Financialism Continues! More Made Up Words To Follow!

I love titling my posts. It's almost like I work for the paper.

I spent some time to focus on budgeting. Remember when I was complaining about my math skills and my monetary miscalculations? I just downloaded an app that I'm really excited about. It's called Moneybook. It's a fancy looking yet surprisingly simple way to track your finances and see how you're spending your money each month.

Will I be able to get with it and ride that bucking bronco budget bull like a big bad boisterous banker? Berhaps. I mean, perhaps. The paper system is obviously not working and lugging around a huge notebook spilling over with sums is the opposite of awesome. A sleek, portable style may be just what I need to stay ahead of the game. The game of Smell My Success.

Which is also the name of a blog I compose. Let's move on.

I condensed another bill onto my bank's website. The one I plumb forgot about, thereby generating a late fee. I shan't miss that payment again any time soon. By which I mean for another three months or so. I'm quite forgetful.

I remembered to maintain a couple snowflake payments. That's something else I tend to forget about. In addition, I made a little side money from some theater gigs to put on my slightly decreasing credit card debt.

It's been awhile since I've sat down with myself to go over my financial position. The fact that I did without mentally kicking and screaming impressed me (and I am NOT easily impressed) was a cool experience. For every two steps forward I feel like I take 1.6 steps back again. After a few weeks of seemingly little progress, I can see how it nevertheless adds up.

Set Your Intention

A few days ago I was in a sour mood. I felt physically uncomfortable at work, mentally fuzzy and generally anxious. It got to me that there wasn't anything necessarily going wrong at the time. Yet I couldn't shake that nagging irritability. When the mental spate passed, I recalled a little trick I took from Buddhism 101: set your intention. I learned this during meditation instruction. It keeps the meditator's mind more anchored and allows the sitting session to become naturally grounded. It's simple to do. You just take 30 seconds to a minute to remind yourself where you are, what you're trying to accomplish, and that you're going to do your best to accomplish it.

It's not just for meditation, however. Oh no, fool. If you transfer that 30-seconds-to-a-minute-intention to once in the morning after waking up and once more before bed, you may find a little more clarity and direction throughout your day.

As an example, I set an intention last Thursday morning before leaving for work. I said loudly to a voyeuristic squirrel, "I will endeavor to be deliberate and calm in my actions and my speech and my thinking. Because when I do this, I am a more effective communicator, I feel a sense of control, and I generate an aura of lightness and confidence. That's right, squirrel. That's what happens." Badda-boom! My brain was continuously kicking in to remind me of that little speech I made. I had a pretty good day. I attribute that to taking the time to permeate my head with a floating instruction as to how to present myself to myself and the rest of the world.

I picked that particular intention because lately I've been experiencing increased agitation and figitiness. This tends to occur when the seasons change and I become increasingly busy. Fall to winter is always my boon time for theatre projects. Oftentimes I'm running around too much to focus on meditation. Setting my intention is a good way to recapture the essence of that much-needed self-awareness without fighting for meditation time. To all my pals out there who sometimes say, "Ah, I need to meditate more!" I say, "Hey dude or lady or voyeuristic squirrel. Take two 30-second periods of time. One in the morning and one at night to remind yourself where you are and how you wish to be. Do it with optimism and in the spirit of curiosity and play with the world. You might just find life to be a little more bearable."

I mean, you have a minute, right? You don't? Oh... I apologize. I'm glad you at least found the time to read this post.

Prioritize and Proselytize

A few weeks ago, I had an eye-opening experience. A positive one. I didn't watch someone butcher children or defecate on children or force children to childrenize each other... just lay off the children, OK? Damn, you're obsessed! (We'll talk about the children later, after the others are gone)

On this particular even, I visited a friend for his going away party. He was taking off for California to find gold, I assume. He's a prospector. This friend told me that a girl we had worked with on a show was now a feature player on Saturday Night Live. In fact, the season's first episode was to debut that very night. So we watched the first half of the show (Why not the entire show? Because it's a fucking terrible show, that's why. Don't get me wrong. I'd work there if they came a callin.' But it's a fucking terrible show.). And there she was! Good for her, we cheered. I didn't know her well. I'm not going to pretend like I did. I found her to be a delightful lady and I enjoyed working with her, but that's it. What struck me, though, was that the show we worked on wasn't really all that long ago. We were in a very similar position for awhile. Watching her that night made me realize that... oh... getting paid to do comedy is actually attainable. It occurred to me that I don't really think I believed I could seriously get paid to do what I enjoy. I knew it intellectually. I knew it could be done. But I felt it acutely that night.

Well actually, I felt it Monday. As I was back at work, dropping Lucky Charms' marshmallows onto the gray faded carpet, hoping no one would see me pick them back up and put them in my mouth. My normally enjoyable podcasts felt a bit hollow to me. Most of them are hosted by comedy writers and performers talking about the things they've done. I was just listening. Not doing.

It's been a few weeks since then, and I've moved on to eating different cereals. But that feeling has lasted. Not in a pressurized oh-god-I-need-to-get-my-shit-together-fast sort of way. But in a collected, rational manner. The difference between me and that girl isn't in talent or looks or even in "who you know." It's that she knows what her thing is and she does it. She works her ass off at it. I know my thing, but I double-think it constantly and skirt the doing.

If I really want to pursue comedy and make a living at it, I need to work at it every day. It ought to be my priority. I need to step it up and get myself out there consistently. As cliche as it sounds, it's true that it's a marathon. So let's get to it. By let's, I mean me. You can help if you want.

There... that was easy. Am I making a living at comedy now? Now?

God damn it all! I blame the children!

Meeting of the Finance... Week... I Dunno... Eleventeen?

It's been a hen's year since I've brought up my financial life. The short of it is this: I'm still in debt. I have the same shitty job. Yet strangely enough, I remain optimistic. Perhaps that's the American in me. When I was 5 months old, I accidentally swallowed a tiny American, brimming with enthusiasm and a can-do attitude. Much like the Sarlacc Pit, it will take him a thousand years to be digested. That's my goofy American friend who lives in my body!

A while back, my girlfriend (nay, fiancée!), Jessica, loaned me some money to attenuate my burdensome credit card debt. Since then, I've been paying my card off monthly at around triple the minimum requirement. The only thing I've purchased with it since then has been an engagement ring. I've been scatter-shot about snowflake payments (I tend to do them when Jessica reminds me), but I have been making them. Despite my noble donations to the debt monster, paying off this card is a much slower process than I anticipated it to be. I'm not in a stagnant position, but I need to close the gap faster.

In addition to paying my monthly more-than-minimum fee and snowflaking (working on average $5 a week), I hereby decree that I will put all extra money I accrue outside my day job hours into the credit card. Theater work, monetary gifts, boons and prizes, petty crime... all will be funneled into my debt's gaping maw.

