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Money. Guilt. A Work in Progress.

posted 25th September 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Job/Career/Work, Life Lesson, Money, Renee, Season 3

Money. Oh dear. Just thinking about it gives me an ulcer. Writing a post about it makes me weepy. This post breaks my own heart.

As a waitress and a grad student, I don’t have a lot of income. My wonderful husband has a Real Job, which pretty much keeps a roof over our heads. (An overpriced, very finicky roof.) We splurge on HD TV and iPhones because football season and smart phones are important to us. But we’ve had to cut way back on a lot of things.

For a couple that used to go on weekly or bi-weekly dates to restaurants or bars, we rarely go out anymore. In fact, just today we went out for breakfast, our first meal out in months. That bacon-spinach-mushroom skillet was incredible.

Thinking about money always makes me feel guilty. It’s the reason I run myself ragged teaching, taking my own classes, and waiting tables. If I don’t work my ass off then I’m not holding up my end of the bargain. If I don’t burn my fingertips at the restaurant every weekend, if my legs aren’t too sore to stand, if my email isn’t blowing up from my students, if there isn’t a stack of research on my desk then I feel like I just haven’t earned that latte. And those half-priced jeans? Don’t even think about it. I constantly struggle with the guilt of spending. I don’t even get to the point of buyer’s remorse because I never actually buy.

One of my Big Goals is to be financially comfortable and we’re just not there. Here’s the thing, though. I very well could treat myself from time to time, more often than I actually do. I justify all purchases. “When I finish my first paper, I’ll browse Old Navy.” “When I put all my laundry away, I’ll look for winter boots.” “When I make over $100 in tips, I’ll treat my husband to Ben & Jerry’s.”

Yes, there’s a pattern here. Because even if I browse Old Navy or look for winter boots, I don’t actually get anything. I’ll browse Old Navy and carry five new shirts around the story, only to put them all back (unless one is 80% off and only $4). If I look for winter boots, I’ll search Amazon, Zappos, L.L. Bean, and Overstock for weeks only to decide last winter’s boots aren’t that worn out. And I justify the Ben & Jerry’s by telling myself I’m satisfying my husband’s craving, even though the only person who touched that pint of Dublin Mudslide is me.

If I spend any substantial amount of money, I just don’t feel like it’s earned. I just don’t feel I earn enough in this household. It took me weeks to justify the $60 I spent at Gap in August. Even though it was $60 for two pairs of $70 jeans on sale with a coupon. Even though I literally had no jeans that fit me correctly. Even though I needed jeans for school. It hurts me to spend anything when then amount I bring in is minimal.

Will I ever feel comfortable spending money? Will I ever actually treat myself? Will I ever legitimately splurge? Will I ever earn enough to feel comfortable? These are the questions that loom. I look forward to the day I can treat myself and not beat myself up over it for the following week.


[via procsilas]

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Live Like You’re Dying

posted 24th September 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, All Posts, Family, Job/Career/Work, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

One of the unfortunate side-effects of aging is watching your loved ones die.  Five years ago I lost my maternal grandmother; two years after that, my paternal grandmother died.  Last year my father-in-law lost his battle with cancer.  Then two weeks ago my grandfather passed away from the same evil disease.  It’s just the circle of life, I know, but it still scares me.  I am scared of a lot of things (snakes, the paranormal, having a wardrobe malfunction in Target while baby-wearing) but what scares me the most: dying before feeling like I ever really lived.

I have already had a little piece of myself die.  I think of the years around the onset of my bipolar as a slow, painful death.  Whatever was “Alisha” then, withered away and was buried.  Now I am on this seemingly endless journey of re-birth.  I am rediscovering my passions, redefining my values, renewing my confidence and strength.  Foolish me thought these tasks would be easy, but it is hard work.  It is so hard that I worry I will not finish all of it in time to live my dream life.

