Me and Paris Hilton

I can't believe that my first blog is going to be about Paris Hilton. She represents everything that I'm not. She's about nightclubs, sequins and dogs in her handbag. I'm about rented DVDs, sweatpants and a good cup of tea. And yet here I go...

Paris Hilton showed up on the cover of Maclean's magazine this past February. "The Money Issue" boasted the headline that "Money Buys Happiness." I suppose this is true if, like Paris, shopping sprees and being all shiny and sparkly makes you smile. Personally, I find Paris to be one of life's greatest mysteries. If I was born into ridiculous wealth, I wouldn't be wasting my time with drunk quasi-celebs, bubblegum pink accessories and reality TV. I'd be hanging out in the Hamptons, taking up horseback riding, learning to paint and reading the classics. Would the wealth be buying me happiness? No, probably not. Buying me laziness? You bet.

Sure, I understand that financial insecurity can be a source of pretty significant distress (I only had 2 1/2 hours of work on Thursday - a little unsettling). I also read that beyond an income of $50,000 a year (I'm almost halfway there), studies could find no corelation between wealth and happiness. Martha Stewart doesn't strike me as a bundle of joy; I think I'd be happier with small-town life than a Trump penthouse.

I'm part of the "debt generation." I'm supposed to ignore what I make and spend what I want. Unfortunately for my coolness factor (or lack thereof), I have this odd sense of obligation toward financial responsibility. In an effort to live within my means, and start paying off my student loans, I am presently the victim of a $7 haircut and am trying to figure out if I can justify owning a third pair of pants.

This blog is my story. I am NOT Paris Hilton. My apartment is smaller than her closet, and she probably spends more money maintaining her not-quite-Barbie appearance than I make in a year. Is she happier than me? Sure, I'm not dating the ex-boyfriend of an Olsen twin, but you won't find any evidence on me in your local porn shop.

Does money buy happiness?
Can I survive in the city without much of it in my new post-school world?

I guess it's time I find out.