I say this a lot, but if I don't keep pounding it into my head and vagina, I'll never learn: I must be extremely vigilant about my finances. Last week I discovered I was overdue on a bill. I hadn't set up an email alert and I plumb forgot about it. That cost me $24 that I hadn't budgeted. I'm going to work to condense all my bills into one virtual arena so I can stop fumbling with papers and calendars and receipts. I mean, really. That's so 1998. My paper system in a fancy binder has been useful, but I have been making too many miscalculations and screwing up bill due dates far too often. My bad math skills (which I will eventually improve) are holding me back and, on occasion, costing me money. I will rectify this by getting it all onto my bank's website. And maybe I can find an online budget management site that will do the math for me... and hope I don't get a virus.

Making Smarties

Here is one of my biggest problems. I am interested in everything. I mean fucking everything. I am interested in history, evolution, bike repair, language, astronomy, meditation, music, information technology, psychology, sociology, insects, politics, everything. Even the things I'm not interested in... I'm still sort of interested in knowing more about. Like cars and real estate.

Not only is it impossible for me to know everything, but for whatever reason, I'm fairly lazy and prone to anxiety whenever I neglect another form of knowledge or task for too long. For example, a few months ago I wanted to reteach myself high school math like algebra and trig. I wanted to get into calculus, too. Math is a fear I desired to conquer. So I bought an algebra book and worked halfway through it before I became distracted by... well, life, I guess. After two or three months of letting the book sit untouched, I revisited my previous work and found I remembered almost nothing. I plan to re-familiarize myself with the material but I'm caught up in other interests at the moment. That disappoints me a bit.

I am performing an experiment. I'm two weeks into it, actually. What I'm doing is I am taking on several subjects simultaneously in small increments. The subjects I picked are ones that when I visualize 10 years into the future, I want this information at the ready. I am currently attacking three subjects. Spanish, astronomy, and vocabulary. Whee! I'm in middle school! Spanish is a 15 minute per day event. I've got my numbers down and I'm plowing through basic grammar. I have astronomy flash cards by which I will learn a card every other day or so. I will review what I have learned every day by quizzing myself. Finally, I made some vocab cards. I will learn a new word every day and try to incorporate it into conversation or writing. Does that sound egregious to you? I should hope not.

My hope is that learning in smaller, more concentrated doses will allow me to retain the new information for longer periods of time without getting burned out. I can afford 15 minutes a day to learn that la moto is feminized even though it ends with a masculine vowel. I'm already discovering that routinely quizzing myself with flash cards is an effective way to study. If you run into me, ask me how much the Hubble telescope weighs. I will blow you with knowledge. Blow you away, I mean.

Learning revitalizes me and builds up my self-confidence. If I administer learning 'shots' every day, perhaps I will see some positive results beyond information retention.

Marriage and the Monkey Mind

I sure have been away. But you know what? I'm not going to apologize or feel guilty for my severe lack of posts. I'm through with that. I've got a lot going on in my environment and in my mind, baby! A lot going on in my mind.

For instance, I became engaged. That's right. I proposed to Jessica and she begrudgingly said "meh," which sort of means yes. Oh, how must I pull the love out of her like a powerful marlin must be pulled ashore from within the oceans' depths! It all happened somewhat spontaneously. We were looking at rings for fun, discussing marriage as a possibility, and lo and behold, we came across a pretty little vintage ring that we both love. So I dropped some dough on it right then and there. It was surprisingly inexpensive. A little later on, I 'officially' proposed and we shall be wed next fall. Congratulations, me!

The idea of marriage has historically been difficult for me to come to terms with. My parents were divorced, some of my friends couldn't hold their marriages together, and those who stayed together looked as though weren't enjoying each others' company so much. Yes, I knew people with happy marriages. But they were in the minority. And who knew what was going on behind closed doors? It took me years to learn to love myself enough to accept a long-term relationship. The prospect of pushing that commitment even deeper has required a lot more work on the self. But I've gotten used to the idea and now I welcome it. It will be challenging. I have no doubt about that. But if I remain open and honest and keep my head, we'll be just dandy.

Eggplants & Apples

I had a nice, relaxing Labor Day weekend. Thanks for asking. I went apple picking with some friends. I threw an apple at a sparrow and its head cracked open revealing a trapped genie. The genie offered to grant me three wishes, but I said, "Screw you, genie. Why wish for things that aren't in the Now? The Present Moment is all there is." And with that he dissipated. I regret my wisdom. It swindled me out of an apple monster under my control, a personal harem, and a life-supply of ShamWows.

Jessica made a delicious apple pie and a peach buckle. We caught up on some episodes of True Blood (it's a deliciously gay season). We went food shopping and I made an eggplant stir fry over brown rice. Enough to last for a week of lunches! Take that starvation!

Here's the recipe...

It's easy to make, but it needed more soy sauce than called for. It goes well with 3 cups of rice.

I'm developing the habit of preparing large batches of scrumptious, healthy meals early in the week. It saves money and makes it easier to decide what to eat when I'm in a pinch.

If you have any good batch-cooking ideas that store well, shout 'em out. I need ideas!

It's coming for you, Barbara

Winter will be upon us soon, my children. The whipping winds of the autumnal season will be an harbinger of what is to come... freezing white death. Who can survive the snowy-cold sleep of Earth's Ice Maiden? There is no hope!

Yes, I am aware that it is September... but I want to be ominous and foreboding now!

Enjoy the heat while you can. Fools. Eat your popping-sicles. Shave your legs. Frolic in your garden of summery delights. But don't look behind you, whatever you do. Winter's icy grip will grasp your frail shoulder before you know it. And I'll be there. In the corner, laughing. Smoking a cigar, wrapped in my brown mink pelt with owl feather lining overcoat of "I told you so."

Second City Piggy

I am beginning my third round of classes for Ciudad Segundo (Second City)! Auditions for the next level were held last Friday. I did pretty well. I passed. Awesomeness has been had.

I was passed along a note by the head of the training center that I was 'leading' the scenes a bit too much. Which didn't feel good to hear, as I held back during the audition to avoid doing that very thing. I think I know what's up, though. I have a powerful stage presence and I give off an aura of confidence which I don't actually feel. But I can fake it. I've already been made aware that at least a few of my classmates were intimidated by me when we first worked together. I think some of that may have carried out on stage. They like working with me, but they may be letting me take too much leadership out there. Which makes me look like a scene hog.

Hey, sometimes I am a bit of a scene hog. But when I am, I fess up to it.

I have mixed feelings about this whole improv-Second City venture. I know I'm going to learn a lot, but it's painful to throw a lot of money into this thing and have everyone forget me when I've graduated. There are a lot of people taking classes here, and I'm just part of the crowd. The teachers are cool, but they've got a lot going on in their own lives. Should I be more proactive in some way? Like slip them a six-pack of beer and a twenty and say, "I just hope you'll think of me come company audition time." Yeah, that could fly. That usually works, right?

