Last year, as I weathered out the rain and wind and mud and emotional wringing that Burning Man brought, I thought to myself “This is great: this shitty weather will keep a lot of people away next year. It will make it better for me. I’m so excited.”

Instead, I’m not going.

Not because of last year’s weather. Whatever: dealing with the mud and rain and wind and emotional storms was completely do-able. I’d done it the year before. I was more than ready to do it again.

But because of the MONEY. Somehow last year I dropped $800 on Burning Man. There was that rental car, the ticket, the money spent on costumes and water backpacks and headlamps and food and more costumes. I did indeed have an amazing time, but for a non-consumer event, I certainly spent a lot of money.

Lots of great things happened last year: It was at Burning Man that I met a man who convinced me to apply for the Columbia Publishing Course. I spent some quality time with my friends in the Moontribe community. I looked ridiculous. It was good.

But this year that $800 went towards New York. Was it worth it? Probably. But I’m still jealous as hell of all my friends who are packing up their tents and butane torches and heading southward.