Money and I aren't speaking at the moment

A dryer full of money would do me wonders right about now. (P.S.: You absolutely must watch Breaking Bad if you haven't yet. It's amazing.)

So I'm stressing about money right now. I know, I probably don't have the right to complain since I was the one who made the decision to walk away from a steady salary last year (a decision I still don't regret), but I knew back when I made it that times would eventually get hard and now those times have come.

I feel like I'm living in some alternate dimension of the life I'm supposed to be living. Kind of like there are different variations of my life playing out all at the same time, parallel to one another, and I just ended up getting caught in this computer-glitch of a variation, the one that snarls savage orders at me that I must comply with, like "You will eat that top ramen and you will LIKE IT!!!" In this current reality glitch I live across the street from a handful of dollar stores, "checks cashed" storefronts, a suspicious bowling alley, and my building reeks of general ghetto-ness ... the kind of ghetto-ness punctuated by neighbors who allow their dogs to use our elevators as toilets. In this life I get a puerile kick out of free samples in my mailbox, I share one washer and dryer with an entire high-rise floor (which takes strategic planning if you ever want clean clothes, people), and my "check engine" light is always on, warning me of some expensive repair looming on the horizon. Who am I?

Thankfully I'm not stuck alone in it all; J is also mucho stressed out, evidenced by my increasing reminders to "stop pulling out tufts of eyebrow" -- a bad nervous habit he has when things aren't so copacetic. (He's also got the added pressure of keeping up his grades to graduate top-third in his class next month, coupled with the general stress he's under on a daily basis to find a job post-graduation. Once he takes the Bar this summer I know he'll find the job he's been looking for -- and not have to settle -- but this still doesn't seem to raise his spirits. It also doesn't help that he's reminded of it all every afternoon as he chows down on his 99-cent turkey and cheese Lunchable at school like a fifth-grader.)

Not that we don't have padding -- we're selling some stocks this week to pad out our cash situation even more -- but it's disturbing how far money doesn't go in this country. (I guess it could be worse. I could be living in parts of Europe that, though beautiful, would result in me paying out the nose for everyday things like groceries while steeped in a land of 34% unemployment.) My part-time tutoring job pays well, but the hours are somewhat erratic and the semester ends in early May so those paychecks will taper soon enough. J is currently interning for free and taking no school credits for his legal gig at the SEC three days a week, so it's not as if he could pick up part-time work between the internship and his full load of classes.

Anyway it makes me really, really uneasy when our bank account starts to ebb, even though the cushion is still there. I'm a "buffer" kind of a girl and tend to get irritable when my finances tread close to my buffer. The bills are piling up and costs in the near-future are what are really getting us down. My private health insurance, his Bar class and test fees (about $5,000 total), our moving costs to get back to California ($1,500 for a Uhaul truck, not counting gas), and little costs are quietly adding up (i.e., his graduation invitations, cap and gown, Law Journal banquet tickets - $40 each, etc.).

It would be at this point in any sane marriage that a couple would crack under financial pressure and the relationship would fall apart. Luckily we aren't sane. Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger, I suppose. Like I said earlier this week: "If, as newlyweds, we not only get through law school, but also our financial situation this last year, then we're bullet-proof, kid." He agreed. Right now all we can do is laugh at the current circumstances. It helps that we find the humor in these even dire situations and can make light of our misery. It really does. Because the alternative would probably end up looking like a Shakespearean tragedy.

Needless to say I've cut out most everything I enjoy doing for the sake of saving whatever funds we have. This means absolutely no more shopping (I can't remember the last article of clothing I bought), no going to the movies, no traveling, no eating out (unless it's Taco Bell), no more concerts, no more happy hours, and no more buying whatever I want at the grocery store if it isn't on sale. And yes, I've become one of those people who reads through all my weekly grocery inserts and travels to each store to get the best price for different things on my grocery list.

I guess these complaints all lead in to my 28th birthday, which is on Monday. My last couple birthdays haven't been all that amazing and for some inexplicable reason I want to try and make this one special. Obviously taking a trip is out of the question, and now I'm wondering if we should even go out to a decent dinner. (Clarification: Technically we can afford a dinner, but in the effort of saving cash would we want to drop $60-$100 for one meal? Would I even enjoy the meal as I mentally balance our checking account with each margarita?) It doesn't help that J and I are attending a Law Journal banquet of his tomorrow evening that we had to spend $80 worth of tickets on, but I totally get that networking and socializing is part of the "education" at his school, and that establishing lifelong professional relationships with classmates there is part of the whole package. Still, $80 is $80.

So, this is where I'm at. I hate worrying about finances to this degree but I'm starting to think that the only way I'll stop worrying about money is if (when?) I'm disgustingly wealthy. Until then no amount of money ever feels like enough. Anyway I feel better venting about it and I know most of my worries stem from the cost of moving slash J taking the Bar. Putting down between $5k to $10k in a one month span is never fun, especially when I'd much rather take that money and save it as a down payment on some property. Or travel. But such is the way of life. Right now nonessentials take a backseat to priorities, but my chin is up -- I know it won't be like this forever.

Now, what to plan for my birthday?...

Buying into the hype

A few weeks ago a panoply of Jostens pamplets pushing graduation packages arrived in our mail box. Basic package (25 cards, envelopes and gold school seal stickers)? $125, not including shipping and handling. Curse you, Jostens. You've figured out how to completely monopolize the graduation playing field with your commencement cards and diploma frames and caps slash gowns, from high school all the way up to post-grad.

Anyway since we're in emergency saving mode $125 seemed a bit pricey for something most are going to admire for a few days under a fridge magnet till the date is committed to memory and the card is tossed. But...when it comes to these things I'm a sentimental sap. No, I'm not one of those scrapbookers who saves every piece of pocket lint and gum wrapper to chronicle our life's journey with in the pages of a Michael's scrapbook. I don't even own a scrapbook. But I do tuck away the important things in my life. Pictures, train tickets from Europe, the occasional movie stub. Somewhere in one of my unpacked boxes I have a couple old wedding invitations of mine; in some other box I have one of my parents' wedding invitations (pre-me as a wee zygote) that I found somewhere back at their house and just had to keep it.

