Soon after arriving on campus as a freshman I found myself navigating the long hallways of college almost furtively, quietly darting between the large archways of the turn-of-the-century building, afraid to cause a stir lest I be told that my acceptance to this institution had all been a mistake and could at any point be revoked. I carried with me a constant fear of being found out, believing that revealing my secret would result in the loss of my newfound status as part of the privileged elite – someone considered worthy of educating.
Going on Trial to Prove I Belong
Thursday, March 8th, 2012A haiku about money
Monday, January 30th, 2012Piled high, folded neat
I hear money call to me
Pilar, save me … please
I Love Money
Wednesday, July 6th, 2011Recently, my partner, who was raised working class, called me out about an emotional block I have around money. He said, “As long as you hold onto the idea that money is dirty and evil, you will never hope to make any of it.” He encouraged me to repeat after him “I love money”. The best I could manage was a passionate “I hate money! Money is evil!” Where did this attitude come from?
