Talking About Bad Fred, Dreams, and Money*

I'm exhausted, and it's only 10am. I've spent the entire morning at odds with Fred, still trying to teach him not to jump up on my desk. The worst part is, he knows he's not supposed to be up there, but he's got this FTW attitude about it apparently. Even if I spray him with water, he just sits there and crunches up, looking disgruntled. Making matters worse, I recently resumed my daily workout routine, which has me completely stiff and sore. I couldn't even cross my leg over my other knee this morning. So I keep getting up out of my seat like an ancient crone to discipline Fred.

Reasons why Fred should not be on my desk:

1) Fred is a klutz. I don't think he knows how to gravity. He tries to leap across things he's not supposed to be on, like my laptop, but misses every time. A small part of me dies whenever I hear his claws scrabble across my keyboard. Alternately, he sits on my keyboard and minimizes/opens programs/switches language with a single touch of his butthole.

2) Fred is curious about cables. In a sort of destructive way. He bit through my newish earbuds cord on his first day, but luckily they were inexpensive to replace (another reason why I never spend more than $10 on headphones). Since he's been allowed free reign at night, we haven't found anything else destroyed. Still, it would just take one shot at my Cintiq cables to put me in a world of shit.

3) He likes to wedge himself in the tight spaces, as though this makes him invincible.

4) He likes to batter around at the bubble wrap I lay on top of my laptop at night.

5) He likes to hide under the curtain I drape over my Cintiq at night. Where all the cables are.

6) Fred's new interest is in investigating/drinking out of our glasses of water. It's only a matter of time before he knocks a full glass over onto my laptop/cintiq/hard drive/GotY Oblivion

7) I'm TRYING TO WORK, GOD DAMMIT!

Fred's favorite spot to snooze while I'm working

Or in this blankety box on the floor between our desks

I've been having a lot of strange, memorable dreams since moving here, and I heard that happens when you're in a new place or on vacation or something. The other night I dreamt that I was in the game Slender, though it wasn't in a woods-room, it was in an open industrial environment like the surface in Silent Hill or outside Dwarven ruins in Elder Scrolls. I was running from Slenderman nonetheless, and I kept checking behind me and would see him following. I wish I could have lucid dreams, because then I'd transform Slenderman into a Johnny Depp/Hugh Jackman as Wolverine hybrid (chase me!), but the most lucid I get is thinking to myself, "Okay, this dream is scary, I've had enough and I'm going to wake up now." I never fly in my dreams, and usually it's like I'm a 3rd person watching a movie.

Talking about dreams on a date is a last-ditch effort to seem interesting. Tim and I have witnessed it, and it's painful. Opening with "do you ever have dreams?" is not going to make the girl bang you for your intellect. She's probably too busy checking out pictures on Facebook anyway.

Last night while brushing my teeth, I started thinking about money. This is kind of a funny statement, because I don't really "start" to think about money. It never really began, and it certainly hasn't ended. I hope someday that I won't have to stress about it so much, because given how short life is, it's a shame. I think I read that you get to stop thinking about money around a $70,000 yearly income.

My family was poor, and I am poor now. This means that, growing up, we didn't do anything extreme and entire years of my life are gone from my memory. This also means that, as an adult now, I'm happy with what I have, guiltily aware that I have much more than others in need, and I stay optimistic about the future. But I'm really fucking sick of "splurging" on a $5 item at the grocery store. I'll never forget how, in school as a youngster, there was this group of preppy girls that I used to be friends with, and seemingly every week they would gather around each other before class and look at their stacks of photos taken on Block Isle or something. It wasn't until I think last year that the revelation hit me: oh, their families had money! That's why they went skiing every weekend (I've been skiing twice in my life, both times as part of a school trip. I am from Maine, and there are 2 ski resorts alone near my town). That's why they had really pretty jewelry and L.L. Bean fleeces and hair highlights.

But anyway.

There's this vicious cycle of needing money. You want to do things in your life, take up hobbies, keep a relationship fresh, go out with friends. Most activities require money. Little, little expenses (or big ones, like traveling) that all add up and make my blood drain when I look at my bank statement. I think about the things I spend money on and know I could do better. I justify to myself, thinking "well, some people go out to the bar and drop $30 or more per night! I don't do that!" or "this move getting a cat and apartment fixup cost a lot of money initially, but it's just a big chunk I have to spend once." It's awful. While I'm certainly more frugal than other people I know, and I make every effort to conserve and buy store brand or on-sale groceries, it's still never enough.