Much in the same way I'd like to happen upon one of these grad invitations in the future, maybe in my 40s when we're moving to a nicer house and it falls from the pages of a book being packed away and I'll pick it up and remember what it was like "back then", when everything was easier and it was just the two of us and our biggest problem was worrying about 125 stupid little dollars.

Now I know we could save money and just make the grad announcements ourselves. We did that for our wedding invitations -- not to save money but more to get the exact look we envisioned, and those came out perfectly. Then I remembered how life felt like it was being slowly drained from me as I sat pressing the glue on our 120th wedding invitation three years ago:

I think the look on my face said it all.

Sure, they were better than any card shop samples I saw, but there was only so much pink and brown tagboard, rubber cement and ribbon tying that one girl (and guy) could handle. Plus, J's law school invitations come with this gold-embossed school seal on the front of each (ugh, would you listen to me? I've already fallen for their marketing):

I love how presidential and "lawyer-ey" they look, and well, that's just not something we can replicate. So even though I feel like we're being majorly ripped off I think it's worth it. Someday we'll look back on this time and be glad we didn't skimp on everything -- I hate living with regrets and, really, money comes and goes. Plus he's only going to graduate law school once, and the fact that he's come this far in his life -- when the odds were stacked against him -- makes me very, very proud. His ambition alone deserves that pricey gold-embossed stamp.

On a side note, did/do any of you feel ripped off by the entire graduation industry? Granted, it's not as exploitative as the wedding industry, but still...

When a cheap haircut goes wrong

A few days ago J got a haircut that went horribly wrong. In an effort to save money -- and ignoring my requests to cut his hair myself (this is where I point out that I'm pretty good with scissors and a comb) -- he went to the nearest Hair Cuttery. Big mistake.

Now I'm not one of those girls who shuns all low-end haircut shops. Supercuts, Great Clips ... call me brave but I've tried all these firsthand out of sheer curiosity and found results to be surprisingly good, not bad. Contrary to popular opinion, I don't think an amazing hair cut -- for men or women -- needs to cost $50 to $100. I've had expensive cuts in this price range that have been worse than $20 ones and made me nauseous at having dropped bank on such a hot mess. (On the flip side when my $50 hair cut turned out fabulously there was no better feeling.) So my disclaimer is that I'm not a hair snob and not all Hair Cutterys suck. But the Hair Cuttery J walked into for a clip recently was downright ghetto, to put it mildly.

I sat near the entrance on a bench and watched him take his seat inside. From the outside everything looked fine. The shop seemed busier than usual, but nothing was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that they made him swipe his card before his haircut, something about them "closing the register soon". Totally suspect. Of course J is a consummate tipper, so naturally he left a 20% tip on his card before even getting the haircut (which kind of negates the whole idea of a tip since it's to reward service, right?) *Smacks face with hand when thinking about it*

Well, J went in looking like Shaggy and 20 minutes later came out looking like "Guile from Street Fighter":
(His words, not mine.) J looked like he wanted to kill someone with the 15-pound hardcover lawbook he'd been lugging around.

"I'm never, ever going back in there," he said through gritted teeth.

"Uh, you look like Krusty the Clown," I responded. What else was I supposed to say?

"The whole time the lady cutting my hair was mumbling things under her breath, like she had better things to do than cut my hair. And look -- SHE GAVE ME A '90s FADE!" he said, turning around and pointing at the bottom of his neck. "I look like Vanilla Ice!"

Try as I might to commiserate there was only one thing I could say: "You do!" I said, doubling over with laughter.

He turned back to face me and seeing how angry he was just made me laugh harder. I mean, if it was a tattoo or something, I'd probably be a bit more sympathetic. But it's hair, people -- it's not like it wasn't going to grow back. Plus, I was getting too much satisfaction from the fact that it appeared J had finally reached his breaking point here on the East Coast. I'd reached mine long ago (I believe it involved an incident with public transportation and me losing it on a subway platform). It was nice to finally be in good company.

The whole way home J was silent, white-knuckled and gripping the steering wheel, mumbling something about how it looked like "someone put a hexagonal hat on [his] head." Needless to say once we got home he spent 10 minutes in front of the bathroom mirror fuming at the atrocity he'd actually tipped for before he placed a hair of scissors in my hand and told me to fix it. Asap. So I fixed as much as I could and though the fade needs a little time to grow out he no longer looks like Krusty the Clown slash Guile slash like he's wearing a hexagon hat. In fact, it hardly looks like ever he got a bad haircut in the first place, thanks to his amazing and talented wife (ahem).

Next time he promises I can cut his hair, but I told him I'd only do it now if I get a 20% tip in advance. (What I didn't tell him was said tip would come in the form of watching a Real Housewives of OC marathon with me, but he'll find that out soon enough, my pretties!) All that matters is standing in the bathroom, the color back in his face, we shook on the deal.

Living like an artist, Part 2

When you're on a tight budget, there are two areas in your life you pray don't go down the pooper: Cars and computers. If anything goes even remotely wrong in either of these two areas, nine times out of ten you end up on the verge of tears, standing across from some smug mechanic/smug IT guy who's obviously getting sick pleasure out of telling you how expensive the repair costs will be.

Enter my hoopty, a tomato-red 2000 Hyundai Accent. It's come to my attention that we need new tires as the tread looks to have worn down to the slickness of a Brody Jenner pickup line. I pointed it out to J and he agreed, which means I nearly had a hernia when I saw how expensive these suckers were.

The only alternative I can think of to buying new tires would be attaching on snow chains to my old tires for year-round driving fun, which would -- if nothing else -- definitely give them the teeth they need to take street corners at 70mph. Then again, I imagine the clink, clink, clink on asphalt through downtown Washington, DC in the three seasons that don't have snow would just attract unnecessary attention. Not for the type of whip I'd want to ghostride, at least.

