Ah, the sweet, sweet pleasure that is utter silence due to lack of things to have to get done at work.

I haven’t been writing much recently because there truly hasn’t been much time. Between our car breaking down and catching the bus to get to work early and stay late, by the time I’m home at night I’m only awake for another four hours or so before I think I’m going to crash on the floor if I don’t just throw in the towel on the day and get to sleep.

Work has been fine. I’ve gotten a lot busier and been handed off a lot more responsibility, which directly adheres to my self-esteem and perception of self-value, which obviously sounds like a stupid correlation to conjure when you’re aware of it. However, I can’t help it. I find a lot of value in work, in making my own money, in feeling like I’m contributing something greater to a team.

I have this consuming obsession with work when I’m busy at it. I can’t escape thinking of it–whether I’m on the couch babbling to my boyfriend about the tasks for the next day while eating tacos or dreaming listlessly and awakening to thinking that I’m in the office and payroll is due today. I’ve come to spend so much time at work in my waking hours that I have a true, authentic affinity for the everyday comforts in my office–the array of post-it notes on my wall, a scarf, the precise amount of steps to the bathroom and back.

It sounds a bit majestic to say, but I truly feel something in my gut, something almost archaic in my individual makeup, that innately understands that all freedom in womanhood comes from being able to support yourself fiscally. I’ve always inherently grasped that knowledge even when I was 14 working a part-time job and saved my first $1,000. Few things ground me more than knowing precisely how much I am making, when my paycheck will come into my bank account, how much I’ll be saving this pay period, mapping times when I know my spenditure will be fluctuating, the various sources of monthly pay-outs coming in from other avenues, etc.

All of this to say, people often scoff at others for spending too much time focusing on finances or what one wishes they had instead of what they do. In the greater context of the world, especially New Orleans, I’m well aware that I make a lot more money than the average person who takes the bus with me everyday. I’m extremely humbled by that knowledge. I know there are opportunities I’ve been given in my life that are absolutely irreplaceable that have brought me to this road of adulthood.

All of this to say, I also believe it is disingenuous for people to scold others for putting too much emphasis on money, especially women. I don’t think I’ll can forget watching my mother shrivel begging my father for a weekly allowance to buy me conditioner, or to buy us new school supplies, or shuttling us to and from historic buildings in downtown Annapolis in order to pick up daily transcription work from doctors to work on at night so she could have some extra cash to take us to the movies during lazy summers. There is an immense amount of freedom so intimately tied to being a young woman and having control over my own fiscal future.

That’s all.

P.S. I asked for a raise yesterday. Tried to avoid feeling like a brat and channeled my inner dude asking for a well-deserved raise. Updates when I get back from vacation in a few weeks. Cross your fingers.


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