Another week passed by, a week without financial PROFIT due to my reluctance to take on a proper job.
What the hell is my problem? Why do I avoid committing myself to anything? Why do I not look for a job? Something Hands-ON? SIgn a contract ...like the workers in the GigaFactory.
Instead I keep striving for a lifestyle like Carrie Bradshaw. How she's able to afford the rent for a spacious loft in Manhattan on a salary of a weekly columnist is unknown ...but she can -ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY! and that's all that counts and all that's needed... besides a 40,000 dollars shoe collection, tons of time for friends and sexual escapades.
So with this aspirational character in mind I went out on an average Tuesday and spend my "savings for rainy days" on a Prada suit. Returning home I sat down comfortably on my plush sofa in my spacious single apartment, logging into my bank account.
And just like that…I couldn't help but wonder whether I am actually nothing more but a pathetic hypocrite, pretending to be adrift.
Maybe I should stop comparing my life to Disney characters and millionaires but then again: To hell with grim reality bites, I'm here for the sparks.
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