Unlike swapping in a subpar replacement for a coffee filter, me thinks we have no other option than to scrounge for coupons and bite the theoretical bullet. Unless any of you all have creative ways to bandage the problem. Otherwise, new tires it is.

Living Like an Artist, Part 1

Today I stumbled out of bed, practiced some favorite dance moves in my pjs to get the ol' blood flowing, then plodded over to my beloved coffee maker. Typical weekday morning for me. Except this time when I reached in my cupboard I realized I was out of coffee filters ... then I realized we're on this "budget" thing and we swore we wouldn't go to the grocery store for another week ... Damn. It. No coffee is never an option. Especially on a Thursday morning.

I had to get creative. Toilet paper filter? No, not robust enough -- coffee would end up with squishy lumps of butt-wipe throughout. Pass. Paper towel? Ding ding!

Coffee? Check!

I know I'm not the first to discover this gem, but I was quite proud of myself. "So this is what you get when you're living on a budget," I thought, smugly sipping my piping hot beverage. "Linty coffee. I kind of dig it ..."

Suddenly Elvis' "In the Ghetto" began to fade in. Startled I looked around, but the radio and turntable were off. The music got louder, echoing like some symphonic harmony in an unrecognizable dream. Moneypenny, Lola ... they watched me with baited breath, either because of the music or the fact that I was standing next to a tub of Trader Joe's ginger snaps, I don't know. Confused I leaned in closer to the coffeemaker. Ah, there it was. That's where it was coming from -- my soiled and stained paper towel filter.



(Ed. Note Update: J said "enough with this nonsense, we're not poor" and bought me a mesh coffee filter. No more linty goodness for me -- and just when I was getting used to it.)

w00t!

Quick note to say I just found out that I was mentioned in Mediabistro last week! (Does a little Irish jig next to the couch, aka my "office.") I've been reading Mediabistro for years now so it -- in the vein of Dirty Harry -- made my day to see one of my posts alluded to. Some people get their kicks skydiving or smoking crack; I get mine seeing my writing noticed:


Even though this doesn't really do anything for me in the grand scheme of things, it's still fun to see. When I showed J, he said he was "glad to see the world recognizes the sagacity of [his] advice." Usually I negate 75.3% of everything he says, so I'll let him feel smug for a day or two about this. ;)

Confession

"F*ck me, I love Keats." - Daniel Cleaver

All right, I'm just going to come out and say it. I hate living on a budget. I know, I know, why the hell did I name my blog after such a personal abomination? Well, because for right now (in my late 20s, at least) I'm on one, and even more so after quitting my job.

Most of the time I completely forget I'm on a budget because I have and/or buy whatever I want. But there are other times -- like, um, Saturday morning when J and I sat down and looked over our spending for this last month -- when you realize you've been a little too breezy in some fiscal areas of your life. Take groceries. We usually spend about $250 to $300 a month in our combined Costco/Trader Joe's journeys. This month? So far we've spent over $400 ... and I'm already out of diet root beer. Ugh. We both balked when we realized this overall total, especially since we've been eating out constantly (Baja Fresh, you are ruining my life) and we spent another combined $100 at CVS and Rite Aid.

"What do we even buy at the drug store?" J asked, completely bewildered.

"Um, candy and beer," I responded.

"You mean to tell me we spent one hundred dollars on Swedish fish and Miller High Life?" asked J, even more surprised because we aren't big beer drinkers ... and he thought he was in some way cheating the system by buying one of the cheaper, albeit "champagne of", beers.

"Yup," I answered ... a faraway look of disbelief in my eyes.

So, after we scrutinized our recent finances, we've decided we need to clamp down on our spending ... as in, not spend at all (okay, I admit allotting $80 a month to our "Target needs" is still spending, but to me it's like not spending at all). This is how it's going to be, at least from now until we move in 8 months. After all, J's Bar fees are ridic and moving expenses will add up.

Being the masochist I am, I forced J to come shopping with me at the mall that very same day and used him as my financial barometer. The typical convo that ensued:

Me: "Ooooh this is cUUUUuuuute ...." (I hold up a dress/necklace/sweater/pair of shoes/peacock-feather headband in J's stolid face.)

J: "Yeah, but do you really need it? It's a short-sleeved dress and the temps are dropping, you wouldn't be able to wear it for another six months."

Me: "I know, but it's SO cute!..."

J: (Sighs). "Do what you want, but do you not want to be able to move back to California because you spent all our money on dresses and headbands and 'cute' pink doggie-poop-bag holders that you don't even need?"

(Twisted look of frustration pervades my face, and I angrily stuff said dress back into rack/fling said headband back onto shelf/leave said pink doggie-poop-bag holder next to cash register.)

Then I festered in self-pity and pouted in the car ride home until J -- again, my genius voice of reason -- says "You know, it's a trade-off. Would you rather be doing what you did before and shopping all the time, or working on your book and not spending much money?"

Sigh. How can I argue with this?

Looking at it like that, hell no. I would not want to do what I was doing before, no matter how much I got paid, and I am SO HAPPY that I instead get to do what satisfies and inspires me. It turns out true freedom is never free (as our budget so deftly points out).

"If you want to be an artist, you're going to have to live like one," J said.

Leave it to J to boil it down to an absolutely excellent, valid, puts-things-into-perspective point. He's right. I've never had to live the life of an artist, so I didn't know what to expect. And even though I loathe living on a budget, I'll do so because while it may seem that I'm irate now, I was even more exasperated before with my other career and all the money I had. Go figure.

Of course our limited spending also means limited spending on our "outings", like going to the movies and incessantly eating out at restaurants. But J had an excellent idea Sunday morning -- why don't we read to each other? "It's free," he pointed out. As if that was the major draw with his idea.

