(like this sort of stuff)
Now that I have a bank account with money in it, and a debit card with a number on it, I am free to waste money buying things for myself online, rather than going through my parents; it’s not like they’d stop me from getting anything (unless it was astronomically expensive), but there is a certain freedom to being able to order my own laptop case, or burn three quid on a Kairosoft game on the App Store all by myself.
I fear this freedom to an extent, because it makes the act of buying something online, regardless of the thing being bought, more personal, and as an extension of my impending independence (apart from food, washing, probably a bed, moral support and chauffeuring) from my parents when I move out in a fortnight, rather than a purely functional thing; this means that buying crap online is further incentivised, and I’m more likely to buy a game on Steam than perhaps I would if I had to make my parents aware of my every move.
But with great freedom comes an imminent reduction in freedom; soon I’ll be paying rent out of my account, and a few years later a mortgage, and laundry money. In time, the ability to spend money will become a functional hassle, rather than an enjoyable, activity.
But this just mirrors how money changes as one gets older; in youth, money is willingly spent on Crazy Bones and football stickers (if those things even exist any more), whereas money is later spent either on food, or on providing the money for the youth to splurge on their trinkets. Perhaps, then, I should enjoy this brief period, where I have some money and, for all intents and purposes, it’s disposable: I’ve bought three tickets to gigs this Autumn, about ten iPhone games, an iPhone case, a laptop and most of my university reading that is, after all, a thing I’m doing for myself and for my own enjoyment.
I just don’t envy having to pay for all of this for other people when I’m older.