I honestly and truly believe that I have the potential to be and do anything.  While this is an amazing belief (in which my confidence always wavers), it is also overwhelming.  I have so many passions and interests, notebooks full of ideas and theories, a running lists of careers I want to pursue.  (And I want to pursue them perfectly.  I’m also working on that perfectionism stuff.)  Yet, I feel bound by many constraints.    At 2.5 and 1 year old, my children require constant attention.  From tickles and kisses (my favorite) to poopy diapers and crumbled crackers, my energy is always focused on them.  I love my family (really, I do) but let’s face it: kids are a huge time suck.  Until I can start generating a substantial amount of money–to justify a babysitter and housekeeper–the last little bits of sand in my hour glass are devoted to sleep.

I do realize that I use my talents and potential to raise my children.  They wouldn’t be such happy, awesome kids if I were not consistently trying to give them my best. It just does not feel the same as creating and developing community, healing the sick or enriching the poor.  I want to be an awesome mother, an awesome wife, and an awesome “everything.”

Yet, as I realized when I went up into the mountains, I cannot be “everything.”  There is not enough time in the day–at least not right now.  Does it mean that I will not be able to live my dream life?  No.  Not at all.  I can live my dream life every day.  What I need to get better at is acceptance.  I can no longer spend so much of my time and mental energy focusing on the future.  Planning is great, but as we all know, even “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”  The concept of letting go is a difficult one for a controlling and perfectionistic person such as myself.  But if I want to enjoy the rest of this life–if I want to live a life of no regrets that is full of abundance, authenticity, connection, family and freedom–it means letting go.

I will never live the life I dream of if I can not learn to accept the moments as they come.  When I learn to bring my best to each experience that comes my way.  When I learn to savor each bite of food, each sip of coffee.  When I learn to bask in the golden rays of the sun and dig my toes in the sand.  When I learn to look for the silver lining of all those clouds.  When I learn to cherish each day as though it will be my last–that is when I will live.

(Photo: me with one of my favorite people in the whole world living and having one of the best times I can remember.)

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My Own Version of Success

posted 23rd September 2010    Written by: Marian    CATEGORY: All Posts, Creativity, Inspiration, Job/Career/Work, Marian, Money, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, Travel

In terms of traditional success, I’ve never really had a vision of exactly how that looks. I’ve never had dreams of being the Big Boss or winning awards or earnings lots of money. I’ve never felt the need to impress someone with a fancy title because I’m not impressed with fancy titles. I am, however, impressed by women who do their thing – have interesting jobs, travel, are passionate, run their own businesses…

Last December I was in taxi coming home from the airport and the driver, making small talk, asked what I did. At the time I was about to start culinary school so I said, “A chef” just to see how it felt.

It felt awesome. I felt creative and interesting and passionate. “Book Publicist” was never a fun job title to admit.

And even though I like what I do now I don’t get the same rush I felt in that cab. So I guess that’s the “vision of success” I have – to love what I do and not feel apologetic when I answer The Question.

Today, when I say “social media consultant” I always add, “It’s more interesting than it sounds.”

I want my excitement to be enough. Even if the other part could care less, I want to be proud and passionate about what I do.

As for specifics of what my dream life looks like I have no idea. I’m weirdly passionate about Stratejoy and another great company, Shatterbox, and what they stand for. I don’t know if I want to do something similar, but I have ideas for them and want to help.

I want to write in some capacity – maybe a book someday. Definitely blog. I don’t think freelancing is right for me because it always feels too much like a burden or school report.

I still love social media and think I’ll be involved with that no matter how my career changes.

I want to be creative: crafts, baking, photography… I want to make things with my hands.

I want my own shop. A bakery or community center or clothes story or coffee shop or music venue or bookstore. A place that’s mine where locals feel at home.

I want a farm or a garden. I want to live in nature and be self sufficient. I want to hike and be near the water.

I want to travel. Always.

I want a family. I’m in Clucky Mode at the moment, which is frustrating because I actually hate all children. Doesn’t stop me from wanting 50 babies, like, NOW.

