I’m turning into one of the people I really don’t want to be.
I go to a college that, amongst the few who know it (it’s a tiny school), is regarded as academically excellent, if not somewhat intellectually elitist. I started in August swearing that I, the public-school educated, working-class girl I am, would not become ‘like that’.
I have.
I find my father’s jokes and puns horribly…sophomoric. I’m embarrassed by the amount of TV he watches. I cringe when I see the books my mom is reading: Nearly all of them are “Oprah’s Book Club” books, or flaky mysteries that boast they were #3 on the NYT Best-Seller list. It’s all pop-lit.
My college also, by neccesity, is really expensive. There’s excellent financial aid for those who need it, but there are also people who’s parents write a $40k check every year, no sweat. I know that at least one of my classmates could write that check himself, if needed: he’s from serious money. And then, I come ‘home’ to our house. Old, always in need of repairs. Our sun-room is incredibly drafty: rather than replacing the windows, my dad sealed them up with a layer of heat-wrap. The outside desperately needs repainting. We have framed nature posters we got in gift shops of National Parks as the art in our living room. We have no leather furniture. In short: It’s a nice house, comfortable, but clearly, the folks who live here aren’t rolling it in.
And I resent that. I’m embarrassed by the fact that my parents raised me to always buy the generic brand of everything. I’m embarrased by the fact that I do not have any car, to say nothing of a new one. I’m embarrassed by the fact that sometimes my parents are more frugal than they need to be.
I hate the fact that I care so much about that. I’m 18 and I’m turning into a yuppie. I shouldn’t care this much about money, or about appearances.
So, in short, fuck me. :mad: