time and money

In general, you can have either time or money -- but usually not both at the same time.

I like my job -- it affords me great flexibility most of the year, which really helps when I am pursuing writing for publication. But I also do some freelance writing on the side to fund various projects (house remodeling goals) and pursuits (vacations, writing retreats, and self-publishing goals), and that eats up some of my flexibility.

The more freelance projects I take, the less time I have to spend on the kind of writing I really want to work on, which is fiction. And yet, it is so hard to consider giving up a relatively easy and consistent source of income when my brain keeps telling me, You could keep doing both if you were just better at managing your time. And on top of that, my dad's voice in my head, reminding me of what his parents always told him: You get ahead by doing more than everyone else. 

(My grandparents were the O.G. Hustlers.)

A few weeks ago I wrote about how you have to give yourself the benefit of your own time, and I still firmly believe that. And the fact is, I am pretty good at managing my time. I'm not the best, but certainly not the worst. I manage to perform all the duties at my real job (quite well, if you ask me), spend quality time with my husband, keep my house (sorta) clean, my dog healthy and sufficiently snuggled, etc.

It's just that there are only so many hours in the day. More importantly, there is only so much mental capacity before I start hitting what Nick calls my psychological "allostatic load."

This weekend, I sat down to hit my 1,000 words goal for the week. And before I knew it, I had opened up my freelance writing projects and begun agonizing over them. I've tried to build up a few pieces so I don't have to work during my busy season at the Day Job, and I haven't finished quite as many as I would have liked, and ...

The excuses mounted and before I knew it I had spent two hours writing the sort of stuff that pays me -- and found myself without the mental energy I needed to work on the sort of stuff that fulfills me.

(By the way -- I know this post is the very definition of first world problems. "Ohh, someone can't follow her bliss, boo hoo!" Just had to acknowledge that I also know I am very privileged and being somewhat ridiculous about my circumstances.)

I don't know what I am going to do about this at the moment. I know what I should do (give up the freelance work and tighten my financial belt) but it is so very hard. 

If you have any recommendations on how I find more hours in the day and more mental fuel in my tank, believe me. I am all ears.

C is for critiquing

Here is what my financial future looks like at the moment:

1. Potential dog brain surgery ($X,XXX)*

2. Almost-certain main sewer line retrofitting ($XX,XXX)

3. I-wish-I-could kitchen remodeling ($XX,XXX)

Let's just say, vacation prospects aren't looking good for 2013. To say the least.

When you already live a relatively frugal lifestyle (my indulgences include eating out, the occasional moderately priced cardigan, and vacations), it's hard to know what you ought to cut out. Once you eliminate Cafe Rio, H&M, and road trips, what is left to axe?

Cable? Don't have it.

Fancy cell phone plan? Don't pay for one.

$1,500 a day Faberge egg habit? (Name the reference!)

As I ponder what I could do to make up the difference between What I Need and What I Have, the thought occurs to me ... hey, remember that writing thing you do that you currently don't make any money from?

Could I possibly find a way to make money from that?

So I’m putting it out there – starting in May, if there is any interest, I will be offering editing and critiquing services.

Qualifications:
Section and copy editing experience (May 2005 - May 2006)
Textbook editing (September 2007 – April 2009)
Fast reader (like, like whoa levels of speed)

If you’re interested, email me at theadventuresoflawyergirl (at) gmail or leave a comment. I would love to get some feedback/thoughts on this idea, even if you aren't interested in my services. What kind of critiquing would YOU want, if you were to hypothetically pay for some?

(Disclaimer: Of course, if we've already done the critique partner thing, I wouldn't charge you, and if you would like me to read for you in exchange for you someday reading for me, why of course that's a different matter! But if you just need someone to tear up your manuscript or even term paper with their little red pen -- or track changes, as the case may be -- I'd be happy to oblige for a fee that is yet to be quite determined ...)

30 by 30

Well, I've been pondering this post for awhile -- mostly because I can't think of 30 awesome things I want to accomplish in the next year. So if you all have any suggestions, I am all ears!

1. Publish a book

This one can include signing a contract to publish a book or self-publishing a book.

2. Plan a trip outside the country

Why does it say "plan" instead of "go on"? Because the best time for me to go on a grand vacation is probably next summer, at which point I'll already be 30, haha.

3. Get Spencer registered as a therapy dog.

This one will be tough, as I think Spencer will also have to learn some obedience ...

4. Run a 5K

5. Lose 15 pounds and keep it off

6. Learn to cook 15 new recipes successfully

7. Remodel my kitchen

8. Take a surfing lesson

9. Read 52 books

Already started! Silver Linings Playbook, Gone Girl, The Fault in Our Stars

10. Plant a garden. Keep it alive.

... and that's all I've got. I know, I'm pathetic! Does anyone have 20 more suggestions for me?

Financial goals

I have a hard time saving money unless I have some very clear cut spending goals in mind. (Saving for saving's sake? Preposterous!*)

New computer last Christmas? Check.

Vacation to Hawaii? Check.

These things I can accomplish because I know how much they cost, I know how much I need to deprive myself, and then I let my bank account kick some ass and take some names. I am a savings fiend when I know why I am saving.

But when I just think, "Man, I should just indescriminately save some money," well, that's when I find myself going out to eat too much and downloading books for my Kindle that are probably available at the library. In short, frugality for mere frugality's sake doesn't work and increases my pants size to boot.

Now I've got three new goals I'd like to share, in no particular order of importance.

1. Kitchen

Now, I love my little casa. I love the antique glass windows that don't retain heat in the winter and make it nearly impossible to keep my little brick bungalow cool in the summer. I love the crazy squeaky hardwood floors. I love the woodwork. I love that it came with an angel. I love the porch -- I feel like a Clampet in the very best possible way when I sit out there with my dog and read and sip a Diet Coke.

And I used to be faintly charmed by the kitchen, with its lack of counter space and bizarrely laid out cabinet design. I used to think the antique oven that burns everything in the middle and under cooks everything on the left, so basically you can cook a single row of cookies per cookie sheet and only if you line them up on the right side, was kind of quirky and fun. And who needs a dishwasher? Not the pioneers, that's for sure!

But now that I've lived in you one year, Dear Casa, I want to take a sledgehammer to your counter space, tear the cabinets out of your walls with my bare hands, and stick your linoleum flooring on pikes in the yard as a warning to all other kitchens: You burn one more damn cookie, I will burn you to the ground and sea salt the earth.

2. Pocket pig.

I don't think anything else needs to be said, am I right? I mean, it stretches out the EXACT SAME WAY as Spence when he's tuckered! Puppy-piggy soulmates, that's what this is.

3. Paris.

 You, the City of Lights. Me, Ru. Next spring. It's happening, dear Paris.

Because a girl can't live on new kitchens and the love of piglets alone.






* I know it isn't actually preposterous. I know it, and yet somehow, I find it impossible.

the things to do

Do you ever look at your life and think, "I know this is all manageable individually, and yet collectively, I still feel like I've bitten off more than I can chew"?

The Casa

• Needs to be rewired, but according to the electrician I met with yesterday, will cost 50%-100% more than I originally budgeted.
• Did you know I have a rose archway?  I do.  I also don't know anything about roses, much less climbing roses.  But I do know my archway is severely overgrown and it has come time to hack away at it arbitrarily.

 

We're going to take over! Just like in The Happening!

• I need to get a door for my office.  And posts for my porch.  I'd explain this in greater depth, but basically now I walk through Diego's room to get to the office.  And my house is in danger of falling down in the next snowstorm.  No big.
• I also need to get serious about cleaning my room and organizing my office.  Enough said about those topics.
• (As a final note, does anyone else find formatting bullet points on blogger extremely difficult?)

Work 

So ... much ... needs ... to ... happen ...

Christmas

What is a girl with no money to do when it comes to Christmas shopping?  You might suggest something like thrift stores or homemade goods, but I have some really materialistic siblings, and that is not going to cut it. 

I can imagine Christmas morning, Echo offering me some DVDs, new earrings, and sweater ... and I give her the calendar I made on my iMac and printed off at work.  On the color printer. 