I want new adventures. Something to look forward to. A trip to plan, a journey, a project to accomplish.

I don’t need to be rich or live in luxury but I’d like the financial freedom to not stress about it all the time.

One experience that made me feel like it couldn’t get any better was when I visited my friend Thana in Croatia. We spent the day with her pseudo-grandfather, Leo. Thana and I went swimming in the bay behind their house before dinner. The food was all caught or grown by the family – Fish cooked in an oven built by Leo himself. Grapes grown in their back yard. They even made their own olive oil. The couple barely spoke English, but it didn’t matter. We sang songs and laughed and it is still one of my most enjoyable memories. Whether it was the quality (but simplicity) of the food or the fact that the language barrier meant nothing – being there made me feel incredibly alive. Think Under the Tuscan Sun.

Part of me hates not having a Big Dream or a proper vision of success. But when I look back on my best memories I know that’s where I want my life to go.

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On Friends OR Why I don’t look like Zach Braff

posted 22nd September 2010    Written by: Nikki    CATEGORY: All Posts, Inspiration, Love/Relationships, Nikki, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3

I am always surprised when people remember me.  I have a bad habit of considering myself uninteresting, interchangeable, like I’m Zach Braff’s character in “Garden State,” literally blending in with the wallpaper.  I remember thinking in High School, “my friends are so awesome; I can’t believe they want to be friends with me.”  And that feeling has, if anything, grown stronger over the years.

My friends are the most inspiring, intelligent, caring and amazing people anyone could ever know.  They’re so great, there’s not a word for it.  They’re wonderiffic.

From my best friend who’s a doctor – she delivers babies, y’all! She’s part of the most important moment in a human’s life! – to my college friends who’ve taken leaps of faith and moved all over the world for their art, to my LA friends who push me to create by constantly producing songs and screenplays and novels and films and outrageous parties, they amaze me.

I’m not worthy.

I actually make friends pretty easily.  This is a relatively new thing for me; in high school I was so invisible-at-the-back-of-the-classroom shy that I decided, my freshman year in college, to wear the most obnoxious, ugliest clothes I could find at thrift stores, as conversation starters.  So I wasn’t blending in.  It worked, not only helping me meet now lifelong friends, but also giving me some confidence by showing me that once we got past the initial meeting (“that’s, um… an interesting dress…”), I could hold my own.

Traveling secured that feeling of confidence.  When you travel alone, you have to connect with people quickly and you can’t worry about being a little pushy, or else you’ll be eating dinner alone… again.  Once, twice, three times is fine, a good exercise in being comfortable with yourself; after a week, you’re desperate enough to ask the waiter to sit down & eat, your treat.  To survive, I learned how to make conversation easily and how to be myself around people who don’t know me.

Because of this, there are a lot of people I consider friends.  I am incredibly lucky to have friendships that, no matter how many years it’s been since we’ve seen each other, it feels like no time has passed when we’re together.  From the Indian guy I spent a week with in Australia to my college “arch nemesis” who’s become one of my good friends in LA, every person I have met and cared about has influenced my life and brought me joy, whether it was for a day or a decade.

That said, my best friends – the BFF who’s known me for 16 years and is the closest I’ll ever come to having a sister, the three past roommates who know me in the unguarded way you can only know someone you’ve lived with, the handful of people I can call for any reason or for none, who’ll hear me through my tears and intensify my joy, and my mom, the one person who knows me better than anyone – are my self-assembled family.

During my QLC,when everything else in my life felt frighteningly shattered – my Grandfather died, my parents separated, LA was eating me alive – these friends were my one constant.  They held me together in any ways they could, and I can’t thank them enough.  I don’t know who I’d be without them.

My friends have made me laugh, cried with me, let me crash on their couches and held my hair back.  They’ve gotten me lost and helped me find my way.  Just by being the wonderiffic people they are, they’ve made me feel pretty wonderiffic myself – confident, loved, and capable.  They bring out the best in me – my most creative, intelligent, fun, bravest, silliest, happiest self.  They see my potential and push me to reach it, but they also allow me to just be me.

