i can't help myself. i agree to everything offered to me, on the spot. plans, events, dinners, coffee, all of it. and then i'm doomed trying to make it all happen.
it's just that spending time with people is something that i consider to be the most important expenditure in my life. i want to do all these things because they're with people i genuinely enjoy being around. denying plans, to me, seems like denying the importance of these people in my mind.
so i've tried carrying a planner - i forget it at home. tried scheduling in my blackberry - the battery dies. even tried saying no to everything - i end up sitting alone in my apartment and pouting.
so here's the plan: maybe.
if i just say maybe to everything, hopes are mitigated and i can get a more realistic hold of my schedule.
yes, that is the best i've got. you know something better?
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
shopohol
i have a problem. i buy things, lots of them. mostly clothes and books, some video games. nothing ridiculous. except that i don't necessarily need them.
i recently came into a modest sum of money. i used it to pay off my credit cards, put down the last installment on a trip to ireland (more to come on that later), and buy a car. well, put a healthy down payment on a car. the rest... i spent. a first edition of a book that changed my life, some designer jeans, and yada yada yada.
savings holds no interest for me. i don't necessarily believe in the future, so holding on to money to prepare for a time that doesn't exist, doesn't make sense. not only that, i see credit as a way to bet that the future doesn't exist, a bet that i constantly, painfully slowly, lose.
so after my little shopping spree, i not only have nothing left, i am in debt again. not serious debt, i'll pay it off inside six months; if i can stop spending.
here's my plan:
1. in Chicago i'll only spend money on groceries and live entertainment.
2. on vacation i'll have a strict $50 a day spending limit on usable souvenirs.
3. once bills are paid (including groceries) i'll hand off $100 per pay check to a third party to begin a savings plan.
4. the rest of my money will be put toward the credit card bills until they are 100% paid off.
of course, having spent the last five days on a spending binge, it's not hard to say now that i'll go through with this plan. hopefully i can learn a little discipline and creative living to make sure i stay on target. i'll report back.
what's your guilty pleasure? do you have any intention of stopping, or do you like it just too much to stop?
i recently came into a modest sum of money. i used it to pay off my credit cards, put down the last installment on a trip to ireland (more to come on that later), and buy a car. well, put a healthy down payment on a car. the rest... i spent. a first edition of a book that changed my life, some designer jeans, and yada yada yada.
savings holds no interest for me. i don't necessarily believe in the future, so holding on to money to prepare for a time that doesn't exist, doesn't make sense. not only that, i see credit as a way to bet that the future doesn't exist, a bet that i constantly, painfully slowly, lose.
so after my little shopping spree, i not only have nothing left, i am in debt again. not serious debt, i'll pay it off inside six months; if i can stop spending.
here's my plan:
1. in Chicago i'll only spend money on groceries and live entertainment.
2. on vacation i'll have a strict $50 a day spending limit on usable souvenirs.
3. once bills are paid (including groceries) i'll hand off $100 per pay check to a third party to begin a savings plan.
4. the rest of my money will be put toward the credit card bills until they are 100% paid off.
of course, having spent the last five days on a spending binge, it's not hard to say now that i'll go through with this plan. hopefully i can learn a little discipline and creative living to make sure i stay on target. i'll report back.
what's your guilty pleasure? do you have any intention of stopping, or do you like it just too much to stop?
Sunday, March 6, 2011
candles and paint
i'm oblivious to most things regarding my home. i live in a loft-ish two bedroom with my roommate, Rose. the only things i really like for decor are books and coffee. everything else seems 'nice to have' (quite low on the IT/SE priority scale).
one thing i've noticed of late is that candles add a lot for not much expense. it's no longer quite cold enough to haul wood home (4th floor) to light the fireplace, but a softly dancing flame gives the home a feeling of calm and warmth. i really like waxman candles. they have unique scents, are made in the back of the shop and the company was born where i was: Lawrence, Kansas. the store provides an olfactory cornucopia. go see them on Lincoln between Barry and Wellington. Cheryl told me about it; she would want you to know that.