No, friends. Just no.


Writing

Remember what I just said about the office?  Well, back when I thought I'd only have to spend X on new wiring, I bought myself a lovely new computer for my office. As it turns out now, that was a poor choice.

But I digress.

When it comes to being creative, I need to have organized space.  (When it comes to being a lawyer, however ... well, let's just say my office does not reflect that personal ethic.)  But I am currently overwhelmed about the piles of books and electronics piled up in the office.  Am I the only one who has an extremely difficult time getting rid of wiring?  It's like hoarding for the electronics generation.  Who knows when I might need that Nokia phone charger again!?

And cleaning with Spencer running around is one of the greater banes of my existence.  I will be organizing a file cabinet ... he will be chewing on paperclips.  I will be trying to figure out why I have 15 ethernet cords.  He will be chewing the ethernet cords.

It's not a good combination.

But ... for all of you who were wondering when I'm going to get back to the subject heading of WRITING ... I do have a new sassy idea that I'm pretty stoked about.  So my writing to-do list looks like this:

• Sass up first 10 pages of old project, send to final agent.  If said agent does not care for said project, investigate Kindle Direct Publishing.  (Yes, it's happening.)
• Evaluate NaNo project.  (Official final word count?  21,000 words.  Yes, I'm terrible.  Suck it.)
• Start new project.
• CLEAN OFFICE.

 In no particular order.

Spencer

Yes, he gets his own to-do list.  You see, little Spence knows three tricks -- sit, down, and shake.  He's masterful when it comes to those tricks. An Olympian, if you will.

But does he come when called?  Only if you have cheese.  And can I get him to settle down when I want to eat dinner unimpeded?  Certainly not.  These are issues I must address if I want to be a good pet-owner.

And while I know it's frivolous, I also want him to learn to play dead if I point my gun fingers at him and say, "Bang!"  Because that is just damn adorable.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I have made a grievous error in my pet training.  Namely, I believe that people and pets should maintain separate sleeping spaces.  It's fine if you believe otherwise, but I think my bed should be a HUMANS ONLY zone.

But when Spence was neutered, he came home really dopey and in pain, so I let him sleep on my bed.  And the next night, when I realized he couldn't fit his coned head into his kennel, I let him sleep on my bed.

And this went on, for two weeks, until the cone and his stitches were no more.

So now, even though I don't want my dog to sleep on my bed, much less a dog that is inclined to start pacing three or four times a night to sleep on my bed (and yes that happens), Spence knows that if he starts whining at 3am every morning, my sleep deprived brain will inevitably cave and let him sleep in my bed.

He had a taste of the good life, my friends.  And there's no going back.

Which means every morning l blearily wake up for work with paws and puppy breath in my face, and mentally (and verbally) berate myself for cracking again and perpetuating the whining = special treatment cycle of bad behavior.

But at 3 am, I can be convinced of pretty much anything.

I need to figure out a way to make this not happen any more.

So I guess this all boils down to me saying that CHANGE SPENCER'S BEHAVIOR PATTERNS may be Number 1 on the To Do List.  Perhaps even before "prevent house from falling down."

I told you, I'm serious about this sleeping space issue.

I blame my parents

So in the last 24 hours, I redid my new bathroom plans.  Clawfoot tub = out.  Giant tiled shower = in.

The bonus is that I no longer have to pay for a clawfoot tub.

The drawback is that all the tile I like (and therefore love, and therefore cannot live without) is really expensive.

But look how sparkly ...

It would be like showering in a giant Mediterranean cave.  Oooh, subtropical showering ...

If only Mom and Pops had deprived me as a child, now I would be content with metal sheeting surrounding a communal bucket and a piece of soap on orange twine.  But no.

You know all those blogs that are dedicated to materialism and covetousness?

This post is going to be like one of those.

I give you the, And Then She Was Like Blah Blah Blah: I Want That Edition.

I would like some sweet custom maps of New Denver, Fake Austin and ... umm ... London 2.0.

And a giant mirror.

And a cake dish shaped like a beehive. 