They make me confident that, even when I’m not wearing the most garish outfit I can find, I will never blend into the wallpaper.

[Garden State photo source]

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Every Seven Years

posted 21st September 2010    Written by: Doniree    CATEGORY: Doniree, Inspiration, Job/Career/Work, Life Lesson, Season 3, What I've Learned

Did you know your taste buds change every seven years?  I didn’t.

Well, at least not until a friend told me that this summer.  I’d marveled at my newfound love of macaroons despite the fact that I used to hate the mere thought of coconut.  It hadn’t really occurred to me that it was a change in taste buds – maybe coconut had changed over the years?

This got me thinking about other foods besides coconut that I eat now but didn’t when I was just a little Doni.  Things like mashed potatoes, eggs benedict (fried eggs in general, and this is a new thing), avocados, and cous cous.

I still don’t like applesauce, white chocolate, or water chesnuts.

I did a little research, and it looks as though Je is right – taste buds change every 5-7 years, explaining why I wouldn’t touch an Almond Joy when I was little and could eat my weight in macaroons today.

What else changes in seven years?

Looking Back

Seven years ago, I was 20 years old, I’d finished up my second (and last) semester at Marquette University and had moved back to Minnesota.  I lived in Dinkytown, didn’t own my cute little black cat yet, and officially transferred to the University of Minnesota.  I definitely didn’t eat coconut and definitely didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I was on track to be a high school Spanish teacher, a high school guidance counselor, or a professional research psychologist.  I daydreamed about being a travel writer.  I drank cheap beer, cheap whiskey, and spent money like it was my job.

That year, I had jobs at a makeup store, a golf course, and a grocery store.  I met people and friends who first taught me what “friends like family” meant and who would influence the course of my life in some pretty huge ways.

Looking Here

In this moment, I’m 27.  It’s fall in Colorado.

I’m an independent contractor (self-employed?  freelancer?) who’s working her tail off to figure out how to work, travel, live, explore, seek, and learn all at the same time.  I’m surrounded by love, support, and opportunity – sometimes too much opportunity.  I’m swamped, but it’s my own fault and to be honest – I’d much rather be busy than bored.  I don’t even understand what bored means anymore.

I’m learning to crochet.  I wish I had more time for reading.  I’m going to yoga consistently, though not as frequently as I’d like.  I’m nervous about my upcoming yoga training.  I’m excited to visit my family next weekend.  I’m head over heels in love with the people in my life (new friends and old) and am blessed to have professional work that is as compelling as it is time-consuming.

I’m a tornado sometimes, charging full-speed ahead, still waiting for some the pieces to fall into place.  BALANCE is a daily intention.  It has to be a conscious thought or it doesn’t happen.

Looking Forward

Where would I like to be in seven years?

I’m hoping I’ll have visited lived in Europe at least once, be out of debt, have an official name and structure to my successful business, have seen myself published in print, and have a relationship with a hotel chain and airline that makes travel a seamless and natural part of my lifestyle.

I’ll have mastered the art of balance, carried rich and deep personal relationships with me along the way, and be relishing in a life supported by my values including love, connection, and gratitude.

And who knows?  Maybe I’ll be into white chocolate by then.

I also heard somewhere* that it’s actually every cell in our body that regenerates every seven years – scientifically speaking**, this means we’re totally different people every seven years.

Where were you seven years ago?  What do you want in the next seven years?

Seven years ago, I was in college, a little unsure but just as bright-eyed.  Now?  I’m tornado-ing myself through more self-discovery, more personal growth, and establishing the foundation for the next seven years of love, exploration, and success – in ways that I define and measure love, exploration, and success.

* unconfirmed, as source is my boyfriend and told me that when I told him the thing about the taste buds.

** as scientifically speaking as I can be, you know – not being an actual scientist (or even closely resembling one) and all.

{Photo source}

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