I need to keep reminding myself that the priority is to learn, have fun, and make friends. The theater community is all about contacts. That's hard when you're an introvert.

This class seems like it's going to be better than the last two. Our teacher is very hands-on and he calls people out on their bullshit. He did it to one girl last night. She cried! Then she wrote me an email asking me if I think she should quit. I talked some sense into her. She's going to bounce back and try harder, she said. I respect that. I need to take some of that advice to heart.

Clean up your act

Our neighbors above us have gaps in their porch boards. The dust and dirt they accumulate tends to trickle down to our porch which has no gaps. We're the only ones in our complex with gapless porch boards. Our porch is also in a corner which gets no wind, so when we get dirt, it settles. We have pigeons. I swear they must shave themselves regularly. After three or four days, the back porch looks like we slaughtered a flock of birds and overturned a couple flowerpots. Because of our windless, gapless porch space, we look like bird-killing bums.

Maybe I should get a canopy or a complicated pigeon feather gutter system. Or I can quit my complaining and sweep once every couple of days. It's a five minute job to clean out the feathers and sweep up. It's mostly just gross.

I've deduced that a good way to encourage clarity of thought is to organize my surroundings and maintain a physical atmosphere of cleanliness. A cluttered mess of a home seems to correlate with an irritable, claustrophobic brain.

Our apartment is sort of messy right now. We moved a bunch of furniture out of one of our rooms so we could paint it. We're almost halfway through, but painting is really no fun at all. So we stall and the clutter generates acceptance of more clutter... and now any form of cleaning is nothing more than keeping the beast back.

A good solution to this problem is to perform one act of cleaning or organizing per day in addition to whatever standard housework needs to be done. Anywhere around half an hour is effective. A couple weeks of this produces wonders. I've done it before. I can do it again. I'd better get on it before winter is upon us, too. 'Cause winter cleaning is rough.

I will not be dominated by my mess. I will mess up that mess.

I have a scanner. Cartoons to follow.

It doesn't leave me much money for food, but $30 for a seldom used printer/scanner/copier + ink is a sweet deal.

I like to draw, so on occasion, I'll throw in a few sketches to delight your senses. It'll change things up. Our staff is loose and fancy free over here at Smell My Success. You don't like that? Then you're a fascist and I have no choice but to change your mental regime.

This is a cartoon I drew a few years back. Let this be a lesson to you... Keep your happiness deep down inside!

Love,

THIS GUY <------------

You so complicated

I try to keep up with current events fairly regularly. I don't have as much time to sift through the news as I would like, but who does? Whenever I get hot and heavy over a particular controversial topic, it doesn't take long before I am staggered by the sheer weight of information available. It's as if I had access to some virtual realm where I could draw in material from the comfort of my own home... but such things are fanciful and will never be realized. The more I dig, the more convoluted and intricate the issue becomes - that's when I tend to get overwhelmed if I'm in sad mode. But more often than not, I feel a sense of awe over the amazing complexity of our world.

For example, I get ornery when I listen to fervent patriotism.

There's something about fervent patriotism that brings out poor grammar and sloppy reasoning. Such people tend to misuse language. They throw around words such as liberty and tyranny as buzzwords, doing a great disservice to the true depth of those concepts. It is as if it's sufficient to parrot stock phrases simply because the Founding Fathers wrote them down. That is intellectually lazy at best; sinisterly propagandist at worst.

When I hear those words, a myriad of things come to mind: The world at the time of the late 1700's and early 1800's when those words emerged as powerful tools of change, technological developments that changed the status of those tools over the years, routinely challenging previous sentiments, McCarthyism, various "Fatherland" movements that crop up throughout history, political exploitation, and lots more. And then I think about my reaction to those words and the people who wield them. Following that, I ponder my relation to their worldview in society, my place in civilization, and civilization in general. Then I eat a bowl of Lucky Charms and wonder where my afternoon went.

Such thoughts leave me bewildered and, as I said before, awed by the all-pervasive march of human endeavors. We're all just winging it in life. And we can't know everything. But were I to be a policy-maker, by gum, I would make it a priority to be a lover of knowledge. How on Earth would I be able to weigh in on issues that affect hundreds to millions of lives without a burning passion to know the facts that could improve the lot of the many? I would feel obligated to plunge the depths of scientific discovery, history, sociology, philosophy, economics, religion and more. How disheartening it is that so many politicians seem to revel in ignorance.

Perhaps I should just give up and paint an American flag on my face and hump an eagle.

My first stand up experience

Have I ever mentioned the first time I ever tried stand up? Oh course I haven't. I checked my blog history. Not a trace of that story.

It was back in college. I wanted to give it a go, so I wrote out some shit and grabbed a 5-minute spot as an opener for some road comedian. A road comedian basically makes his or her living traveling to different venues doing stand up. He does a set, drinks some beer, and heads off to the next bar or hotel. It's a lonely life. This particular location was a patio bar and grill. It was a warm spring night, I believe. The kind where magic can happen. The MC did a few minutes to warm up the audience before bringing me on deck. I was prepared and I brought some friends along to watch me. My girlfriend at the time, her friend from out of town, my best friend, and a few other pals. I was nervous, but I felt optimistic. I felt I was going to do well. After all, I'm a fucking funny guy.

So the MC called me up. I swallowed a mouthful of Corona and strided on out there all confident-like. I heard some guy off to the side say to his date, "Hey, he's already funny." He said it in all seriousness. I was doing great before I even planted my feet on stage! I approached the mike, opened my mouth to deliver my introduction and... nothing. My mind wiped clean. It was as blank as the face of The Blank from Dick Tracey.

I forgot everything I had prepared. I was frozen stiff. My mouth could barely shape words. All I could muster was a hollow "Woooooah-wuuuhhh." But I couldn't just pee my pants and leave. That's so overplayed. I knew I had to stick it out and pick up whatever pieces dropped out from my brain. Somehow I remembered some of my material and stammered it out as best I could. Not a laugh in the audience, by the way. I'm sure you've figured that out by now. Barely of tremor. Everything felt stiff and still and hours long. Oh wait. One guy said, "You're doing fine," when I bleated out some half-formed joke about not doing well. I'd rather have been heckled.

Well before my five minute slot was up, I got the light from the back of the house. That light means, "get the hell off stage." I did. I crept back to my seat and ordered another beer. To my credit, I was a good sport about it and laughed it off when the MC took the mike and mildly mocked me. The next comic went up (the 'middle,' as they call it in the biz), did his thing, and he in turn was followed by the headliner. Some fat fellow in leather who did an hour. Ten minutes was about how the ladies have orgasms on his motorcycle when he revs it up. Classy to the last. Steve Martin would have been proud.

