A Trust Fund Baby Without a Trust Fund

I'm playing hooky today. Sort of. Ok, not at all. I took the whole week off. But, it didn't feel like it, I didn't get that I'M FREE (!) feeling, that "I'm out here and everyone else is in there so hahahahahha!" feeling (I know, not so mature, but nontheless...). It just felt kind of, mneh. Until yesterday. When everyone else, all those other people, went back to work. I noticed a difference immediately, when I rolled out of bed at 10 (my ideal time to wake up! By the way, I seem to have decided that the use of italics is going to be the sub-theme of my post today), and there was no line at Starbucks! Not only was there no line, there were hardly any people there at all! And almost instantly, I got that I'M FREE (!) feeling, and I settled into my vacation. This is what I love about days off:
-An empty Starbucks
-No lines at the drugstore
-Only a quiet few benevolently straggling through Target
-(I can get everything done so much more quickly!)
-Taking a late morning or early afternoon yoga class, where no one's toes come remotely close to my nose, my feet are in no danger of whacking someone in the head when I do downward dog split, and I have an unobstructed radius in which to gracefully, widely, swan dive in the full expression of the pose.
-There is always the option of balling up my oppressive To Do list, chucking it into the trash, throwing on my bikini, grabbing my beach towel, and heading out to the park with a rolled up copy of Oprah Magazine (or if I am feeling really liberated from the responsibility to be/know/do more, Marie Claire, or the most liberated choice - Cosmo) tucked under my arm. The real, non-trust fund me, may indulge myself in an hour or two of lying out in the park, but I will bring some kind of responsible reading that has the distinctive feeling of being an assignment or an obligation, and promises to enrich me in some very obvious way.

And then, there are the less tangible reasons I love these kinds of days - the feeling that I have no responsibilities, no where to go, no where to be, and nothing to do. I pretend that I am the kind of person who does not have to work. I pretend that I am the kind of person who can follow her fancies, desires, and whims at every turn. I pretend that I can wake up early, or I can sleep in; that I can grab a bagel and head to the beach, or I can sit down at a corner outdoor cafe for a giant plate of pancakes. I pretend that I the most important decision I will have to make that day is the type of coffee I choose to drink (and as a Starbucks addict, this is actually, no easy decision to make).

In short, I pretend that I am a Trust Fund Baby tooling around this glorious island of Manhattan at my very own pace. Only. Without a trust fund.

A friend of mine made this up. She took a month off after leaving a job and before moving to California. I asked her what she was going to do, and she said something like: "Live it up like a trust fund baby without a trust fund!"

I used to waitress and work nights. I would take a yoga class at noon, or maybe 2, and I was obsessed with the other people there, like, who are they? What do they do? Why are they here, OM-ing, in the middle of a sunny afternoon, as if they have no where else to be? Sometimes I would corner fellow yoginis in the dressing room and ask them what they do for a living. I justified this by pretending that I was on a research mission, collecting data about how I could become one of these Ladies of Leisure. What I would have to do to live this life for real. A lot were dancers. Several waitresses. A writer or freelancer or two.

I want to pretend that I could meet you at Fred's at Barney's for lunch if we so decide, or stop at Saks to pick up a thing or two (although this is highly unlikely as I can count the number of times I have shopped at Saks on one hand, and they mostly include times that I had been given a gift card. Plus one run-in in the jeans department which proved to be way too overwhelming, despite being told by a friend who knows these things that a salesperson there would solve all my denim woes and find the perfect fit for me). Maybe you'll see me strolling lazily through the park, and wonder, who is that girl without a care in the world?

Until then, I am sitting at my computer, listening to Jill Scott, eating sweet juicy pineapple out of a plastic deli container, knowing that on Monday I will have to return to work again, and that the knowledge of this makes days like today all the more sweet and worth savoring.

Enjoy the day!

xoxo,

Jen G.