If you were an attorney or an accountant and you said to someone, “I’ve been doing this job for two decades and am finally starting to make money at it,” people would look at you like you were crazy.
My friend Kate is a baker and pastry cook. Not a famous chef; just like, a working person. But to me she’s the best example of someone who “did it”; who had a moment of doubt, completely shifted careers, and has made it work. I thought it would be interesting to talk about that.
I think if reading the money beat for a year — certainly not something I read before this — has taught me anything it’s just that there is no right answer for anyone. I can share with you my reaction but I don’t think it’s ever necessarily the correct one. We all bring so much shit to the table. I love that this is a place where we discuss said shit, and our feelings about it, or just an honest accounting for how we’ve dealt with it. Sometimes a good old Cost of Things is much more illuminating than any of our ideas about any of it.
I like to think I don’t believe in psychics — I don’t! Do I? — but also I am afraid of them in a way that belies my disbelief. I want to say that you can’t be afraid of something you don’t believe in but the brain doesn’t work like that, does it? I’m afraid that psychics are real, or more specifically, I’m afraid that if I get too close, I’ll believe in them against my better judgment. I feel about psychics the way some people feel about that flirty married guy in the office who is exactly your type and you just know you have to stay away from him. I don’t trust myself to not get carried away.
Emily Gould continues to write essays that unearth all the feelings under our barely-conscious money behavior, i.e., essays that we wish she would have written for us. This one is an excerpt from that one book, Women In Clothes, which is an anthology filled with writing by women that focuses on “style and its deeper meanings.”
By the time I got back to the apartment, greeted by a smiling baby, it was 11:30 a.m. I’ve been up for five hours, haven’t done a lick of work, and have to feed the baby again at noon.
Over at n+1, a reader writes into Kristin Dombek at the Help Desk, asking for help to cope with her feeling of being exploited by work, and the “white-hot festering rage that runs at all times in the background of my day to day.”