I stuck out the rest of the evening and was ever so glad my friends departed. They were embarrassed for me, I could tell, but were supportive. I had good friends. Still do! I avoided stand up for almost a year after that. I was so mortified I couldn't even think back on that night without feeling like I was going to vomit.

But I tried again. I took up a guitar and devised a character and worked my bit to perfection. I went up at a local open mic and totally rocked it. The MC there asked the audience if I should come back again and they cheered. I was flying high. Since then I've done stand up probably three or four more times. But I was never interested enough to keep developing material and showcasing myself. I preferred sketch and improv.

Nowadays, my sentiments have flipped. I like the rawness and singularity of stand up. It's all up to the one person on stage who writes and performs her set. She ultimately decides her comedic fate at that moment. And there's so much brute honesty in stand up. I appreciate it so much more than I ever have in my life.

That's why I'm getting back into it a bit more. I've experienced more and I've found some renewed anger and wryness in myself that wasn't there years ago. I can hitch that to my wagon and hit the comedic trail like never before.

If I ever bomb like that again, I hope I'll be more aware of myself and take that gut-punching moment as a challenge. As I tell my friend Scott, "you gotta go up there and take the hit." There's something inspiring in that statement. I look forward to taking a hit again... I just hope the hit is telegraphed.

Where have you been?

Where have I been, indeed! What have I been up to? Where am I going?

Admittedly, my blogging has slacked off as of late. For a week, I felt too depressed to write. Then I became too caught up in my activities (and too wired in general) to focus on a blog post.

But I have been somewhat productive! I pushed through my lack of focus to put up a blog post elsewhere. It's for the theater company I do some acting and volunteering for. Check them out. They do good deeds.

I've also been writing some stand up material. I finally performed at an open mic Thursday night at the Chicago Center for Performing Arts. Unlike a typical open mic in which a performing slot is operated on a first-come-first-serve basis, this one involved picking names out of a hat. Or plastic cup smelling faintly of Mt. Dew. Out of 30 people on the list, I was the very first one to go on stage. Oooh, it's hard to open a whole evening of comics. But I did. How did I do?

Meh... OK. My goals were to have fun and NOT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD blank out on stage. In that sense, goals completed. The material was passable, but my delivery left something to be desired. I looked like I was having a good time, but inwardly I felt overly loose and slightly frantic. I was fighting to be relaxed. I'm sure some of that conflict shone through. I needed to be relaxed through and through and take command a little better. I got some laughs, but I had less time up there than I originally supposed. With so little time, I ought to tighten my material and make sure I get the stronger bits out sooner. I had some funny short pieces I didn't get around to before I had to close up my set. Oh well! That's much better than having too little material. Or freaking out. Which is the singular worst thing.

With practice, improvement will come. For a first time in years, I did OK.

I will go up again. Guaranteed. I really did have fun and I look forward to getting up there again. After I kick this flu. I was planning to go up somewhere else Sunday night, but I got sick. On WATER PARK day, of all days. That's right. I hit up a water park an hour and a half outside Chicago. I had good wet fun, despite my impending symptoms of disease and sunburn.

I'm going to keep blogging, even if it's a little sporadic. Perhaps 3 a week is a better goal than my initial 4-5 per week. Especially if I want to work a bit more on the comedy writing.

Ciao!

I feel weird

I've not been feeling my dandiest lately. I'm not unhappy really... I have a generalized sense of discontent. Like I'm wrapped in a towel that was recently cleaned because someone threw up on it. It's not a bad towel, but I can juuuuset make out the smell of vomit if I put my nose to it. I should be thankful for the towel, 'cause it keeps me dry. But that smell. It's there, I know it.

You get me? Maybe I'm having an existential crisis but I don't know it yet. Here's an example of how I'm doing: I've been a vegetarian for a few years. Somewhere around three. In the past couple of months I've been toying with the idea of just saying, "Fuck it. I want a hot dog." I felt strongly about abstaining from my carnivorous nature. I developed a habit of avoiding meat. But now that's all it is. A habit. For some reason, the passion and nobility I garnered from vegetarianism has faded. Intellectually, I haven't changed my mind. But last week, that "Fuck it" thought won out. I ate hot dogs. And pizza with ham on it. And it was goddamned delicious! I didn't regret it. So now I don't know what I am. I've not eaten meat all week. I'm still running off the habit. But I can take it or leave it.

I'm trying to be creative, but I sit there staring at a blank screen or piece of paper. Without a thought in that pretty head of mine. I think I have writer's block. I can't produce.

And every job I'm looking at to apply for is making me feel shitty about myself. I'm severely underqualified for everything but the shittiest jobs that appear just a little worse than the one I have now. After an hour of searching, my mind seizes up and I need to look at a picture of a kitten on a skateboard or something, just to feel something positive.

Or a kitten in a frog hat. Even better!

I think I have to force myself to get out. Because all I want to do is sit around and watch Toxic Avenger movies. That can't be healthy.

I wish I could focus on reading. I can't even do that! I love to read! It's my go-to activity. But it's boring me. What's up?

Correction: I started reading Sylvia Plath's journals today. Her writing is resonating with me. THAT can't be good!

My Sunday Meeting of the Finance Week 7

Sorry, faithful reader(s?).

I've been away for a week. I mentally checked out from this blog here.

It's really hard to maintain a blog. I haven't been in the mood to write a damned thing. It's partly because I'm jittery. The idea of sitting down to blog after 8 hours of being on a computer at work, compounded with using my home computer to find a job, is anathema at times. I'm on the computer a lot. It doesn't feel good.

Also, I gashed my finger. I made a splint out of a popsicle stick and tape. Typing is not easy when your index finger is wedging itself into the keyboard.

Also #2. My dad and stepmom have been pissing me off. Remember that bachelor party I went to? The one for my brother? Well, it turns out my folks were resentful that I buzzed through town overnight without informing them. That might be otherwise understandable, but my brother told them we were coming by and tried set up a breakfast together. My dad said that was cool at first, but a day after agreeing to have breakfast, he became angry and canceled. Because I failed to tell them in addition to my brother. I was stunned that they were so furious and was too scared to call them. Three weeks went by before I finally called... because I knew that the longer I put off calling, the angrier they would get. I smoothed things over with my dad, but they're still angry at my brother. This little scenario has contributed to my jitteriness.

What an awkward conversation I had with my dad. He's insanely passive aggressive. But I can handle him one-on-one. Usually our tiffs are exacerbated when he lets his wife fight his battles for him. She has an interesting habit of being simultaneously aggressive and passive aggressive, if that's possible.

Thinking and talking about them is exhausting right now. That's all I'll say for the time being.