"Oh my god," I thought. "So Victorian, so romantic, so Bridget-Jones-and-Daniel-Cleaver-reading-Keats-in-their-rowboats." (Note: In real life J is, was and always has been Mark Darcy.) I was definitely in. I love reading and analyzing lit, and J is the perfect person to do it with. So that afternoon we took a Starbuck's gift card we had lying around, ordered a couple coffees and read Heart of Darkness to each other at a table near a window. Didn't cost a thing, and I loved every minute of it. We decided it's going to be "our thing", and I've already gotten out my old Hemingway short stories to read aloud next. I guess being on a budget right now isn't as bad as I originally thought?...

Bon Voyage!

If only there was this much leg room. [Source]

Finally.

All these months of saving and shopping clearance racks only have paid off nicely in the form of a round-trip ticket to South America. I'll be shipping out to the southern hemisphere tomorrow for 3 blissful weeks. I feel just like Don Draper when he escaped to California from Manhattan.

Although this is a much-needed vacation, I hope it won't only consist of me lying on a beach with a book and a tall cool drink in hand. I can do that in Hawaii. When I travel I need to get out, see everything and fully experience what a new culture and people have to offer -- even if it comes sans cabana. I used to travel abroad at least once every year; I suppose that's always easier to do when you're in college and get summers off. But the last trip I took was to Italy when I got married (and was between jobs) in the summer of 2007. It was one of the best trips of my life, but ate up most of my savings (which was fine, I had saved for that specific purpose anyway). Two years later, though, I am chomping at the bit to get out and see the world again. I blame my parents, who instilled the travel bug in me by age 3.

My husband won't be coming along (sigh), but I'm meeting my mom, dad, and sister in Rio de Janeiro. There I'll be staying in a 2-bedroom apartment with them across the street from Ipanema for two weeks (words cannot begin to express how excited I am for this). After that we're flying down to Buenos Aires where I'll stay for another week before I head back to America's armpit, DC.

My parents, on the other hand, are both on sabbatical and have planned the mother of all roadtrips, where they'll start in Argentina, go up the length of Chile and then on into Peru. Think Motorcycle Diaries, except in a comfy rental car and without the whole being-Che-Guevara bit. Since my sister just graduated college and wants to become fluent in Spanish, she'll be staying with them through early November. I'll miss them a lot, since the only way to get in touch with them will be email. They asked if I wanted to come along the whole way -- and I almost said yes (after all, I can write from anywhere) -- but in the end decided 3 weeks was good enough. The overarching reason: I'd miss my husband too much (as pathetic as that sounds). I figure we'll take our own adventure through South America soon enough.

Anyway our apartments will have Wi-Fi so I'm bringing my iTouch and hope I can blog about some of my adventures while I'm gone. At the very least I bought some snazzy moleskins to jot my journeys down in and make sense of when I get back (con pictures).

What I'm looking forward to...

• Excellent food (I find street carts always have the best food a country has to offer).
• Meeting new people.
• Listening to Astrud Gilberto's "Girl from Ipanema" while I do some laying out on the beach (it's already queued up in the ol' iPod).
• Visiting Eva Peron's grave (I know she was corrupt as all hell, but I loved reading her biography and know all the words to the Broadway musical).
• Learning how to properly tango.
• Having a legitimate Caiprihna.
• Being a stranger in a strange land.
  
• Tasting native Malbec wine in Argentina.
• Taking lots of pictures (Note to self: Actively use your camera while you're out instead of remembering when it's too late!).

Basically, I want my trip to be like one long Tony Bourdain: No Reservations episode.

...and what I'll miss when I'm gone:

• My husband
• Mad Men Season 3 premiere (DVR, though, is set and ready to go).

Looking forward to writing from the flip-side!

I did it. I quit my job.

Just breathe. Everything is going to be okay.

I kept repeating this mantra as I made my way to my CEO's office on Monday to officially resign. I suppose the first thing you'd think I felt when I walked into his office was triumph and relief. Something akin to the French liberation during WWII, but on a much smaller scale, of course. There I was, after all, taking my destiny into my own hands and carpe diem-ing. But for a few fleeting minutes, I felt quite the opposite. I was terrified. I knew I was going to do it, there was no question of that, but I liken the whole experience to skydiving. When push comes to shove and you take the final jump off that airplane, there are a few moments (which I may relive during the next few months or years of my life) where you're terrified your parachute won't open and you'll land, splat, in a field of cow dung, with those around you muttering "told you so." Walking in and quitting yesterday was that jump off my plane.

And guess what? After shutting his door, taking a seat and telling him I was officially, well, out of there, I knew deep down that everything really was going to be okay. I just needed to push off that plane with the force I had mustered in the last few months and not look back. So I did, and the feeling of being so in control of my fate and future felt (and still feels) fabulous.

I was terrified of cutting loose the security and comfort that comes with having a salary but the reality of my situation -- of all of your situations, actually -- is that money comes and goes. It's like water through your fingers. Keep what you need in a canteen at your side, enough so that you'll never go thirsty, and then go forth and work hard at what you love. There will always be more water, and there will always be more money. And if you feel like it may take a while to get to that next stream to refill, than learn how to make your water -- or dollars -- stretch until you get there. Just don't let your fear or uncertainty be what extinguishes you ever taking risks in the first place. Don't get stuck setting up shop near that first river you come upon, failing to ever go forward and see what other, bigger rivers lie on the horizon. Believe me, that first river can be mighty comfortable, but I think sometimes it takes "uncomfort" to shape who you are and make you stronger, more resilient and ultimately, more happy.

Will times get tough at least through this next year? You bet. There will be days I'm sure will feel excruciating, days when I'll feel like I have no money at all, days I'll wonder what the hell I'm doing up and quitting my cush job in This Economy, days I might actually consider buying one-ply instead of two-ply bathroom tissue just to save money. But I will always remind myself of what the suffocating alternative is. I may not have a lot of money in the near future, but I'm going to have the freedom to pursue what I want to make happen, not what anybody else's vision or dream is. And that's important to remember. No one said taking risks was easy -- that's why they're risks, after all. If they were a piece of cake, then everyone would want a slice.