i just had a gentleman here who was giving me and estimate to paint the place. white walls can drive a man to fidget. it was a bit higher than i thought. i'm going to get another quote and see what's up. his work looks amazing and Yelp loves him, but it's certainly not a crime to shop. i should know.
trader joe's pistachios and cashews are calling my name for late lunch. what's your living space like?
one thing i've noticed of late is that candles add a lot for not much expense. it's no longer quite cold enough to haul wood home (4th floor) to light the fireplace, but a softly dancing flame gives the home a feeling of calm and warmth. i really like waxman candles. they have unique scents, are made in the back of the shop and the company was born where i was: Lawrence, Kansas. the store provides an olfactory cornucopia. go see them on Lincoln between Barry and Wellington. Cheryl told me about it; she would want you to know that.
i just had a gentleman here who was giving me and estimate to paint the place. white walls can drive a man to fidget. it was a bit higher than i thought. i'm going to get another quote and see what's up. his work looks amazing and Yelp loves him, but it's certainly not a crime to shop. i should know.
trader joe's pistachios and cashews are calling my name for late lunch. what's your living space like?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
anticipation-free
i recall as a child having to wait for things. and plan. and think quickly. communication technology has come a long way toward relieving me of those burdens.
in the fall of the years of my youth, our home would eagerly await the catalog deliveries preceding Christmas season. my sister and i would earnestly and diligently peruse, upon their arrival, catalogs from Sears, Kohl's, Montgomery Ward and the like, searching for items that were within a reasonable price range and that we considered fun - or at least useful - to utilize for the next year. we dog-eared pages, marked items, prioritized our wishes and presented the catalog back to our mother months in advance of that winter spectacle. and then we waited. we waited, not knowing what of our myriad selections would arrive, carefully wrapped on that magical morning.
i also recall visiting stores with little or no knowledge of what i would find. searching not for the item i wanted, but discovering my desire right in it's physical presence. a book, a ninja turtle action figure, a colorfully boxed breakfast cereal. i never knew what was available, and trips to the store were journeys, adventures beginning with a car ride full of potential and discussion.
as i grew older my social circle became wider than the Oldsmobile Forenza that carried my mother, sister and me on our errands and commutes. plans were made and phone calls were placed. from land lines. there was a magical moment that existed just after dialing, and before a "hello?" could be heard. in it, an infinite possibility and planning occurred. if my intended recipient answered, the dam of conversation could break instantly, or some other member of their household could answer and depending on my relationship with them i could make small talk or ask directly for my destination. or the dreaded answering machine would pick up and a clipped, one sided conversation could be recorded. but the instant existed where it was impossible to tell. schrödinger's phone conversation.
none of these occurrences exist in my world any longer. during gift seasons i email links to my family. usually just one or two; items i could easily buy for myself. the grocery is the only store i visit, and being a single person with limited culinary skill, i typically refresh stocks of my staple items with little variation. other items i buy online and arrive at my home without much thought or expectation. i text message friends. i call cell phones, generally controlled by a dedicated operator, no risk of unexpected conversations. i don't leave voice mails.
there is no buildup. i research large purchases and obtain the exact model i have decided on, without input from sales staff. i know what's out there, i saw a digital picture online.
i crave anticipation like some people crave ice cream or bacon or sex. i purposely bleed my finances so that i can eagerly await my next paycheck. i make plans weeks in advance to give myself unbendable purpose. usually.
currently i have nowhere to be, no one to see, and no concrete plans but the few tasks on my "things to do" list which bear no real importance. i'm anticipating nothing. i'm adrift in a sea of instant gratification, all my needs and wants at my fingertips. i am content. it's not so bad.