And an iMac.

And Diet Coke dispenser. 

And shutters that go on the inside, like so:

(For the sake of full disclosure, I make no money off this blog, do not know any of the people I have just linked to, and while I aspire to corporate whoredom generally, do not currently believe there is the remotest likelihood that I would ever be given a fancy oven just because I blogged about all the happy feelings double ovens give me.  I did work at Deseret Book once, but I'm just going to go buy the cake dish even though I don't have the employee discount anymore.)

Sometimes it's nice to just get aspirational and pretend I could afford all these things.  Off to make a spirit board collage now.

Arbitrary goal alert

Sometimes when I want to accomplish A, I do B instead and hope that will force me to do A by default.

I want to get in shape, I buy a gym membership.  (Or a bottle of HCG drops, whatevs.)  I want to "get out there more," I set up an online dating profile.  (Always a mistake, people.  Always a mistake.)  I want to read more for pleasure, I get a Kindle.  I want to be that person who cleans every Saturday morning instead of just when things get really tragic, so I get a lot of cleaning supplies and cute rubber gloves. 

This has always given me mixed results (somewhat more in shape ... technically more "dates" ... a few more pages turned ... a slightly tidier apartment ...), but never quite what I'd imagined when I set out my brilliant "Gain Willpower By Default!" plan. 

The last month or so has been kind of rough on my writey ambitions.  Blogging has been mostly fine, but blogging is sometimes just a way for me to feel like, "Hey!  I did write something non-legally today, I'm doing just fine!" when I am certainly not doing just fine.

Now, there are a bazillion good excuses I could offer (really and truly I could) but they'll just depress me and bore you.

So instead I will just ask for your feedback and what is likely just yet another arbitrary round-about goal.

I want to finish my current piece (for whatever reason, I refuse to call it a W-I-P)* this summer.

So I will register for the Southern California Writer's Conference in LA this fall.  With a deadline of September 3rd for all crititique submissions.

Game, set, match, self.

Thoughts, criticisms, concerns?  Good plan, or more like my order the "Carmen Electra Stripperobics"  DVD plan?  (That one was both for getting in shape and getting out there more.)





* I do this all the time.  The 1L Reading Room at law school had (what I considered to be) a fairly dorky nickname.  I refused to call it that for nearly a year, and cracked only when I finally realized I was the only student out of roughly 300, plus teachers and administrators, who didn't refer to it as "The Gibby."  And then I crumbled like the Berlin Wall.

I hate nicknames and abbreviations.  I don't know why. 

Picky picky

I have some fairly finicky requirements to get through life -- but because I don't live in a sitcom, that doesn't make me endearing but difficult, so I try to keep most of them to myself.

This is why I am not sympathetic to the picky stranger phenomenon.

If I have to accommodate a picky friend's needs, I can and will do it -- even if it means every time we invite law school friend Sally out to dinner, we can only go to Zupas, Red Robin, or Chilis.

But strangers can just go to hell.

I am currently trying to find someone who will take my apartment lease off my hands at some point this summer.

I don't understand people who don't understand that an apartment is not a woven blanket at some street bazaar.  You don't dicker over an apartment.

Now, it's fine if you want X, Y or Z, or can only afford to pay Q.  Those are facts of life. But if you realize that I don't have X, Y, Z, or that my apartment costs Q+1, then just get over yourself or move along.  But don't respond to my description of a newly remodeled kitchen just to say, "I much prefer hardwood and a gas oven."  (For example.)

You see, I prefer that the world only be filled with puppies, Diet Coke, sushi rolls, and people with IQs over 110, but we can't always get what we want.




(Yup, I've got a case of the grumpers this week ... along with your average run-of-the-mill sickness.)

Am I a double oven kind of girl?

For various reasons we will not discuss now, I am in the market for large appliances.

I have to tell you, as someone who likes to shop, I totally understand the happy-blissy feeling that accompanies the purchase of new shoes or an extra soft cardigan.  But people -- French door refrigerators?  So much better than that.  Oh, French-door refrigerator ... I would crawl up inside you and take a nap if that episode of Punky Brewster hadn't taught me not to.