But don't think that it was easy walking away from my job, my paycheck, security, stability and all those other rooted tendrils that ensnared me for the last two years in a web of oblivious complacency.

All my life I've followed a conventional path: I graduated with good grades from high school, went to college, grad school and got a job that steadily allowed me to pay rent, bills, shop and save. All those fun "life" necessities. I know a few people who don't and/or didn't enjoy being college students. Well let me rephrase that: They enjoyed the parties and "good times", but didn't enjoy the studying and the classes. They feel disappointed in themselves for following the structure traditionally set up for them. For me, it wasn't structure that made me go to college or grad school. At the risk of sounding nerdy, I loved being a student and debating with professors, going to class, studying, and writing pages and pages of lit analysis.

But I don't love holding down a job just to have a job. That's where I whipped around and looked Structure straight in the face. "What if you're not for me? What if I'm confident that I can make a damn good living without you?" I asked it during the summer of last year. It laughed at my naivety, telling me to stick it out for another year at work. So I doubted myself, and followed its advice. And now, a year later, I've caught up to Structure and told it I don't want it leading me around anymore. I'd step off its track and venture out into the forest to forge my own, unknown way. My success and earnings will now rest solely on my shoulders and the effort I put forth. From here on out, I will not get paid to "just show up." That fact alone is one of the most empowering feelings I have ever experienced.

Talk about judgment. It's palpable on the faces of some of my friends and even family. I can see it. After all, it's cute and all that I want to an be author, but what am I going to do about my real job? At first facing judgment from those I cared about, even if they tried to hide it, both hurt and stung. I quickly got over it though, and I harbor no ill feelings or dislike for those that don't understand. Three years ago, I probably wouldn't have understood either. It's important to remember that people are always at different points in their lives. It's somewhat of a miracle when an individual can truly empathize with the perspective of an another, so I've accepted being judged as not a flaw in the judger, but as human nature, and I've refused to allow it to ding my confidence anymore. The only person who can make me happy is myself. People will always judge your actions, opinions and beliefs, but if you are happy with your decisions at the end of every day, I think that's all that matters. Life is too short to pacify the barrage of judgment around you.

That's not to say I'm an eternal optimist. If anything, I'm too much of a realist.

It would be naive to assume that every dream pays off, that every hope not reached in the end wouldn't be laden with some form of regret for what was given up. But I'm willing to accept the consequences. I firmly believe that each one of us is in charge of our own destiny. Fate alone only takes you so far.

A week feels like a year in blog years

My apologies for being missing in action during this last week. Actually, nix that. No apologies! I've been in the midst of a fabulous life change. I have been writing, though it's been on stories and not PF, and it feels good.

Don't get me wrong, I'm more coupon-obsessed than ever, and I'm not out charging my life away on my Nordstrom's credit card, but in this week of reevaluation of my life thus far, I am sick and tired of obsessing over money. I love my blog dearly (it's what got me through my second year of living in DC after I thought I'd have a nervous breakdown in the first), and I'll continue to be your faithful scribe on cheap fashion and intriguing finance stories that catch my eye, but as for money as a whole, I'm not going to let it rule my life anymore.

"But Crystal," you might point out, "it never seemed like money ruled your life that much in the first place. Wasn't it you, a PF blogger no less, who spent $400 on a Dooney handbag?" Yes, that was me. I realize this is a cardinal sin in PF-dom, but money (after you've put some aside, of course) is meant to be enjoyed. Wring all you can out of sales, coupons and clearances, make sure you have your bills paid off, some savings in place, and then...well, enjoy yourself. You want a steak for dinner? Eat it happily, and don't think about its cost. You earned it. Life is too short for constant, back-of-your-mind fretting. You'd be allowing your money to own you.

Which was the epiphany that hit me earlier this week, as I pummeled a punching bag in my kickboxing class. I'm always surprised at how clear my mind becomes and how easily the answers seem as I'm kickboxing, sweating to Britney's "Circus" remix blaring from speakers near the wall of windows. I got to thinking about how much I love coming to this class and how much weight I've lost in the last couple years (working a desk job after college took me from a sz. 4 up to a sz. 10, and now, I'm elated to report, back to a sz. 6 and dropping). Thing is though, the classes are expensive. Like, lots-of-money-upfront expensive. So what allows me to attend these (what I can even admit are) rip-off classes? My full-time job, of course. Which I might add I used to love, keywords being "used to." (That's another post to come.)

So why I have stayed? Well it funds my kickboxing habit, first off, but more than that it's a security thing. You'd be hard-pressed to find a person who doesn't like getting a steady paycheck every two weeks, especially if that person is married to a student and is covering all rent, food and other vital necessities solo until graduation. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy to do this. What I'm not happy about is going to work everyday, dreading my commute in. And dreading sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day doing inane tasks, asking myself (sometimes even out loud in the fifth-floor bathroom), what I'm doing there. I've even found myself standing to the right on the metro escalator, fervently delaying the inevitable time spent in the office by a scant few minutes as others push past me on the left, eager to clock in.

For the directionless who simply just want a job, this situation would be perfect. I make more money than I probably should, work under lax deadlines, and can generally buy whatever I want. For someone with a deep love for something else, though, it's all excruciatingly suffocating. So naturally your next suggestion would be to follow that love, but what if it lies in something that could not (at least for the foreseeable future) pay bills properly?

When I was young, I wanted to be a writer. (Well, first I actually wanted to be a smurf, but that was before I realized that "What do you want to be when you grow up" was not the same as "What do you want to be for Halloween".) I began reading voraciously before most of my classmates, was always bought a steady stream of books by my parents, and someday imagined myself penning a classic and maybe even winning a Pulitzer. (Hey, no one said youth was delusion-free.) Then high school rolled around and I realized, at least from what I was told, that it was virtually impossible to make a living as a writer. And when I say writer, I mean novelist. So I cast off my novelist dreams as childish and unsustainable, and decided to follow my second passion: journalism. I figured I could parlay my love for researching and telling stories into short-form, and I would even get paid regularly to do it (I was -- and still am -- willing to work for a pittance). I majored in English and went on to grad school and then ... journalism as a field collapsed. I worked as an editor for a while at a Bay Area newspaper, lived through what working for conglomerate MediaNews was like, and ended up in DC, where I am now. If you had told me back in high school that I would be where I am now, I would have laughed and mumbled something about selling out.

