I have never been one for traditional piggy banks. For a good chunk of my adolescence, I kept my money in a box made of popsicle sticks that my grandfather glued together. Now, hiding somewhere back at home, I have a mason jar filled with cash and a plastic Snapple bottle crammed with coins. I gave them to my stepfather for safekeeping; I didn’t want to have any kind of access to it while I was away at school. I might have an official savings bank account, but the ease at which I can transfer money from it defeats the purpose.

I say they are “hiding” because, in the chaos of our ongoing house remodel, those two containers have gone missing. I cannot say they are lost because they are tucked away in a box somewhere, and as the saying goes, nothing is truly lost until your mom can’t find it.

While the thought of misplacing my actual savings obviously causes me some anxiety, it also provides me with a contradictory sense of relief. The fortunate fact is that as long as that money remains misplaced, it's out of my hands -- and my wallet.

I have another bundle of cash, kept together with a simple rubber band, that I acquired over the course of my first semester and the holiday season that I again gave to my stepfather. I didn’t want to take it back to school with me. My mother, knowing I need money for gas and other expenses, asked me why I didn’t want to deposit the cash. I answered simply -- because I want to save it.

I’ve never been one for saving money; I’m a compulsive impulse buyer. If I have money, I spend it. The acronym "YOLO" is definitely my motto when it comes to making purchases. Yet now that I’m older, I have pricier interests -- interests that require a little more than tutoring money. I realized that if I wanted to get what I wanted, I would have to bide my time and save my money.

My initial money mindset was fine when I was in middle school; I made money from odd jobs like tutoring and babysitting and had no expenses I had to worry about personally paying. High school came, and while I now had a car to put gas in, I also had two jobs to keep my tank full. Now, I’m in college. I decided not to get a job my first semester, so I could focus on acclimating to college life. While that might have been a decent plan, I didn’t quite think it through all the way. What I mean is, I wasn’t earning money -- and I certainly wasn’t saving it either.

Now the second semester is here, and I have no job and no money. Yet I have a group of friends who attend UCSD and a weekly tradition of getting ramen. That’s money I need not only to pay for food but to also pay for the gas so I can see them at all. I also have books and supplies to pay for, as well as other personal hygiene expenses.

The simple solution is to get a real job. That’s what I did back in high school when I needed more spending money. Yet I’ve learned, getting a job while in college is a whole different game. First I have to decide if it's even worth it: do I rough it and just work with the money I have? This means no more visits to UCSD. And my social life isn’t the only thing I have to worry about sacrificing.

I would like to be a student first, employee second. That makes finding off-campus employment very difficult. Most employers would probably rather hire someone who has a flexible schedule and open availability. I have neither. Job openings are looking for people to work morning shifts when I have class, or evening shifts when I have homework. Some want people to work on the weekends, yet the purpose of me having money is to have fun on the weekends.

On-campus job opportunities are elusive at best. I see the same people work the same shifts until they are magically and immediately replaced. The moment an opening pops up, its filled before word can even spread that it's available. The job fairs, during which SDSU supposedly hires people, happen while I’m in class.

I have a friend who snagged a job at the recently-opened Broken Yolk. She is a local and received her training for the job while I was back home during winter break. Although she is more than qualified for the job, I’m sure her availability was convenient. She received her schedule before the spring semester started, and was expected to plan her classes around her shifts or risk being replaced.

She takes mostly online classes so she can work the opening and closing shifts. She had the right components to secure the job, yet is still sent home early because the restaurant is empty and her presence is useless to the restaurant. She proves that even once you get the job, it’s temporary at best.

This semester, I will be caught in between three realities. The first is the one I’m living in now, in which I rough it and make what little money I have stretch as far as I can. That reality will probably involve little off campus enjoyment for me. The second is the one in which I devote a chunk of my time to a job, and hope my grades or social life don’t suffer because of it. The third involves me depositing my hidden savings, having a grand time this semester, all while sacrificing my goal of saving money. None of these options sound very appealing to me at the moment, but I guess that’s what it's like to live with the broke college kid blues.