in the fall of the years of my youth, our home would eagerly await the catalog deliveries preceding Christmas season. my sister and i would earnestly and diligently peruse, upon their arrival, catalogs from Sears, Kohl's, Montgomery Ward and the like, searching for items that were within a reasonable price range and that we considered fun - or at least useful - to utilize for the next year. we dog-eared pages, marked items, prioritized our wishes and presented the catalog back to our mother months in advance of that winter spectacle. and then we waited. we waited, not knowing what of our myriad selections would arrive, carefully wrapped on that magical morning.
i also recall visiting stores with little or no knowledge of what i would find. searching not for the item i wanted, but discovering my desire right in it's physical presence. a book, a ninja turtle action figure, a colorfully boxed breakfast cereal. i never knew what was available, and trips to the store were journeys, adventures beginning with a car ride full of potential and discussion.
as i grew older my social circle became wider than the Oldsmobile Forenza that carried my mother, sister and me on our errands and commutes. plans were made and phone calls were placed. from land lines. there was a magical moment that existed just after dialing, and before a "hello?" could be heard. in it, an infinite possibility and planning occurred. if my intended recipient answered, the dam of conversation could break instantly, or some other member of their household could answer and depending on my relationship with them i could make small talk or ask directly for my destination. or the dreaded answering machine would pick up and a clipped, one sided conversation could be recorded. but the instant existed where it was impossible to tell. schrödinger's phone conversation.
none of these occurrences exist in my world any longer. during gift seasons i email links to my family. usually just one or two; items i could easily buy for myself. the grocery is the only store i visit, and being a single person with limited culinary skill, i typically refresh stocks of my staple items with little variation. other items i buy online and arrive at my home without much thought or expectation. i text message friends. i call cell phones, generally controlled by a dedicated operator, no risk of unexpected conversations. i don't leave voice mails.
there is no buildup. i research large purchases and obtain the exact model i have decided on, without input from sales staff. i know what's out there, i saw a digital picture online.
i crave anticipation like some people crave ice cream or bacon or sex. i purposely bleed my finances so that i can eagerly await my next paycheck. i make plans weeks in advance to give myself unbendable purpose. usually.
currently i have nowhere to be, no one to see, and no concrete plans but the few tasks on my "things to do" list which bear no real importance. i'm anticipating nothing. i'm adrift in a sea of instant gratification, all my needs and wants at my fingertips. i am content. it's not so bad.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
baseless assurance
it's a fine, fine line between confident and cocky. unless i'm dealing with romance; in that arena my fine line is between cowardice and social ineptitude. but, this post is not about romance. it's about a dishwasher and premature mental defeat.
my sister's husband is installing a new dishwasher at their house. he is not a plumber, nor is he an electrician. or for that matter a carpenter, stonemason, architect, mechanic or in any way related to a building profession. his father is a judge in a small town, and he works retail logistics. he's a smart man, with a bachelor's degree in the agricultural economics.
they bought their house shortly before they were married in the fall of 2010 and it needed a little work. so they did it. replacing cabinet doors, no problem. painting, done in a jiffy. moving boxes, furniture, kids; done, done, done. appliances... "maybe we should call a professional" my sister suggested. if i know him, he stood quietly, arms crossed, inspecting his foe for a moment. "i think i got it" he probably mused.
there lay his fatal error. yoda said "do or do not. there is no try." yoda was entirely correct.
defeat lies in the mind, and attacking anything - learning guitar, cooking, rock climbing, financial success - generally requires that one be able to presuppose success. there are exceptions, last ditch efforts, miracles (coincidences), that sort of thing, but rarely do they intervene in such a mundane task as appliance installation. also, assuming success means that failure is not an endpoint, but a mile marker on the path to achievement. it's just what not to do next time.
that's a long road to my point, which is that i can't seem to approach a task or challenge without assuming it's accomplishable, defeatable, surmountable. not to put forth that i've never failed, but failing spectacularly is, in it's way, a success.
do you mentally defeat yourself before approaching a task or challenge? have you tried baselessly assuring yourself that you can, and will, succeed? it works wonders.