But here I am. A sell out. Slave to the secure paycheck. And all I really want to do is pull that comfortable ripcord and write books. Which brings me back to my kickboxing class. As I pummeled the bag, I got angrier with every jab and kick. "Who are you?" I thought. Punch. "When did you decide that money was worth more than giving up on what you love?" Kick. "You say life is short all the time, so why do you play it so safe?" Punch, punch, kick. "You're talented and you've got potential. That talent won't take you anywhere, that potential won't ever be reached, as long as you're working for someone else." Roundhouse kick to the bag's head.

And after class, as I toweled the warm, dripping sweat from my face, I resolved to not let money rule my life anymore. To not let security or my job rule my time. It's mine, after all, and it can't be bought. Sure I love this kickboxing class, but I love my creative freedom more. There's no question which one I'd give up. No one ever got anywhere by playing it safe, and I'm tired of walking that beaten path.

"Coupon Queen" spends $10 on $150 worth of groceries

I'm speechless (and impressed):



Is this seriously possible? I know it takes a lot of research and hard work, but still. (P.S. Love the image of this tiny woman with a Brooklyn accent pushing a giant overflowing grocery cart almost as tall as her through the aisles of her local supermarket. Priceless.)

Fashionable Fridays: Miss Dior Cherie

I was perusing the latest issue of Elle Magazine two nights ago, getting more and more bummed with the turn of every page due to wanting all that I couldn't afford in the mag, when I came across this beautiful ad for Dior's new fragrance:


I immediately fell in love with the picture. Not only do I love the model's ensemble, but I love the way the picture captures the whimsically magical and romantic side of Paris -- you know, the idealized side of the City of Lights us Americans always imagine it to be like through movies like Amelie and Paris Je T'aime. I'm looking for the original print to frame, minus the Dior wording, but in the meantime I figured that with Paris on my mind, I'd find a way for us girls on a budget to also pull off the Miss Dior Cherie look.

Here's how to capture the look above without breaking the bank (click on pics for prices):

Miss Dior Cherie by BrunetteOnABudget featuring Hudson rings

Floating above Paris, optional. ;)

I want my Mtv

The men I spend my Sunday nights with.

Okay, maybe not my Mtv, but definitely my AMC, as I firmly believe I would die a slow, painful death without Mad Men (yes, I've actually pondered this scenario). For that matter, I also wouldn't be able to live without my TCM either, as it's my umbilical cord to all things classic film (feed me, Robert Osbourne!). Add to that HGTV, the "real estate porn channel" that allows me to live cathartically through strangers on House Hunters International as they navigate the lux terrain of Parisian apartments. And don't get me started on the Travel Channel and my daily, necessary (or what Love has dubbed "obsessive") dose of Anthony Bourdain. I'm a productive person, an astute multi-tasker, and yes, I do enjoy watching television -- sometimes more than I should. My point is that these are things ... shows ... I don't want to live without, people. They are the backbone of my stunningly vast pop culture knowledge and most are sadly not offered for free online.

Why am I presenting you with this panoply of favorite channels? Well, I'm going to be acting on a giant, exciting, I-can't-wait-for-it decision next month that will alter how much I'll need to save and how my budget will look strutting into this next year. "What is this life-altering decision?" you may ask with baited breath. I know, I feel your plight. I often amaze even myself with my impulsive decisions, but patience, my pretties. That's a post left best for mid-May. (And don't go buying me chic maternity clothes just yet, there is no pregnancy or baby involved.)

In the meantime, I've had to analyze my spending style and list what sorts of accoutrements I can cut out in my month-to-month living to conserve cash. In our household, our Comcast bill is one of the larger, more expendable bills we pay on a monthly basis, which brings me to the shows and channels that propel my weeks forward, like buoyant seaweed draped on the overactive rudder of my life. I like my seaweed and want it hanging off my rudder, thankyouverymuch.

Love and I debated the other night as to whether we could do without cable television. Left to his own wits, he'd never watch any of the shows I tune in to weekly (though since we've gotten married he has seen the light -- well, sort of -- with Mad Men, Grey's Anatomy, Anthony Bourdain and The Hills. Lucky, lucky man). In fact, Love isn't a big TV person at all. He's more of a DVD kind of a man, and thoroughly enjoys such cinematic masterpieces like Big Trouble in Little China and Reign of Fire. Yes, I know. I, on the other hand, enjoy dramas centered around faux Seattle doctors, foodie trips to Bangladesh by ex-drug addict chefs, and the nitty-gritty stories spun between bottled blondes and their beaus in La La Land, with a dollop of Kelly Cutrone on the side. This is all when I'm not watching TCM, naturally.

So how does a couple who is out to save money compromise? Do we cut the cable and watch what little is available online? Rent episodes on Netflix DVDs when they are released? (Boo.) Keep the cable and stop buying the small amount of action movie DVDs we actually purchase?

In cases as dire as this, we do what I want -- and naturally, that's what we did. Which means we're keeping the cable and finding other costs to cut so that I can tune in to Mad Men Season 3 this summer, Love at my side, as planned. I can't wait.

Gucci for less

If you love Gucci but can't afford the haute looks, maybe this re-creation will satisfy your designer appetite, compliments of DesertRose:

Gucci Style Budget by DesertRose on Polyvore.com

Loves it! Not sure if the dress is still available, but horizontal stripes are big this season -- in fact, I saw a dress very similar to this one recently at H&M for about $35. The yellow jacket, pumps and belt round out this outfit nicely at about $50 total, which isn't bad for accessories that can be paired with many other ensembles!