Financially? Oh, yeah! The purpose of this blog! It's going OK. I had my first paycheck in which nothing had to go to a bill. That was quite exciting for me. I bought some shorts, a few songs for my iTunes, some new lunch containers, and food. I fixed my bike up, too. And purchased my brother's wedding present.

I'm going to make an effort to take every Monday evening to look for paying jobs/gigs. I feel I need some routine. But not too much. Some.

Sleep!

My Sunday Meeting of the Finance Week 6

Six weeks of Smell My Success!

This is the first time I've gotten a paycheck and not had to put any of it onto a bill. I'm going to have to put some aside for a wedding suit rental and $50 went into fixing my bike (I scored yet another flat 36 hours following its repair + brakes + a new bike post), train fare, and food... but after that, I can afford to do some things. Catch up on a little social-time, get some necessities for the apartment, maybe buy some extra shorts for the summer... snazzy shorts. Oh, yeah.

But I'm also planning to put some into the credit card. The debt still looms, though it may be sleeping in the shade of the mountain. Beowulf said that. Just before he cleaved Grendel in 'twain.

I'm about this strong. I do the Summer Fitness Beowulf Workout.

I've been skimping on the social scene, lately. It's not your fault. When I don't have much money and I'm a bit down about it, it's hard to invent free things to do with friends. I must buy their love or at least find a smattering of cash to share in their frivolities.

So... Today I went to the beach with friends. We later had some beers at their apartment. I'll be going to a beach in Indiana with them this coming Saturday. I also plan to attend a documentary about Troll 2, one of the worst movies ever made. It will be followed by the movie itself. Here's a taste of its awesome awfulness:

That cannot be resisted. I'm also planning to hit some open mic stand-up this week. I shall participate in the 'unleashing of jokes.' I did some stand-up years ago and I'm going to try my hand at it again. I'm nervous about it but I'm sick of relying on other people to get my ideas off the ground. Therefore, I'm going to experiment with writing and performing my own material. Creatively, I'm the only person I can rely on to mold what I want, and since I'm always around me, I'm the only one to blame for not showing up at a rehearsal or generating poor material.

Oh, yeah, I have to look for a job too. Shit. So much to do.

At least Queen accepts me

Really, life? Really? I have no money. I just needed to hold out for a measly two days until my next paycheck and you break my bike again?

My back bike break (say that ten times fast) clamped into the wheel while coming home from work. Yet another repair! As I have nothing for the train, I had to remove the break pad and hope I don't die Friday.

Oh, I'll die all right. It'll be a spectacular death. Just you watch, pedestrians.

Apparently I wasn't sad enough. So life threw an extra blanket of depression over me. Nice and toasty! The writing job I was shooting for (which I also had an in on) fell through. I got an email that essentially said I wasn't a good enough writer. I denied one job, another denied me. Back to square one.

You know, I'm aware that I'm not a tip-top writer. But I don't think the samples I sent in for consideration were that bad. The company was getting a high number of applicants. So hopefully I wasn't ripped apart by some nerdly drone, bashing me over "poor sentence structure" and "barely getting a grip of the English language." I did write the word cunt a lot. That's what edgy writers do.

This is a frustrating week. And why is it so humid, Chicago? Let up!

Each snowflake is different, but mine is an honor roll student

Summer is a battleground between the need to be thrifty and the desire to consume ice cream until I vomit it back into the cone. While the extra hour of light during daylight savings correlates with a decrease in crime and car accidents, it also increases the temptation to 'expand economically' and party like hell.

I just want to eat out on the patios of restaurants all day. I'd like to grab some brunch, shuffle up to a late lunch, and lurch over to dinner. Afterwards, it would be nice to hit a bar. And I would never fail to have a milkshake in hand.

But alack! No can do. I have a few days until I get paid again and I possess but a pittance in my checking account. My money left my hands pretty early these past two weeks. I thought I could hold out, but when I hit the home stretch, my bike busted a flat. I couldn't afford to fix it and I couldn't come up with more than two days worth of train fare for a five day work week. Jessica came to the rescue wearing a mask and cape as she often does, acting as if I didn't know her true identity. But I knew. I knew! She spotted me the fifteen bucks to repair the flat which will be reimbursed from a hutch we're going to sell this weekend.

I gave myself a ten dollar limit to spend on food for the week. I bought some tomatoes, yogurt, and a pineapple. I kept under ten dollars by $2.84. That paltry sum was shuffled over as a tiny payment to my credit card.

Isn't that a neat trick? It's a tactic I picked up called snowflaking. Snowflaking is a debt reduction method by which you take a small amount of cash you come across and flick it into that seemingly bottomless pit of debt. It's kind of like throwing a handful of dirt onto a festering corpse. It might not seem like it's covering up that man you killed, but it builds up over a long period of time.

Cover that up with dirt and you won't have to marry it!

Snowflaking can actually be fun. It's not the same as painfully committing a large chunk of funds. The small, almost silly amounts that go into my debt can give me the mental boost I need to take this on in the long term. Because I'm constantly putting payments on what I owe.

That will hasten my debt's demise. And the sooner I pay it off, the sooner I'll be regurgitating ice cream and shoving sandwiches into my esophagus.

My Sunday Meeting of the Finance Week 5

Sweet bedeviled army men!

I was indeed offered that job I didn't want. I told them no. They were a bit sad about it, but kind. I handled it well. I was totally smooth. Particularly for someone who dreads things and becomes over-apologetic when nervous.

I don't regret it. I really didn't want to get involved in that shmuckus.

And now..?

Now I continue to trudge along with the job I have. And look for something better...

My costs have been reduced (re: student referral and reduced credit card costs). The focus is on attainment. I shall attain my heart's desire. Mo' money.

...

On another note, I find that I am becoming antsy to act again. My weekly Second City class isn't enough. Engrossing myself in my financial travails and job hunt is necessary and even relieving, but creatively, I'm itchy.

I need encouragement. I need something to give me drive.

Yeah, that's the ticket! I'll sing my way to the top! Thanks Ellen Greene! Thanks Robert Morse!

To Yes or to No

I have a feeling I'm going to be offered that job I don't want. They called me while I was at work. They've been checking my references. I have to call them back.

I can't shake the feeling of guilt that comes from knowing I'm going to decline it. I have trouble saying "no." It's a lifelong problem I've developed. Whenever something is offered, I tend to automatically say "yes" to it. I'm unsure why, but when I say "no" to things, I feel awkward and ungrateful. I think I might also have a fear of regret. I don't want to kick myself for not taking up an opportunity that comes my way.

Basically this job would entail me getting bossed around by two intense doctors. I'm uneasy about the environment I'd be getting myself into. I'm a laid back guy. During my first interview, I had the sense this wouldn't be up my alley. During the second interview, it grew stronger. I know I don't want it.

