Where did the winter break go? Here we are, recuperating our coffee-addict habits (unless you’re like me and it never left), blowing the dust off our textbooks, ready to face a new term. While most of us are wishing we were lying under UV-rays and sipping on an exotic drink, the reality is that we cannot afford it. Besides, when’s the deadline for paying off the winter term again?
As I was daydreaming of this palms-tree place, I realized there was indeed one way to have it all: win the lottery.
For a long time I held a grudge against my father for every time he would purchase a lottery ticket and as a matter of fact, I still do. He spends $20 per week on average on lottery tickets, week after week hoping he’s the lucky one. I may not have had the highest average in calculus but this is easy math. In the course of a year, he spends approximately $1,040 on lottery tickets. Has he won? Not yet.
I’m starting to think that these tickets are as addictive as caffeine. They sweeten our thoughts to a swirl of dreams: paying off student debt, for instance. Better yet, they make us envision the life we could have with the money we would have left after paying everything off: the unlimited vacations and the dream car that we could all so suddenly afford.
You might convince yourself that since you were always lucky at bingo, hey, they might just pick your numbers after all. Fortunately, I’m single-minded enough to convince you otherwise. Even after you win, you won’t get free access to “happily ever after.” We have to earn our makings.
Remember when you had to rip out your own baby teeth in order for the tooth fairy to slide a couple dollars under your pillow? Well, the concept hasn’t changed. We still have to make sacrifices in order to get a monetary reward.
I believe winning a huge sum of money has its honeymoon phase like any relationship. However, I also believe that it fades away after a while. Think about it: the lottery system is built with the intention of making you lose because it’s a game based on luck. It doesn’t appear that way when you lost for the first time because all they flash at your face is the grand prize, making you anticipate and salivate on the idea that you could be next. After realizing that your chances are slim, it kills your buzz for the lottery ticket affair. Now don’t get all heartbroken, because the good news is that if I’d put away $20 per week, I’d probably beat you to that dream destination anyway.
Let me remind you of the impulses we feel when the server brings out the dessert menu: you may be full, but you’ll find room, and once you start eating mindlessly you can’t stop. That becomes the danger—relentlessly investing $1,040 per year until you see the day you get crowned the winner.
My advice to you: don’t be a gold digger.
Recent Comments