Vogue's cat is out of the bag

Not like you sign up for mag subscriptions in the hope that the free swag you get will actually be quality (right??), but if the driving factor in becoming a Vogue reader was the new purse you were promised, you may have found yourself a little...underwhelmed.

According to the New York Post, wannabe Anna Wintours hoping to score free glamour with a Vogue Magazine subscription need not apply. You see, in the Vogue ad, the Post says the bag appears to be red leather with a crocodile embossment and a clasp with over-the-shoulder straps.

"Instead what shows up in the mail, in a standard 8 in. by 10 in. polybag, is a red canvass bag with "pleather" handles about the size of a small gym bag. The bag also has "pleather" patches on the bottom corners and a zipper closure."

Classy!

What happens when the empty nest isn't so empty?

Here's a guest post from my friend, freelance writer Trisha Wagner. Enjoy!

Do you remember the first time you moved away from home? The feeling of excitement, independence and freedom? The joy and trepidation of finally striking out on your own with no parents looking over your shoulder or bossing you around? I know I remember those feelings well and nothing ever compares to moving into your first place. Now imagine fast forwarding five, ten or even fifteen years and having to face the fact that you can no longer make it on your own. While it has become somewhat common for some college grads to bounce back to the family homestead until they get “established” the current state of the economy is forcing grown men and women out of their homes and back to mom and dad's place.

With the tough economic times that we are facing, this situation is becoming a reality for many families. To say the least this arrangement can be stressful for both parties and it is important to set some ground rules to prevent both of you from falling back into your old roles. The following tips can help you get in and out of the family home with the least amount of disruption to all involved.

Set Rules Before Moving Home. This is important for both the parents and the adult child to establish what is expected of all parties. If the move home is a result of a financial hardship, agreeing on what will be expected of you will go a long way toward a peaceful co-existence. Due to the current state of the economy your parents may want to help you financially but find themselves unable due to their own financial situation. Both parties need to agree and feel comfortable discussing these financial responsibilities before you move home.

Be Respectful Of Privacy. Let's face it, you have grown accustomed to having your own space and so have your parents. Remember this is their home and just because they want to help you doesn't mean they will relish having another person (even their child) hanging on the sofa all day. Be respectful of their privacy and the daily “routines” that we all have.

Have A Plan. Remember moving back home with the folks should be a temporary arrangement to help you get back on your feet. This means if you are unemployed you should continue to look for work. If you are currently working, you should be extra mindful of your spending habits. You don't want to be a mooch, cost your parents more money or spend your paycheck on fabulous new shoes. Make the most out of this opportunity to get your finances in order by saving as much money as you can possibly afford. This may mean making sacrifices or adjusting your lifestyle but that is the reality of your life at the moment.

Learn From Your Mistakes. No one is perfect and we all make mistakes. Successful people however learn from those mistakes. There are many reasons why an adult child may be forced to move home. Some situations are out of your control (loss of employment or major medical issues). Other circumstances may have been preventable had you managed your finances better. Don't let past missteps stop you from moving forward toward your financial goals; establish where you went wrong and make the changes necessary to prevent the same mistakes from happening in the future.

While no one wants to move back home under the watchful eyes of their parents, certain situations may leave you with no other options. At a time when your pride might be hurting don't forget to be thankful and appreciative that you have parents and a home to fall back on-- not everyone is as fortunate.

Trisha Wagner is a freelance writer for DepositAccounts.com where you can compare rates of deposit accounts from dozens of banks in one place. Trisha writes regularly on the topics of personal finance and savings accounts.

Fashionable Fridays: Casual in the city

Today was like any other day: I woke up, decided to run with the smokey-eye look, threw an outfit together and spritzed myself with perfume on my way out the door. I guess I looked cuter than usual (is that even possible?) because my garb caught the attention of many passerbys (don't even pretend like you weren't checking me out, you trio of men in suits -- I saw you out of the corner of my dark sunglasses). And of course I also got compliments from friends throughout the day. It's funny, at least in my case: When I don't try that hard with my outfits, they always come out being the best. Anyway, here's a sample of what I wore:

Friday in DC by BrunetteOnABudget featuring GUESS? sandals

Nothing amazing, but it looked very polished and put together. What's pictured isn't exactly what I wore, as my tank was a darker gray and pleated all around the neckline, plus my shoes were slightly different (and much cheaper than these), but you get the point. All in all, my outfit cost about $30 total (yes, $30), minus the gold necklace, which was given to me as an early bday present from a friend at lunch today. My point? You can look fashionable and modern without spending tons of money.

A tip to remember is to not talk yourself into the wrong clothing just because it is cheap or is on sale -- buy it because it looks fabulous on you and will be able to be mixed and matched. Also be on the lookout of ways to accessorize the "blah" you already own. A drab gray tank will always be a drab gray tank unless you get creative (like above). Cinch it with a big belt in white or brown and play it up with the right jewelry, statement handbag and killer heels. All of a sudden your drab gray tank will become the base palette for your divine outfit, and not the focal point of an otherwise boring ensemble. But you already knew that, right? ;)

Have discounts gone the way of leggings?

Were discounted designer duds out before they were even in, much like leggings that were so 17 seasons ago the minute they re-debuted for the first time since the early '90s? The jetsetting, I-step-on-the-heads-of-the-middle-class-on-my-way-to-tea-at-the-Ritz seem to think so. After all, if everyone else can also buy a $3,000 Dolce and Gabbana dress (albeit heavily marked down for us normal folk), than what would distinguish them from us? It would be utterly blasphemy, this near-incestuous melting pot of classes, from the very poor to the very rich, all buying the same things and festering in uncalled-for solidarity. I shiver at the thought.