But not everything is as simple as the feelings of lust 27 cubic feet of refrigerated goodness can inspire in me.  No, other things are like, "Did you even know that dishwashers could be portable?  What is the advantage of a portable dishwasher, do you think?  And what's this--a TWO-DRAWER dishwasher?  That would solve my suspicion that the top rack of dishes are not getting quite as clean as the bottom rack." 

"Compactor?  I think I want a compactor, if only so I can have another sleek black-and-stainless-steel shiny thing.  A matched set!  But whatever would I compress?  And won't that just make the trash super heavy on trash day?"

"Why is this gas cooktop so much more expensive than this other, substantially similar gas cooktop?  And why do I feel compelled to believe that the more expensive appliance is the better appliance?"

And, "If I was going to be raised in a community that hit me over the head with gender roles at every corner, why did no one ever tell me whether it's better to have a range or a double oven?  I could bake so many cookies!  And yet lose so much cabinet space!" 

It gets worse when you move into laundry appliances.  "I really want this front-load washer, partly because I heard it gets laundry cleaner, but mostly because it looks AWESOME.  But why is the front-load dryer that costs the same as this washer so much bigger?  Is it better to have a bigger dryer than your washer?  Won't that look funny?  I can't imagine wanting to dry a sleeping bag or small sheep.  And what is the advantage of the gas dryer versus the electric dryer?  And when did that become a difference?  Why have I lived on this earth for 27 years and never been informed of this distinction?"

Also -- does anyone else find it sort of odd that we call washer and dryers "washers and dryers"?  Maybe it's just that I've said the words "washers and dryers" about four thousand times this week, but it's a little caveman to be calling a noun after the verb for which you use it.  No, these aren't my sneakers -- they're my "walkers."  This isn't a keyboard, it's a "typer."  No?

Paint chips are so much easier.

March's mantra

I do not need new jeans, I do not need new jeans, I do not need new jeans ...

Aspiring to Banana Republic

You know those people who can find a "darling"* sweater or dress or pillow for $6 somewhere?

I am not one of those people.

I walk into a store, any store, and suddenly the shelves and racks are exploding with merchandise I can't begin to fathom sorting.  I don't want to bother finding something that fits, much less something that's cute, much less something that's cute and inexpensive.  I may love H&M, etc. but it does not love me.

And you know those people who feel okay buying a hoodie -- a HOODIE -- for $79.99 because it came from J.Crew or something?

I am not one of those people, either.  If something costs more than $50, it better (a) be wearable to work AND church or (b) be wearable every single day (ie, jeans ... or possibly the Holy Grail of bras, but I haven't found one yet).

In law school, my friend Julie and I used to talk about how we wished we could be the kind of people who would feel comfortable buying something at Banana Republic without feeling guilty ... but that's where we'd always stop.  I want to reach the level of financial stability where I can buy a nice dress or pair of work pants, or even a glittery headband (we all have to go nuts now and again), but still have the good sense to run screaming from the idea of buying a $40 candle (Anthropologie) or $400 dress (Barneys, Saks).

The really sad thing is, now that I'm semi-Banana-Republic-secure, I'm trying to be fiscally conservative and junk. 

You really can't win. 



* I'm trying to get over my hatred of the word "darling."  I now officially hate it less than people who find $6 dresses.

Grown up bull crap

Does any one else find 401(K) plans infuriating?

Do I want to be a conservative investor?  Certainly.  But I'm also only 26 and what's the point of even investing if I might as well just put my money in a sweet, sweet bank account (with that sweet, sweet 0.75% interest) that has no chance (as opposed to some chance) of imploding on me?*  Oh yes, that's right.  Reducing my gross taxable income.  Damn you, government, for putting me in this position.  And damn you, old people, for living forever and stealing all the Social Security.  Just so we're clear, you may take my income, but you'll never take my kidneys.**

So I venture up to "Model II" on the chart of Predetermined Model Composition, which is described as "Moderate" (Hey, I'm a moderate!  This investment choice speaks to me!) with a mix of 60% bonds and 40% stock.  Then, just for the sake of argument, I glance at Model III, described as "Balanced," which is 40% bond and 60% stock.  (And here I was thinking that "balanced" would be a 50-50 split.  So glad I didn't go to Money School instead of Law School.)