But I'm nervous about passing something up that will pay really well and give me awesome benefits. And I really want to bust out of my current employment.

But I've met so many unhappy people who chose the shitty job that pays well. In no way do I want to embrace that. I'm not a golden handcuff sort of chap. Not when it comes down to it.

So I'll call them and hope like hell they just want to tell me to buzz off over the phone. But I doubt it. I gotta man up and deliver a thin-crust large "no" with shrooms and extra tomato.

The Velveteen Dance of Shame

Credit card application update... DENIED!

My library card, a few receipts, some loose change, and a big ole fuck you. That's what's in my wallet.

I applied for a new card so I could transfer my remaining $2,000 debt onto it. With 0% APR for about a year, that would have really helped me to pay it off quickly. But alas. My credit is not fantastic. I was aware I probably wouldn't be accepted into the cool kids' credit club, but it still felt like a shovel kick in the testes. And they answered back so FAST! That was the worst part. My application said allow one to four weeks for a response. But they denied me within a day and a half! That's just embarrassing.

But I guess I'm in an OK place. I have a student loan deferment until next January so I can focus on my current credit card debt. If I can land a better paying job within a month or two, I'll really have something to smack my sneakers about. Sometimes I make up old-timey catch phrases.

Increasing income is my most pressing business! I'm working full time at my job for now, but that can change in a flash. It also pays me in buttons and pieces of old felt. Were I a Velveteen Rabbit, this would be acceptable. But I needs me some cashums.

Cute!

Ode to a Fat Man

From his pancake feet

To his meatsock ankles

Rising up along his mushroomed thighs

Each leg as thick as a bale of hay

Supporting a buttery pelvis

His stomach overhanging

Like a dead, ballooning elephant seal festering on the beach

To his surprisingly concave chest

To his frothy shoulders

Wielding omelet-filled arms

Ending in micro waved kielbasa fingers

Unable to scratch his own filthy, padded back

Or his sandbag turret of a neck

Supporting a head like the moon

With bulbous ears, nose and eyes

Suffocating within melting facial flesh

To his margarine lips

Which –

If they kissed you

Would slurp and bubble as a bog would

From all these things that I have gazed upon

In wondrous horror

This was indeed –

The Fattest Man I ever saw…

That fat man… He was so fat.

Post Script: I wrote this poem a while back in honor of a very large co-worker I knew. I hold no grudge against the obese, but this guy had an unpleasant personality. Therefore, excuse my desire to share in the delight of wordplay at one fat man's expense.

My Sunday Meeting of the Finance Week 4

Check that. My Monday Meeting of the Finance.

Why? Sunday was Firework Day that's why. Which Chicago celebrates on the 3rd. Sweet, naive Chicago. The Windy City blows breezes of innocence.

It's to be admitted. I've slacked quite a bit over the past week. The $100 I saved over from the bachelor's party was invested in pizza, a fancy home-base dinner, and booze. I suppose I should have flung it toward the credit card or repaired my bike with it. But I couldn't do it. I wanted to kick it like Coolio. What's strange is that I don't feel guilty. I think my psyche felt the urge to relapse into old habits and not be ashamed.

There was a positive side to this experience, though, which shows I may have made internal progress. You see, after I blew the hundred bucks, I started to tighten up my finances again. Not perfectly, but more so than I would have over a month ago. Knowing I hit the hundred dollar limit caused me to renew my financial vigilance.

This Monday saw me hunched over my three ring binder where I sketched out my income-spending ratio. I paid out my bills, applied for a credit card with 0% APR for balance transfers, and sent out an application and writing samples for a staff writer position. AND I spanked the neighborhood cat for excessive foolishness. I was a whirlwind!

I've accomplished quite a few tasks these past weeks, but I haven't developed that love of thrift I'm looking for. I don't know if I can ever develop that. I'm just fighting to maintain my new habits. It sort of feels like I've quit smoking again - I have that visceral sense of deprivation and need to stick something in my mouth.

Insert oral sex joke here.

Quantum Chop!

Happy upcoming 4th of July, Superfriends!

And also to you, Smell My Success readers!

My dad gave me a book a while back that I'm finally getting around to browsing. It's called The Secret History of the World by Mark Booth. It's about... well... the history of the world from the perspective of secret societies, who hold hidden knowledge that YOU should know.

What is that hidden knowledge? That everything is orchestrated by intricate conspiratorial entities and that we are all projected from the mind of God and that science is narrow-minded bullshit.

Check out the opening paragraph:

The secret history of the world is a rude gesture in the

face of the know-it-alls who make up our intellectual

elite, the control freaks who would decide what is

acceptable for us all to think and believe.

That's the sort of level-headed introduction I like to read when I'm considering an argument. From there, it's as if someone took a couple hits of coke and threw up for 550 pages. At least there are pictures. But not a single one of me!

I'm only 50 pages into the book thus far, but it's a perfect example of a problem I have with people who make claims about anything: if you disagree with another position, do the homework on that position. Know what you're arguing against. This guy breezes through Schroedinger's Cat and the laws of probability in one page and gets it totally wrong! And he has the audacity to call scientists out for being dismissive and close-minded.

Personally, people who equate quantum physics and metaphysics are beginning to get on my nerves. Though I do admit to screaming "Quantum Chop!" during my 'inspired' karate-through-whiskey sessions. I'm thinking of founding a dojo.

I'm going to keep chugging through a few more chapters because my dad gave me the damn thing and he was excited for me to read it. Out of respect, I'll give it my attention. But, poooooh, is it painful! Partly because I used to be into 'revisionist history' and secret societies. But the more I looked into it and considered the claims, the less likely it seemed. Now it's just plain silly.

So, yeah.

The book is great. I recommend it. Everything in it is genius.

Droppin' a Monetary Duece

Aw snaps!

My mom and my girlfriend said they would loan me cash to help pay off my credit card. Remember when I talked about that? You don't? Go to earlier posts, my shit-for-brain friends.

My mom lent me $2,000. Jessica spotted me $3,000.

It all came through today. I just put it in the bank. $3,000 will be made out to the card this very morning, July 1st! The following sum will be transferred as soon as the check clears.

From there, I will make payments on the remaining $2,000. Then I will turn to paying off my loved ones.

And THEN, I work off those student loans.

And then..?

I blow it all on margaritas. Sarah Jessica Parker style.

Work hard, Junk-Puncher

War is hard. So is being hunted by a professional alien killer.

So are decisions. Yesterday I wondered if I should stay home from work to send out job applications (because I'm falling behind on that) or if I should go to work and get sure-fire money.

I decided to go to work.

I'm trying to build up my energy so I can put in hours and look for new employment. That's why I've been altering my sleep schedule and biking more.