But you see, that's what would happen if This Economy continues to take its toll on poor designers like Eileen Fisher, Oscar de la Renta and Versace, who it seems would prefer that department stores go bankrupt rather then have to slash prices in order to keep peddling the very designer goods that so many of us covet as an escape from the confines of mid-tier stores like The Gap, et. al. Do the Anna Wintours of the world have a point? If prices were slashed mercilessly, like the sad peeps at Rite Aid sitting restless and 50% off post-Easter, their once-vibrant pink coats now a faded shade of sour pepto bismol, would the playing ground become more even, thus upsetting the equilibrium of the world? Would it all really matter? Does there need to be a defining line -- in this case, made up of obnoxiously unattainable couture clothing that I admit I really, really want -- that separates the successful from the striving, the haves from the have-nots?

If This Economy can absolutely bury the oldest of what we thought were bullet-proof financial institutions (aurevoir, Lehman Bros.), and pick apart and plunder the most notable of giant law firms, pummeling laid off partners and associates in its undertow (aren't these people all supposed to be "recession-proof"?), then surely the economic tsunami can -- and should -- do something as insignificant as lower what are -- let's face it -- purely ridiculous and inflated clothing prices connoting a higher-end lifestyle we all lust after.

Does a full-price, $1,200 Carolina Herrera dress have any more value than, say, the knockoff of said dress at Macy's? Both sides of the class line are beginning to ponder that question, especially the side that was duped into paying full price for it (ahem, Ritz Carlton tea-goers.)

According to The Wall Street Journal, the price swings of designer goods have "confused" high-end customers (poor things), leading them to question the real value of their purchases. Apparently those in this group feel duped for having paid full price.

Shortly after Nancy Novogrod paid full price at a department store for a pair of spring Jil Sander slacks, the editor of Travel + Leisure Magazine got an email saying the store's spring sale was under way. "Spring sale?" Ms. Novogrod said when New Yorkers were still shivering in mid-March. "That's not buyer remorse. That's buyer rage."

Oh how I feel your plight, Ms. Novogrod. (Hold on a second, I need to toss my Target clothes in the laundry. Ok, back.) And so, once the rich feel ripped off (gasp), then of course the designers are left to bear the brunt of the backlash, which has recently caused many to demand being left out of department stores' sales.

"All our brands are taking great care to ensure that what happened in November will not happen again," Paola Milani tells the WSJ. Milani is a spokeswoman for Gucci Group, which owns Bottega Veneta, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci and other brands. And what happened in November was that it was the first time designers saw their merchandise so drastically marked down by the retailers who carried their goods. "The idea is to maintain pricing coherence in the regions in which our products are sold regardless of channel of distribution."

The article states that the luxury brands want to control when they take discounts and on which products. And the deals will likely be less sweeping. Why does that not surprise me...and make me feel somewhat left out. Oh wait, it's because I can't readily flick my debit card over the cashier's counter whenever I get the slightest notion to buy a new coat or handbag costing over $1,000. Come on, Economy, work your magic in the sale section of this brunette on a budget's nearest Bloomingdale's...

Is grad school worth it in This Economy?

It's not breaking news that (in general), if you get a higher education degree, you make more money. But a writer over at Slate decided to test this theory recently by taking her reporting to the masses of 20-somethings who are contemplating whether or not going to grad school is worth it in This Economy. What she found is that though more school is usually an unbeatable bet in the long term, it is not looking that way to a lot of students in the here and now. One respondent, in particular, wrote to her with:

"I have a B.S. in sociology, and its value bears a strong similarity to its initials."

Ouch. Then again, what do you expect when you major in sociology? (Kidding, kidding.) According to the article, it seems plenty of students appreciate school as a refuge from the dreaded job market but are wary of the immediate payoff.

Look at student loans, the opportunity cost of taking two (business) or four (law) or eight (medicine) years off of your working life, add in a horde of other people with the same qualifications as you who are competing for a handful of available jobs and it's easy to see just how much the job market in these professions looks like a bubble that is about to burst. [Actually, law school is three years.]

To be fair, the story does mention that economists across the board dispute these points. "When things recover, it's going to be the highly skilled who are still in greatest demand (as has been true for the last three decades)," David Autor of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology tells Slate. "So, for someone considering engineering, medicine, computer science, economics, law, biology, etc., I would say 'go.' ... The recession makes education look like a better deal than ever because the opportunity cost of investing in your human capital has not been this low in quite some time."

But even the traditional safe havens in the job market, like becoming a lawyer, aren't so safe anymore. (Love complains about legal layoffs across the U.S. on a weekly basis, and let me tell you people, from all the info he shows me, it's a scary, scary time to pursue a legal career.) According to the Slate reporter, she "also heard from law school graduates with $200,000 in debt who wonder what they were thinking as firms downsize and implode." MIT's David Autor response? "As for the law degree being underwater: Lawyers may get their shoes wet during the recession, but high school grads can't even see the surface they are so far down," he says.

So the question remains: Is higher education still worth it? I'm of the mind that education cannot hurt you. I have my Master's and although I'm sure I could have gotten as far as I am in my career now without the higher education I traversed through, my degree is an added perk on my resume and in the training that's gotten me to this point; therefore, I have no regrets. It may be harder to find a job now for someone with, say, an MBA (students on a budget can consider an MBA online to an affordable degree) or degree in a tech-related field, but once This Economy turns around, I do think the highly skilled/educated folk will be the first to cross the threshhold into the new job landscape.

Do any of you have your graduate degrees and wish (at this point) that you could just give them back? If you went on after college, did you think grad school was a waste of time? If you opted to not pursue a grad program, what was the biggest reason?

Eat for free at work

One of seven tips on how to eat for free at work, from Top Cultured:

Tip #2: Screw expiration dates on frozen foods.
It’s inevitable. People get busy. A flustered sales guy will misplace a Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak dinner under an ice cube tray. The crunchy stoner from the mail room will leave a Kashi stir-fry dish in the company freezer and forget about it. That’s when the waiting game begins. I try to make the rounds every other day or so checking to see what frozen stock is about to hit the magic date - much the way a Napa Valley winemaker checks his oak barrels, waiting for them to mature. The day after something expires, I pounce. And don’t worry about getting sick; the date says
BEST if used by April 10, 2007. It’s not a warning. It’s a suggestion.

Hilarious. Click over to read all seven.