my sister's husband is installing a new dishwasher at their house. he is not a plumber, nor is he an electrician. or for that matter a carpenter, stonemason, architect, mechanic or in any way related to a building profession. his father is a judge in a small town, and he works retail logistics. he's a smart man, with a bachelor's degree in the agricultural economics.
they bought their house shortly before they were married in the fall of 2010 and it needed a little work. so they did it. replacing cabinet doors, no problem. painting, done in a jiffy. moving boxes, furniture, kids; done, done, done. appliances... "maybe we should call a professional" my sister suggested. if i know him, he stood quietly, arms crossed, inspecting his foe for a moment. "i think i got it" he probably mused.
there lay his fatal error. yoda said "do or do not. there is no try." yoda was entirely correct.
defeat lies in the mind, and attacking anything - learning guitar, cooking, rock climbing, financial success - generally requires that one be able to presuppose success. there are exceptions, last ditch efforts, miracles (coincidences), that sort of thing, but rarely do they intervene in such a mundane task as appliance installation. also, assuming success means that failure is not an endpoint, but a mile marker on the path to achievement. it's just what not to do next time.
that's a long road to my point, which is that i can't seem to approach a task or challenge without assuming it's accomplishable, defeatable, surmountable. not to put forth that i've never failed, but failing spectacularly is, in it's way, a success.
do you mentally defeat yourself before approaching a task or challenge? have you tried baselessly assuring yourself that you can, and will, succeed? it works wonders.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
deal breaker method
i'm habitually single. maybe insistently. or tragically. who knows?
i meet interesting people all the time, luckily, but there's nearly always something not quite compatible. a 'deal breaker', if you will. i'm sure you will.
i have a simple 5-step proposal:
1) list all those deal breakers - get a piece of paper and a pen. or open a new text file. it'll be quick, i promise.
2) pick the most important three items - the rest are garbage. who are you kidding? you're being ridiculous with all those demands, pick three.
3) print your calling card - it's cheap as hell, order like 200 of those things printed with your three deal breakers (under the header DEAL BREAKERS), and name and email address and/or phone number. giving a physical card is classy. (i find email is less creepy than phone calls from unknown numbers. you can email a phone number. clearly, do whatever you want.)
4) met some potential partners - you're already doing this, probably, just keep doing your thing. hand out the card when it's contact info time.
5) they contact you (or don't) - whatever, it's their loss. you would have found out they have a ferret (or smoke cigarettes, or live with their mom) eventually, you saved the both of you a lot of time and agony.
5b) go give out some more of those cards - you have a ton of them just laying around.
so, can we do this single people? i'm more than a little frustrated with dating someone for 3 months before i find out they're irreconcilably intolerant of something i can't live without. or vice versa.
i meet interesting people all the time, luckily, but there's nearly always something not quite compatible. a 'deal breaker', if you will. i'm sure you will.
i have a simple 5-step proposal:
1) list all those deal breakers - get a piece of paper and a pen. or open a new text file. it'll be quick, i promise.
2) pick the most important three items - the rest are garbage. who are you kidding? you're being ridiculous with all those demands, pick three.
3) print your calling card - it's cheap as hell, order like 200 of those things printed with your three deal breakers (under the header DEAL BREAKERS), and name and email address and/or phone number. giving a physical card is classy. (i find email is less creepy than phone calls from unknown numbers. you can email a phone number. clearly, do whatever you want.)
4) met some potential partners - you're already doing this, probably, just keep doing your thing. hand out the card when it's contact info time.
5) they contact you (or don't) - whatever, it's their loss. you would have found out they have a ferret (or smoke cigarettes, or live with their mom) eventually, you saved the both of you a lot of time and agony.
5b) go give out some more of those cards - you have a ton of them just laying around.
so, can we do this single people? i'm more than a little frustrated with dating someone for 3 months before i find out they're irreconcilably intolerant of something i can't live without. or vice versa.
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