My energy levels have gone up. I've definitely noticed that. So right now it's more an issue of not enough time in the day to get what I want to do done. That was a cumbersome sentence. But I'm keeping it. Because I'm late for work and editing is for junk-punchers.

Too legit to strip

No Sunday Meeting of the Finance this week! I got in from Washington DC Sunday night and conked the hell out.

My brother's DC bachelor bash was a success. There were a lot of b's in that last sentence. We booked (no more b's!) a nice penthouse suite and a private party room the next floor up. There were about 14 of us gentlemen total, and they were some nice fellers (except for one bearded dickweed who was mean to me. But he was drunk and obviously the odd man out, so I took solace in his innate bitterness and tried not to take it personally. The jerk.) Many of them smoked, and that meant I had to keep myself from bumming cigarettes. I'm an ex-smoker and it didn't take long to realize that quitting is a lifetime commitment. The craving will never go away. Vigilance must be had.

Yes, we hit up the strip club. I'd never been to one. Is that weird? It always seemed like a distasteful idea to me. A bit seedy, if you will. Not sexy at all. And why would I gawk at some writhing act performed by a lady who couldn't give two shits about me whilst crammed among a bushel of sweaty men who should give their money to the HOMELESS! The homeless give great handjobs.

The strip club was actually kinda fun. And benign. Everyone seemed sort of... I don't know... respectful. The dancer would do her thing on a neon stage equipped with standard pole and ceiling rungs, and every now and again some bloke would timidly approach the platform with a bill in hand. The dancer would dance close to him and shimmy about -- no touching -- and after some attention, he'd place the bill in her garter. And he'd sit down. It was all quite calm and orderly.

I must say the showmanship was awful. As one girl would finish her set, the next one would spray down the pole and mirrors to disinfect the area. Then the cleaning girl would take off her clothes and replace the previous one. No flourishing exits or entrances. No announcements or lightshow or fancy burlesque tricks. It was like trading shifts between merry-go-round operators. The girls were attractive though. And it was full on nudity, which was surprising. But maybe that's why the dancing was sub-par. When you do a tease with clothing, you've got to play it up. If you're naked, you can practically stand there and get some attention. Well, I do.

From there we went to our party room which was stocked with complimentary booze. The party went until 4 pm or so, but I decided not to risk missing my flight home by going to sleep. I stayed up with my brother's best friend from high school. We had nice conversation, watched the sunrise, and drunkenly looted a bakery.

A couple hours later saw me stumbling around the Pittsburgh airport wishing for death. Or a plane. Something.

Hey, you know what? I brought $250 for the trip. $100 went to my share of the hotel. Other than that, I somehow spent only $50 on food and booze and train fare. I kept a hundred bucks under budget! Not too shabby!

Now what to do about the hundred bucks. This is a financial blog, is it not? Should I put it on my credit card? More bike repairs (which I need to save on train fare and stay in shape)? Should I put it towards my brother's wedding gift? A little toward one and a little towards the other?

Decisions!

Higgs Boson Superparticle Band

Good Friday all! I shall be traveling to Washington D.C. to engage in bachelor party festivities. My brother is getting married... to another person! We'll be drinkin' and swimmin' at a hotel and rockin' out to the sounds of bawdy Irish ballads. Because my brother is a 60 year old Irish cellist.

I lie a lot.

But here is some truth. My student loan deferment went through! I have breathing room from those payments for six months. I've also maintained my biking, taking the train on average once a week. A nice little side benefit to this money-saving practice is that I'm getting in better shape.

Check out these abs:

I'll be back Sunday. I'm unsure if I'll have a Sunday Meeting of the Finance. Jessica's mom is in town over the weekend and I'm a bit behind on my week's checklist as it is. I have to search for a competing credit card, apply for another job, and practice my hook shot. My plate is full.

I leave you with the eerie sound of the Higgs boson:

Higgs Boson Superparticle Band unite!!!

My Messiah Be Rich

This blog is about personal development and financial independence. You know how I know that? I came up with it. I used my creativity to put those words in that order. Then I punctuated the end part thereby making it a "statement."

My priority is personal development. But my financial situation is so dire that it needs to take focus for the time being. But, say... being in control of my money is an important piece of the puzzle that is P.D. So my mission still holds!

In my first ever blog post (it feels like only two and a half weeks ago... I was so young) I briefly mentioned that I used "spirituality" to cover up my fear of money. Or the lack of it. Being poor was a sign of non-attachment to the world. It just wasn't important. It was a temporary resource, something we think provides happiness, but ultimately leaves us unfulfilled. Buddha gave up his riches. Jesus turned gold into candy and gave it to trick-or-treaters. They didn't need it. Therefore, neither did I.

I'm a materialist now. No less "spiritual," for lack of a better term. But I am not of the opinion that there is anything beyond the physical realm. At least until I see some good evidence. In the course of this shift to the physical, I arrived at the idea that money is a very important part of the material world (Shut it, Madonna). Sure, we as a collective concoct the idea of money and worth, but it still enables things to happen. It's a means of exchange. We require it to survive. And I want not only to survive, but to flourish.

My problem was viewing money as "bad." In truth, it's neither good nor bad. It's not the greatest goal to attain, but neither is it the root of all evil. It's a tool. With a hammer I can build you a house or break in your skull. I can build you a house and then break in your skull. Like a lunatic. In short, any crazy house-building person who kills people with hammers can have money or not. He'll still go to jail if you can catch him.

Money is a symbol. A true feeling of non-attachment should enable me to realize its necessity and proper utilization. I do need more of it. And that's OK. I'm not a pious monk with a begging bowl that doubles as a hat. I'm me. And I'll bring the hammer down on you if you try to make me otherwise. That's what Jesus would do.

My Current Job

When I'm at work, I have to clock out to go to the bathroom. I sit in a highchair. When I do well on a project, I am given candy. Sometimes I can't help but wonder... is my job trying to convert me into a gigantic baby? If I soil myself, will some matronly co-worker change me? Note to self: soil pants at work. Record results.

My job was always a bit dull and repressive. For the most part, that was OK. I would joke around now and again, do my work and go home. It was just some office job I could get through. Now and again, I was reprimanded for talking to a buddy or cruising the internet (never reprimanded directly, mind you. It was always passed along through someone else to avoid confrontation). I committed those heinous acts, to be sure. But I was no slacker. I still managed to do the required amount. I even occasionally went above and beyond my requirements. No biggie.

A few weeks ago, however, everyone on our floor was called into a meeting. About 60 of us were crammed into a small conference room. I was shoved up against a file cabinet in the corner, holding on for dear life. I relish being jostled while precariously perched atop office furniture. I assume that's what people think I'm there for.

