looking for the bright side in a basement

First off, living in a basement sucks. I actually requested the basement bedroom before I got up here, having the choice. Being the naive Floridian I am, I thought it would be an adventure! I've always had fun in basements! You know, the three other times I've actually been in one. Grown up lesson #86, basements are fun to play in. Watching scary movies, shooting pool, mario kart racing tournaments, far too elaborate lego structures. These are all things basements are good for. Basements are not fun to live in. They are dark. They are cold. They are damp. They are, depressing. Concrete floors and one window big enough only for a small child to fit through, is not how I pictured my life a couple months ago. I feel like a stowaway, a disfigured step child, an Anne Frank... Okay, too far. It does get to you, though, if you let it. And admittedly, I did. I realize that now and am doing what I can to fight it. But it's easy to let the small things bring you down when you're living under a house.

Hollerin' atcha from Nirvana Lane

Welcome to North Key Largo. Land of white people (save for the Hatians that clean up after them), golf carts, rock lawns, and foie gras. Where the price tag for a night's stay ranges from $380 to $2,910. Where residents pay $250,000 a year just for their address in this yuppie dream land. Of course that does not include the mortgage on the mansion, the lawn maintenance, the $63 glass of whiskey with the $38 prime rib, the 19% gratuity (ahem), the $12 movie tickets... oh and let's not forget the yacht parking space. But of course it's all worth it. After all, "Everyone enjoys the community's atmosphere of ease, and the sense of being among friends in the place where they truly belong." 


But to get to the point I was trying to make, I've been doing some thinking. Of course upon first getting here I had my typical Christina, cynical, judgmental reaction.  I can't believe these people waste their money and lives in this imaginary society where everything is taken care of for them and they never even have to think about "the other side", the real world and real issues, or even people who don't truly belong. There are people starving, and dying, and struggling every day. And these people are throwing parties in their mansions where they literally throw $100 bills around (reliable source). 


So on my bike ride through the concrete jungle today, I'm thinking, "Okay, be impartial here for a minute, what do you have an abundance of that you are wasting, Christina?" Well, swagger, for one. Talent. Beauty. Undying wit. Mad grammar skillz. Obvs. But really, it's hard to compare any non-monetary proficiency to, well, money. Honestly, the closest thing I've got is time. I've got a lot of time on my hands. Mostly always, but especially at this point in my life. Some might say I waste a lot of that. They might be right. My days down here are mostly spent lolling about in the sun and complaining about rich people. I'm not completely convinced, but there are probably more productive things I could be doing. The point is, I think we're all probably wasting something. But judging others for their choices isn't going to make me any less guilty.