08/7/2009



Photo

See this photo? That was about 15 months ago. I was at the Full Moon Party, an insane night of debauchery on a small island off the coast of southern Thailand. It’s a backpacker’s dream and a parent’s nightmare. In this photo I have glow-in-the-dark stars painted down my arm. I’m drinking out of a bucket. I’m wearing flip flops. My legs are sandy. I’m sunburned. I’m wearing a dress that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks. I’m wearing a bag that a mugger will rip open with a switch blade a few hours after this photo is taken. I have random entry-to-the-island bracelets on my wrist. And I am really f’ing happy. The photo was probably taken some time around midnight. Under a full moon. In Thailand. Right now it’s midnight in North Carolina. I just spent the last few hours paying bills and trying to organize some form of a budget for “Sarah the homeowner.” I’m wearing freshly washed pajamas. There are no stars painted on my arms. Is it weird that the idea of buying a house doesn’t make me feel happy or excited?  It makes me feel terrified and trapped. I know this is ridiculous. I understand that I’m an adult. I can’t go to parties under the full moon in exotic foreign countries for the rest of my life. I know that buying a house is a good financial decision. I know that continuing to live in Charlotte and work where I work is a good financial decision. I know that moving out of my current house is a good decision.  But then there’s this little matter of my heart. And my heart hurts every time I think about making this kind of commitment. My heart feels heavy when I consider things like home insurance and “waiting for the market to change.” I know I should be so grateful that I can buy a house. I know I should be so happy that I even have a job. But here’s the thing. Maybe people are different. Maybe some people are meant to make wise financial decisions and live in houses and pay home insurance. And maybe some aren’t. Maybe some are meant to do other things. Things that involve them being sandy. And wearing flip flops and unwashed clothes. And maybe the people who are meant to be sandy can buy the houses and work in offices and pay the bills, but maybe doing that makes them feel like they’re only biding their time until their real lives start. Until one day when they realize their real lives have passed them by. Uplifting thought, right? So, I guess I’ll see which category I fall under. I think I already know. But, for now, I’ll buy the house. And be happy there. And maybe, sometime in the future, I’ll sell the house and be sandy again.

See this photo? That was about 15 months ago. I was at the Full Moon Party, an insane night of debauchery on a small island off the coast of southern Thailand. It’s a backpacker’s dream and a parent’s nightmare.

In this photo I have glow-in-the-dark stars painted down my arm. I’m drinking out of a bucket. I’m wearing flip flops. My legs are sandy. I’m sunburned. I’m wearing a dress that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks. I’m wearing a bag that a mugger will rip open with a switch blade a few hours after this photo is taken. I have random entry-to-the-island bracelets on my wrist. And I am really f’ing happy. The photo was probably taken some time around midnight. Under a full moon. In Thailand.

Right now it’s midnight in North Carolina. I just spent the last few hours paying bills and trying to organize some form of a budget for “Sarah the homeowner.” I’m wearing freshly washed pajamas. There are no stars painted on my arms.

Is it weird that the idea of buying a house doesn’t make me feel happy or excited?  It makes me feel terrified and trapped. I know this is ridiculous. I understand that I’m an adult. I can’t go to parties under the full moon in exotic foreign countries for the rest of my life. I know that buying a house is a good financial decision. I know that continuing to live in Charlotte and work where I work is a good financial decision. I know that moving out of my current house is a good decision.  But then there’s this little matter of my heart.

And my heart hurts every time I think about making this kind of commitment. My heart feels heavy when I consider things like home insurance and “waiting for the market to change.” I know I should be so grateful that I can buy a house. I know I should be so happy that I even have a job.

But here’s the thing. Maybe people are different. Maybe some people are meant to make wise financial decisions and live in houses and pay home insurance. And maybe some aren’t. Maybe some are meant to do other things. Things that involve them being sandy. And wearing flip flops and unwashed clothes. And maybe the people who are meant to be sandy can buy the houses and work in offices and pay the bills, but maybe doing that makes them feel like they’re only biding their time until their real lives start. Until one day when they realize their real lives have passed them by.

Uplifting thought, right? So, I guess I’ll see which category I fall under. I think I already know. But, for now, I’ll buy the house. And be happy there. And maybe, sometime in the future, I’ll sell the house and be sandy again.

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