This meeting was called to announce some changes. You see, a large piece of the floor I work on is devoted to a call center. I work in a hallway far removed from it. The upside is that I don't have to listen to monotonous phone-chatter all day long. The downside is that I'm in a cramped corridor where, yet again, I am jostled while precariously perched atop office furniture. The furniture in this case being my beloved high chair. I'm 6'2 and my feet don't reach the floor. Very uncomfortable. Baby no like.

Anyway, back to the call center. The folk who work within the center are prohibited from talking to each other while on the clock, as the phones automatically dial people across the country. No one wants a respondent to pick up their phone and catch the tail end of some inane conversation. "Well, I missed my period, don'tcha know, and I'm worried 'cause not only is he my best friend, he's a horse! And I don't want no horse babies galloping around my... a centaur, yeah. So I says... I... wha? Oh, good afternoon, sir. We are conducting a nationwide survey and I have a few ques..." The group is also not allowed on the internet. And if they have a question or need to go potty, they must raise their hand and wait for supervisors to swoop down and guide them like portly, bespectacled angels. Ah, the Corporate Divine!

This, of course, is enough to drive anyone mad. But rather than work to improve their lot, they banded together to complain about the rest of us. Those not on the phones. Because we can talk and be on the internet. We high-class editors and clerks are lording it over the rest of them with our e-mailing and asking each other "How do you do?" We are indeed bourgeoisie swine! Our regal lifestyle must come to an end.

And so it did. Their complaints were heard and this meeting was called to eradicate all internet usage and all non-work related conversation. If you want to use the internet, wait until your break and compete with two dozen people for three monitors at the 'internet station.' Use the internet at your own monitor and you're fired. No talking unless it relates to your project (that includes saying "good morning!" or "hi!" Seriously! That was brought up at the meeting! You can curtly nod or wave. But that's it!). You want to tell someone their shoe is untied? Go to the break room. Or the bathroom. Guys love shooting the breeze in the can. Any comic from the 1980's can tell you that.

Several weeks have passed since that meeting. It's very quiet around here now. One group of miserable people demanded we all become miserable. And so we are. The mood matches the gray carpeting, walls, and desks. So much gray... Luckily there's no window I can hurl myself out of. Maybe I can comfortably read my book during lunch. Unwind a bit. Nope. 30 people are vying for six small tables in the break room, and they're itching to talk. They have nowhere else to do it. Oh, and the clock on the wall doesn't work. I have no idea when I'm supposed to go back to my cramped hallway, so someone can smack a dolly into the back of my tree house chair. I take a deep breath of recirculated air and try to regain my composure. I allow the soothing subtle grays of my surroundings to put me in a stupor. I'd better not think too loud. My break is over.

So, yeah. Work is a wonderland now. But you know what? I'm going to get a new job. And eventually I will support myself on my own creativity. I really believe that. In the meantime, I think I'll waste some of my company's time by handwriting blogs. And daydreaming. I'll do the bare minimum. Because they created a big baby who learned that he's been taken for granted. Oh, and I farted on the pencil sharpener. Take that job! Passive Aggressive Chris strikes again!

A few tips to save money

Here are several actions I perform to save money that I've been doing before my financial overhaul. At this point, these things are habitual:

• Bringing my own lunch to work. The night before work, I carefully bag a breakfast snack, a lunch, and an afternoon tidbit. It's a ritual I do just before bed.

• I clean sandwich bags for reuse. Sandwich bags are easier than putting everything in Tupperware, but I feel bad tossing them out all the time. I started doing this for environmental reasons and discovered I only buy a box of sandwich bags once a year.

• Bikin' 'n Walkin.' In Chicago, this is easier to accomplish. I feel bad for you suburbanites or country folk who have to drive 5 miles to buy your Hustlers.

• I order tea online. I love English tea. But it's pricey in the physical stores. Ordering online is way cheaper and when I bring it to work, it keeps me from buying coffee. After a few months, my caffeine costs are much lower. 'Cause I gotta have me some caffeine, ya'll.

• Library books are FREE! Shut your mouth... Really? Shits, yeah!

• I use my shirt sleeves instead of toilet paper. Make sure they're long sleeves. When you're done, just roll 'em up to the elbow.

• I drink water instead of soda. Initially, I had planned to phase out soda for health reasons(I was passionate about Mt. Dew), but quickly discovered I was saving a few bucks a week. I don't drink bottled water, because that's a racket. I carry a Nalgene container.

What do you do to save money?

My Sunday Meeting of the Finance Week 3

The third week of my financial overhaul is upon me. I've recovered from my more despairing tone last post. After hanging out with some friends and watching Doctor Who, I feel revitalized. The weather's been kick-ass, too! Oh, it also helps to have money in my account again. This Sunday's meeting was primarily devoted to allocating these funds appropriately.

Because my bills were all paid off early this month and I've had decent hours at work, I can afford two looming purchases: my next semester at Second City and my brother's bachelors party weekend in Virginia. It's a huge relief to know I can swing it and not worry about rent next month -- if my work hours don't bottom out, I'll be able to cover that too. Plus some minor bike repairs and a major food shopping run.

I have breathing room!

I also have a good lead on a job that I plan to tackle this week.

Things are looking up, my friends! I can persevere! I can do anything!

Emotional Danger Zone

I suspect my mid-weeks may become pockets of danger zones.

No, Kenny. Not that kind. I mean emotional danger zones.

Much like last Wednesday, I'm feeling like I have to really push to get over the hump. Putting in a full week of work and using the bulk of my free time to dig myself out of this financial mess is exhausting. It took all I had just to check in on the status of my student loan deferment (it's still pending).

It's not like I had a bad day. This morning I had a job interview. I hope I don't get it. It's going to be a nightmare of stress if I do. I don't think it fits me and my personality. On the plus side, I interviewed well and they took me quite seriously. The night before, I rehearsed answers to questions I felt they would ask, I researched their company, and prepared questions of my own. I was confidant and relaxed. I looked ever so handsome. The prep work I put in really paid off. During the interview I noticed that I am much more hire-worthy and charming than I thought I was. I'm getting better at selling the product I call "Me." I was duly impressed with how I handled myself compared to previous interviews.

So it was a mixed success. I don't regret going because there was a little self discovery happening there. And I saw it as a valuable practice session for shooting for a job I would prefer down the line.

Still, I felt inexplicably disconsolate.

Afterwards, I biked to work for five hours. On the way home, my bike seat broke off. Sadness ensued. That incident pushed me into a bit of despair. The last thing I need right now when I'm trying to climb out of debt is to have my cheapest mode of transportation break down on me.

That and I've had a headache all day.

The weekend is arriving. But for now, I am drained.

Am I going to be able to handle the dips in energy while I'm trying to chip away at something that feels insurmountable? I have no choice, I guess. I'm really sick of being poor and static. But it's amazing that I am not yet two weeks into this challenge and my excitement is ebbing.

I'm going to take some asprin and pretend my water is a Guinness.