I'll starve before working retail.

I can't do this, Sam.

I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

What are we holding onto, Sam?

That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.

-Frodo and Sam, The Two Towers

In so many words or less, Frodo and Sam's dialogue sums up how it feels being broke. When all desperate hope is lost, and Drexel still won't file my fucking work-study paperwork, then perhaps a new day will shine out the clearer and I can still go to dollar drink night. There are no other alternatives because I will cut off my trigger fingers before I even think about working retail. I know there are no drafts pulling people to work at the GAP, but it's still the principle of the thing. Almost like the time I decided I didn't want to pay for a nose job and decided an "accident" and "the insurance company" should take the financial blow. I mentioned it to my ex's younger brother, and he said he would gladly hit me in the face with a blunt object when I least expected it. I quickly lost my nerve when I realized:

a) He wasn't kidding.

b) He was fucking insane.

On the other hand, my financial woes are all of my own doing. I didn't have a job in NYC for six months because I figured I could use the economical powers that are Judaism. Even if it meant getting lunch at the $.50 hot dog place when I was "taking a walk" at work. The frequency in which I shop isn't helping as well, no matter how much of a deal I get. For example, the pro's and cons of my new Armani messenger bag I snatched up at a thrift store. Pro: I no longer have to use my bedazzled backpack. Con: That was 3 and 3/4 handles of Bankers club that could have been in my freezer. And I no longer have to use my bedazzled backpack.

At least I know the last of my wages went towards a weekend in Vermont. It wasn't that expensive because Danielle owns a room at the Killington Grand and we only had to split the cleaning fees between an engineer, math major, designer, and two copywriters. I mention our chosen professions because it speaks to the amount of alcohol that was consumed over the weekend. We basically drank beer, hiked, drank more beer, went in the pool, then brought gin to the pool. Between the ridiculous amount of carbs consumed and drank, I don't want to know how much weight I gained. Around this time of year when one needs to look good for slutty costumes, I usually keep a food diary in order to maintain some form of misguided diet. The following is my entry from yesterday.

Two Weeks Before Halloween:

Around 11:

Breakfast: 1 dill pickle spear, and an eggy in a basket (egg fried on a slice of wheat bread)

Going to try to forget the gnawing pain of hunger in preference of hand-washing a pile of clothes. They’re covered in (a tasteful amount of) sequins so the wash would not take kindly to them. My life is so difficult.

Wal-Mart won’t pick up the phone concerning my Optimus Prime costume. The nice old woman said they’re probably setting up the Christmas displays and can’t come to the phone. The cyclical pattern of consumerism amuses me.

Lunch around 3:

Trader Joe’s veggie burger with a splash of vinaigrette.

Snack around 4:

Three Brussels sprouts.

Gave up on talking to the incompetent and elderly who run the Wal-Mart phones and ordered my Revenge of the Fallen child's costume offline. Size: 8-10 years, husky.

I felt rather chilly while I was doing homework so I put on my taupe poncho I had gotten that morning. Brussels sprouts + online shopping + taupe fetish + poncho = beyond midlife crisis. Time to funnel a bottle of vodka and use my gym shoes solely to throw at squirrels on the bird feeder. All is bleak.

Around 5: hopefully dinner.

Two pieces of toasted wheat bread with a glass of orange juice.

I was feeling down about the whole poncho thing and craved carbs.

......Then I stopped writing because I binge ate everything after class. So much fail.