I feel partly sheepish that nearly all of my cultural allusions come from The Simpsons, but I just can't help it. I spent so many days looking forward to that hour of afternoon/late evening reruns that were about the only decent programming available on my rabbit ears. Now all the sight gags and one-liners are just stuck up there.
Have you ever seen the one where Marge finds the pink Chanel suit at the outlet mall? If you haven't, it leads to her joining the country club. In order not to look poor, she uses her sewing machine until late hours of the night to alter it so it looks like a different suit, since she can't afford a new one.
The way I feel right now is some derivative of this. This weekend I accepted an internship in NYC that I could never have gotten if I had not come to MIT. But for all this time and effort set into self-improvement, I'm still a graduate student with no cash to speak of. The sun came out for the weekend, so yesterday I strolled around Jamaica Plain and today and I strolled through Allston. At some point along the line I took a look at myself and saw this: my Sketchers have blown out the sides from too much walking, my favorite pair of jeans feature a burgeoning hole over the left pocket, my pea coat, which I repaired over the holidays, has lost another button, and my year-and-a-half-old glasses have just about had it. And I am in no position to do anything about any of this, unless I borrow some more of Mister Sam's money, which I undoubtedly will.
Ah, to be young and broke. How romantic..and simultaneously disheartening.