In Other Words, The “Shut Up and Shop” Magnet on My Fridge Is Meant to Be Ironic

Regular readers know I’m a big fan of living below your means. Earn more than you spend, bank some then leave it alone, don’t go crazy with housing, and quit buying stuff you don’t really need. (Yes, fellow Americans, this includes 3G phones, Kindles, and, gasp, even TVs. Want, sure. Need? Come on.)

So I was interested in Philip Brewer’s review of Daniel Brook’s The Trap: Selling Out to Stay Afloat in Winner-Take-All America on Wisebread.com.

Read the whole review, which gets into Brook’s more controversial ideas, but here’s what most interested me:

Brook talks a good bit about the limits of frugality as a way to do whatever work calls you. Many of the examples Brook uses are people whose work requires that they live in a big city:

- Activists who need to live where there's a critical mass of others with the same vision.
- Social workers or community organizers who need to live in the community that they serve.
- Creative types of the sort who can't just do their work by themselves the way a writer can — filmmakers, dancers, actors.

It's possible to live frugally even in a big city, but living very frugally requires not only luck and flexibility but also a level of constant attention that makes it hard to focus on the work that was the whole point.

I just landed another part-time job as the Advising and Tutoring Coordinator for the English Department at Queens College. (Witness my checkbook doing cartwheels of joy through the living room.) The job starts in two weeks, which means that if you pile my three part-time jobs together, I’ll be working full-time while I’m finishing grad school and writing the book.

I’m certainly not the only one with this kind of schedule, and am so, so grateful for the work. Really. But I’m sure I’ll soon be pining for my slower, simpler Taos life, where I was able to pay all my bills as a freelance writer. No stress required.

But then I wouldn’t be in New York, meeting new people, learning new skills, and practicing what I’ve learned, all of which are making me a better writer and teacher.

But then with all these opportunities, I’ll have far less time to devote to the writing, which is why I came here in the first place.

Also, none of this is forever. Part of me thinks I may keep up this crazy pace for a few years, then head back to Taos. But another part of me thinks I could be here for good, and both seem like great options. I also know it’s too soon to decide, but the conundrum interests me.

Which is more important to you: Opportunity or time?