. It’s unfortunate and at times I do feel bad for myself but I also feel as though it has shaped me into the person I am today. I don’t care about name brands nor am I ashamed to say I don’t have the fancy shit that other people have. I don’t have a dozen name brand bags. I don’t drive a Mercedes, BMW, or Lexus. I don’t make six figures a year. I don’t have name brand shoes (besides my sneakers). I don’t have expensive jewelry. I don’t really have anything that’s expensive now that I think about it. But you know what? I don’t feel as though I’m missing out on anything. I could care less about a Louis Vuitton (definitely searched for the correct spelling on Google) bag. I could care less about a pair of Red Bottom shoes. It doesn’t bother me that most of my jewelry is fake or that I didn’t go to an Ivy League school. I don’t make a crazy amount of money every year. Shit, I don’t even have health insurance. But material things don’t materialize to a better you. I’d rather be a good person, an honest person, someone who’s wise and caring and thoughtful than someone who’s miserable with a shitload of money in the bank and “Dr.” in front of their name. I’d rather have fun watching movies with my loved ones on my $9.99/month Netflix account than be miserable on a yacht with people who claim to love me but really only love me because of my bank statement and reputation.
With that being said, you can keep your name brand shit. I honestly don’t want it.
Being a good person is priceless.
The broke and happy lesbian
Yes, this blog has two titles.
You know, before I start writing, I have A LOT to say. I think about many things at once, but once I start writing, I kind of forget about everything I was thinking about and I end up writing a half-assed blog. It’s half-assed because it isn’t thorough. This blog is going to be thorough.
So, my birthday is coming up. As opposed to experiencing 24 hours of happiness, I usually experience many different emotions and a lot of these emotions are negative. I get really emotional because I have such high expectations which I know is my fault but I think that a lot of us have high expectations on this particular day of the year. Personally, I want to feel an abundance of love. I want to feel as though my birthday is important to people. I want to know that my existence matters. I want people to go above and beyond. But this doesn’t always happen. As a matter of fact, I’m usually unsatisfied and unfulfilled. It’s my fault, I know. I know I’m not being a good Buddhist by attaching such high expectations to my birthday. It’s something that I plan on changing and I plan on changing it with this upcoming birthday.
I’m going to spend most of my birthday by myself. I plan on sleeping in (always a blissful thing to do) and then taking a trip to Brooklyn. I plan on getting a coffee from a nearby coffee shop, going to a bookstore that I found online, and reading for hours. If Mother Nature decides to let the sun come out and play, I’ll read my book on the grass in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Maybe it’s kind of odd to want to spend your birthday like this but I’m really excited. I’m excited to spend time with me on my day. I’m excited to enjoy my existence. I’m excited to not worry about how many people also enjoy my existence. And that leads me to my second title: quantity vs quality.
I complain about the way my mom feels about gift giving all the time, especially around Christmas. She wants to see a lot of presents under the tree. She wants my sister and I to have a lot to open on Christmas morning and she also wants a lot to open on that special day. I try to stress to her that gift giving is about quantity and not about quality. I’d rather get ONE thing that I’ve been wanting for awhile as opposed to getting five things that I can live without. I should stop complaining about this though because I’ve been the same way for awhile. I have valued quality over quantity plenty of times, particularly with friends. This goes back to being emotional on my birthday. I want EVERYONE to know that it’s my birthday and expect EVERYONE to wish me a happy birthday. But why does it matter how many people wish me a happy birthday? This year all that matters is WHO wishes me a happy birthday. I’m going to place more value and express gratitude to those who wish me a happy birthday without a reminder from Instagram. Those who watch the clock and wait until 12 am to wish me a happy birthday. Those who call me and text me. Those birthday wishes are the ones that matter.
Pay attention to the birthday wishes that you receive and remember that quantity is more important than quality. I personally believe that it is better to be wholeheartedly loved by a few rather than insincerely loved by many.
The trying to be perfectly lonely lesbian
PS: Thank you for the lesson.
What does happiness look like to you? What does happiness feel like to you? How many happy people do you know? Do you consider yourself a happy person? Happiness is a topic that we love and hate to talk about. We typically love to talk about it because we’re all searching for it but we hate to talk about it because many times we realize that we aren’t happy or at least not as happy as we want to be. But wait, there’s hope! Here is my suggestion to anyone and everyone who comes across this blog:
DEFINE HAPPINESS BY YOUR TERMS.
Is a white picket fence, 2 kids (one boy, one girl), two cars, and a four bedroom house your definition and/or image of happiness or is it society’s image? Is it your mom’s image? Your dad’s? If this image of happiness comes from a source other than your own, RECONSIDER IT! Society will attempt to convince you that happiness is rooted in the “American Dream.” Instagram will attempt to convince you that happiness is rooted in the number of followers you have. Twitter will attempt to convince you that happiness is rooted in a retweet and/or favorite from your favorite celebrity. Shit, it doesn’t even have to be your favorite celebrity. If ANY celebrity retweets or favorites your tweet, a smile makes its way across your face. If your Instagram picture gets a minimum of 11 likes, a smile makes its way across your face. If a handful of people wish you a Happy Birthday on Facebook, a smile makes its way across your face. Now I’m not saying that these things can’t make you happy, I’m simply suggesting that you pay attention to your definition of happiness and ask yourself, “Is this my definition of happiness?”
And now a tidbit from my conversion with my best friend, Lianet.
“If you were smoking crack, I’d be like, ‘Is ya’ happy?’ like T.I. and if you express genuine happiness then I’m happy! I’d tell you that you’re fucking up your mind and body BUT IF YOU HAPPY BOO BOO, SMOKE YO CRACK!”
This is an extreme example but you catch my drift 😉
The lesbian who will never stop seeking happiness