I thought about the things I own, and how necessary they may be. I thought about what I think about it. I feel as though my desires and expectations in life are realistic. I don't need a smartphone or the newest computer. Yes, I want a new computer, but that's because juggling 90 gigs of space for the last 5 years has been a major problem as an animator. I don't need the best-of-the-best. I don't need a house from a magazine (just the kitchen). I don't need a $2200 brown purse with Cs on it, I don't need brand-name clothes, a fancy car, and I don't need a $500 Crate and Barrel end table when I could just buy furniture from the thrift store and repaint it (that's more fun anyway).

I wondered to myself if I'm a consumer in the brainwashed American consumer sense. I definitely enjoy buying things, and get a real sense of satisfaction when I buy something on sale. I then wondered if that's not the product of being poor/frugal, or perhaps my own personality. If I had tons of money, I would buy gifts for people constantly. I see things in stores or wherever that remind me of the people I know, their tastes, or our inside jokes. I love Christmas because I like choosing special gifts for my friends and family and wrapping them up to look attractive. It makes me feel good to give gifts, but then again what if that's another subliminal product of consumerism and the holiday shopping attitude??

I really like fixing and improving things, especially around the house. The things I've been buying recently have been in that spirit, and it makes me feel like the money I'm spending is going towards something useful and more long-term than, say, an expensive meal out or concert tickets or something. It makes me feel really good to improve things. For example, the other night Tim woke me up in the middle of the night probably ten times, asking what time it was. He's so damn paranoid about oversleeping and being late for work that he can't even sleep through the night. The next morning I looked on trusty Amazon for a large digital wall clock, with nice neon red numbers that Tim can see when he sits up in bed in the middle of the night. He will be reassured, I will be sleeping, and everyone will be happy. Improvement. However, the digital wall clocks I found on Amazon all ran about $30, and if you think I'm going to spend that kind of money on a clock then, well, you're not giving me enough credit. So that idea is on hold for now, until I find something cheaper. Until then, it's half-our wake-ups for me every night.

I will readily admit that I have too much stuff. Before we moved, I really tried my best to downgrade. I'm severely jealous of the people who have a mere roomful of stuff and can move out with a small truck or their parents' trunk. When I think more on this, I could say that I'm trying to move on or separate myself from this "college student lifestyle." Yes, I want my home to consist of more than a dresser and a TV. I want my home to look "grown-up." I can also say that I have enough, meaning that I have the supplies or equipment necessary to facilitate everything I do regularly. All my hobbies, all my work needs, appearance/clothing needs, cat needs. I felt that I had enough 2 years ago. But I know that it's all just stuff, and that if a fire or something destroyed all of it, it would just be a pile of once-stuff. Maybe having these things, and trying to make our home as attractive as we can, is a denial/coping mechanism for being poor? Like an illusion? Tim and I both have the same attitude of wanting to leave behind the "crappy college apartment" vibe. Sure, he couldn't care less that the new shoe rack is made of cedar (and only cost $10!), but he is happy that we have one because now our shoes won't be thrown into a pile, college-student-style. It's grown up to have a shoe rack. It's grown up to have a Brita filter. That, and we undoubtedly have lead pipes (good thing I'm not getting pregnant anytime soon).

It's tough getting rid of things when you're an artist, and when you're poor (usually goes together). Supplies are expensive, especially glass supplies. But the reality is, I do 90% of my artistic work on the computer. Since school, I've either sold or donated the inexpensive supplies, and stored the more expensive supplies in Maine. When we moved, I tried to get rid of things that I hadn't used in 2 years, as well as things I didn't need that could be inexpensively replaced. I sold or donated things that could be used by other people. I donated perfect-quality, brand new books worth $25 each because to sell them online would have been a pittance. They're worth more as a tax break than actually selling them. And, you know, maybe someone in Allston wants to learn how to solder dogtags and stamp metal.

When it comes to cookware and appliances, which I have a lot of, I try to replace/upgrade things. No multiples. I buy things that I'm going to use often. And I do use my things often, but it still feels like too much. I'm taking this move, and then the full organization of our apartment after painting, as a chance to trim down some more on what I don't need. For example, a relative gave me a nice lemon zester we bought on the family trip last summer. I took it because it was brand new, nice design, and I didn't have one. I didn't want it to go to waste.

I hate lemon zest. I always omit it from recipes. What is my problem.


TL;DR: Fred made two stinky poops last night in quick succession.

*I realize that saying "poor" is relative. I'm painfully aware that there are people--kids--who face each day in a war-and-famine-ravaged country. There are people wondering if they'll have a limb blown off today, and I'm complaining about finding a good job. I am fortunate for what I have, and I berate myself daily for feeling bad about aspects of my life. While I'm not completely first-worlding it by complaining about lack of parking at the gym, I also don't want to sound like an ungrateful, oblivious asshole.