I have fond memories of hitting up my capitalist freedoms in search of the perfect purse. The shopping mall, a department store, a thrift store-all had the potential for the next great find. A good purse found at a ridiculous price is like a badge of honor. When fashioning the newest piece at the next girlish gathering, you can be sure to catch the eye of a friend or two who will have to comment on your new bag and of course, gasp in disbelief when you divulge at what nominal fee this beauty set you back.
Sadly, my favorite bags have been retired. I now lug an enormous backpack full of books, paper, folders, a calculator (for those pesky dosage calculations!) and properly labeled plastic bags full of my handmade flash cards. Functional is now the word of the day and my brown and orange, triple-zippered behemoth is just that.
Some nights, while sitting at my kitchen table, I gaze out across the textbooks spread around me and catch a glimpse of my Ed Hardy inspired clutch as it hangs, unmoving from it's hook; neglected and empty.
I guess it's the silly things you end up missing the most when your dedication takes you far away from your normal routine.
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