All my life I have been chasing satisfaction.
My roommates have a name for it; they call it “Chris Tavolazzi and the Quest for Self-improvement.”
I can’t deny that they’re right. Most of the purchases I make are about throwing money at a fleeting whim, a vision of a life I could have, but probably won’t.
For example, I paid $40 four years ago for two pair of boxing gloves. I figured that I might like to learn how to punch, and sparring with my friends would be a good way of doing that.
I haven’t put them on in over a year.
A few more examples of unused purchases I’ve made in the last year: a subscription to National Geographic, vitamin and mineral pills, a whiteboard that sits on my wall, my work schedule from 6 months ago written long-solidified dry-erase marker, a glass chess set, various art supplies, a paper organizer that only serves to hold last semester’s leftovers, and various books promising to teach you to “take charge of your life in just 5 easy steps!” as if it were a half-assed cooking show.
Every time I start feeling down, the car keys and wallet come out and off I go. If only I could learn to hold off for just 24 hours…
But alas, I am weak. Perhaps someday I will learn what the mysterious and complex idea of a “budget” means and how to use it to turn myself from half-cocked shopaholic to full-born budgeteer. Only time, my friend, will tell.