|Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
||[Apr. 21st, 2006|08:07 pm]
I have a 1-2 (not sure of the size exactly) carrat diamond now on my hand. It is flanked by 8 1/4 carrat diamonds. They are real diamonds. All perfect. Why you ask? Have I become engaged to someone who I never cared enough to tell you about? Did I just decide to waste thousands of dollars on an extraneous purchase?|
Oh, no. Of course not. I spent a whopping $35 for my bling. At good old Tar-gee. But the diamonds are real. How can this be?
Well, the diamonds were created in a lab, rather than dug out of a mine somewhere in Africa. They are absolutely perfect. They're chemical structure is identical to "real" diamonds. They cannot be told apart from "real" diamonds, because, for all intents and purposes, they are real diamonds. But they're apparently pretty cheap to manufacture. And they are so lovely. I very much enjoy that I can wear a huge diamond on my finger for next to nothing. I love technology. F**k you De Beers and the diamond cartel. I hate the idea so much that love is supposed to be proved by spending $5K on a ring. And it rather delights me that the same ring, absolutely identical as far as the diamond, the cut of the diamond, and the gold of the ring, can be found now at Target for under $100. Of course, if you wanted a particular cut and style, you might have to bring the diamond to a jeweler and have it recut, and reset and all that. Which might cost, oh, $350.
In other news, today was my last day of work. I'm done. While part of me is enthusiastic and very much looking forward to both going to Europe and moving to Hong Kong, another is undergoing a panic attack...asking "what have I done? I had a job...an OK job. I had a career. I had steady income. And now where am I?" But it's for the best. And I think that my schedule needed an upset and here it is. It's just frightening to know that I'm out of work.
After quitting, I went on a packing frenzy. I actually threw out something like three trash bags worth of stuff. It's a remarkable amount. It reminds me of the fact that, to go to Hong Kong, I basically have to get rid of most (not all, but most) of my material posessions. It's upsetting, because I'm strangely attached to all these possessions. But there's something liberating in throwing them out, too. It feels like I'm ready to move, ready for change, ready for a new life. And that I'm not defining myself (much) by what I own. Which I suppose is quite Buddhist. How appropriate, considering.