3:56 p.m. - July 16, 2004
Deposited my checks this afternoon. $12,608.40 in checking and I feel guilty for wanting a new pair of pants. Won't buy a shirt. Put off buying shoes because I have enough pairs already. I buy books but in batches of thirty dollars, never higher unless I'm at Powell's. I can afford to buy the laptop I want simply because my Compaq is too slow. I want it, I can afford it, but I won't plunk down the money. There is some power in denying myself, some form of control I wield. I wonder if those who have no control outside internalize it, but with money? I'd bring the topic up to Brad if he were still my therapist. I give money to the church, to SPU, to Safeway.
If I feel undeserving of indulgence or small luxuries like a new pair of pants, it is no wonder that I can pine away for my South America trip but will never go. When I'm dying I won't be thinking of the money in the bank. Images of travel and friends and walks on exotic beaches won't pass by; regret the color of red and magenta, the color of my regret, will be everything.
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