Living Beyond Your Means? Does It Really Matter If Death is Around the Corner?

As an Aries (and as someone who doesn’t believe in astrology, but references it for her own benefit), I find myself feeling unattached to a specific lifestyle. I can switch from here to there when it interests me. Fickle is what some people may call me, and is a word I myself would probably use if I was an outward entity watching myself change every five months, but I resent that. I’m simply trapped in the endless inquisition that I could take an infinite number of paths in life and it would give me an infinite number of possibilities. Or maybe I am in fact fickle and simply in denial of that fact. Nonetheless, here I am, 22 and moving apartments again, not because it’s cheaper (quite the contrary) and fantasizing about a new life in the same city that’s housed me since 2001.

I’ve found that since graduating high school (utterly juvenile, I know), that each year has been completely, and I mean completely different. This year is no exception. My new job and eagerness to move my old stuff into a new set of four walls are the evidence. So in June I’ll be gone, and telling my kids in 2040 of my humble beginnings of my first shithole, fourth floor walkup, built in the 1920’s apartment will be the highlight of my life. This new apartment, however, is not a shithole but rather a renovated L-shaped studio where I’ve already imagined my decor techniques and how they’ll set the tone for the next twelve months. Important fact: it’s expensive, but worth it? This question mark is a symbol. A symbol for my grande confusion of whether or not I’m doing the right thing or being a stupid young person who doesn’t understand the value of saving (a feeling inspired by my family members).

I suspect the world has always been an interesting place, but my youth causes me to think that everything I experience is completely fresh and are things no one has possibly ever gone through before. Though, since I am addressing it, maybe it doesn’t. 2023’s debut of Toronto is interesting to be more specific. When I question my recent financial choices like if rent is worth it, if my spending habits are unreasonable and “should I be eating out again this month?” I gathered that it was time to do what I always do - the handy-dandy searching of Google. What I found made my eyes more that bulge out of my head, it made me laugh and truly a guttural, hardy laugh at that. Apparently, a rule of thumb when managing one's finances is that one's rent bill should not be over 30% of one's monthly paycheck. Using the word “one’s” helps me aggressively separate myself from this statement since thinking of myself in this category makes me sick to my stomach. I find it ridiculous to say the least. Grab a calculator right now. No really, do it. And check if this 30% rule is the case for you. If you live with your parents forget it (and I’m happy for you), but if you live alone or with a roommate I bet this number was more than a few bills over.

You know now that I am moving, which means I took the time to apartment hunt, which means I know the prices of apartments on the market now in the city I was raised in. From Etobicoke to Scarborough, it was common to see a one bedroom for $2200. So, the thought of maintaining a below 30% of your income while trying to live alone (which is something I think everyone should at least have the option to do) or a roommate is depressing because, based on the average income of Torontonians, it simply won’t happen.

Of course, being a stubborn Aries, my first instinct was to completely ignore this rule and do what I wanted to do, spend my money. As I continued to hand my debit card over to building management, I thought about the right to want to live well (whatever that means to people) and more than that, the disgusting and teasing pressure to live well. To have woken up and commenced your organic, vegan skincare routine in a modern skyrise apartment with a brightly lit bathroom with no heating pipes in sight is something I’ve found myself aspiring to since the internet seeped its way into my neuropaths. Without sounding vain, I want to live in what people may call luxury, but the problem is, I don’t see it as that at all. Maybe this is my communist influence from my 10th grade teacher in 2016, but I feel “luxuries” like living alone and having a space where a six foot woman can at least do a cartwheel is completely reasonable. Luckily, I grew up with a mother who told me I could do anything with a plan, so I have a disease that prohibits me from actually thinking anything is impossible or at the very least think that I shouldn’t get my way. I recognize that this may seem like blind optimism in a failing economy that’s caused the community to lose hope in the housing market and government, but since this delusion hasn’t stopped me yet, I’ll see it through.

It’s not only my mentality that forces me to think that spending money has no real repercussions, but being a product of social media has as well. I am what I like to call Social Media’s Test Subject. In the past, I’ve pointed out to many friends and family that people in my age group had to endure the negative and positive effects of the infamous Tumblr, Instagram, etc etc etc. This came with selfies, regrettable borderline inappropriate underage body pics and endless news about absolutely every tragedy going on in the world at all times. Compared to the 90s when global news was filtered by networks, I have the pleasure of watching a nurse being forced to stay away from her husband’s dead body after dying from Covid-19. Lucky me. Although the pandemic pushed this way of thinking, this influx of information started way before 2020.

So here I am, spending rent money, feeling 30% guilty for spending and 70% joyful to live on the edge since anything can happen anytime. Who knows? Maybe a rare tsunami will hit Toronto and the coin value spent on a 6th floor studio apartment will never have mattered. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve been a major control freak since I was a child and this mindset is just as new to me as it sounds irresponsible to you so bare with me. I’m still finding the balance between coasting and control, but as per the introduction quote from the mother of Solána Imani Rowe’s (SZA) 2017 album titled CTRL, “My greatest fear is that if I lost control, or did not have control, things would just be fatal.” I don’t think that’s a path I’m willing to follow. So… I’ll pack up my old into the new and if it doesn’t work out, my childhood bedroom turned storage closet has four walls still standing, waiting to be occupied by a 20-something girl who’s optimism was too big for her britches.