I'mn not even considering Model IV or Model V with their tempting pie charts of large returns.  (I've made that mistake before, evil, persuasive pie charts.)

I would ask family members for advice, but I fear they have none to give.  My dad's financial choices have always baffled me.  He's a saver.  A big saver.  So he doesn't have to worry about the moneys, but when I mentioned the concept of a 401(K) to him, he stared at me blankly, like, "What the hell are you talking about?"  I am vaguely aware that my dad owns stock ... of some kind ... but I imagine it just appeared in his life somehow, as if left by Santa Claus.  And even if this were not the case, I think I have sadly arrived in that point of life where my parents respond to all my dilemmas with, "Well, you've got to be happy."

(I KNOW THAT.  TELL ME HOW TO BE HAPPY.)

And then I think of my grandparents, who I somehow view as simultaneously fiscally conservative and financial wizards.  What would they do?  I don't know.  Their advice was always good, but what stands out most is, "Pull your hair out of your eyes" (Grandma) and "Marry up!" (Grandpa).***  I don't think we ever talked about money, besides the concept of "Make a lot of it."  If only I could go back in time to High School Ru and tell her, "Ask Grandpa and Grandma about investment strategies before it's too late!"

What really kills me is that some people actually forgo the Predetermined Model Composition and create their own portfolio. 

These people make me want to vomit. 

(However, if you, Dear Reader, are one of these clever people, I would gladly welcome your advice on the Conservative-Moderate-Balanced Dilemma.)  (Suck it, Growth-Equity Growth.)

****

* Barring the zombie apocalypse, but I'm already preparing for that one. 

** Guess what book I finished this weekend?

*** Trying not to think about how I am not doing so well on either of these scores. 

**** I stole this picture from Internet.  I am not even close to that arty.

Um, so how is that money-saving thing going?

Several weeks ago, I promised to host a Mary Kay party at my apartment.  That party came and went last night, and with it, my resolution to spend no money.  (C'mon!  Those products are GOLD!)

On the plus side, I'm back on the no-spendy wagon, and had a second success yesterday -- after dieting for two and a half weeks, I was at my desk and realized for the first time in roughly twenty days, I WASN'T HUNGRY!  I knew that self-control thing had to kick in at some point.  So you win some, you lose some.

But speaking of makeup ... my friend Kristen (of all the blog stories involving a person whose name begins with a "K") is a finalist for Stila's Girl of the Month!  If she wins, she gets $500 of Stila products, and really, you should vote for her for this comment alone:

From Papa Kristen, regarding the other finalists:  "You're way cuter than those tramps."

I love dads.

So if you feel so inclined, go here and vote for Kristen!  She'd vote for you.

I guess a more experienced shopper could have gotten more for your seven cents*

I take most of my financial advice from Oliver Stone movies. Greed is good. Leverage is bad. Follow the money. (I think that one was Oliver Stone …) When they gave me the 401(k) forms to fill out at work, I first shuddered as I remembered what happened to my mutual fund post-2008 shitstorm, and then got sleepy as I realized how much effort it would be to research which 401(k) option I wanted. I mean, jeez, there are TWO!

I figured that as a semi frugal person by nature, I could meet my goal of saving X in 2010 just by grit and determination--a 21st century Bette Davis, or at the very least, Punky Brewster. Just put everything in savings, and watch as that sweet, sweet 0.75% interest kicked in. Monthly. And compounding. 

Alas, it is mid-August, and I am less than halfway from my goal. I have no idea where all that money went (aside from buying furniture and paying off student loans … oh, and "utilities" are expensive here in "Texas.")  (And when I say "utilities" here, I mean shoes and utilities.)

So I'm instituting a new thing. No Money Month. It's really simple. For the next thirty days, I'm not buying anything except for groceries.**  That way, thirty days from now, my ass will be smaller and my bank account larger. 
 
Wish me luck ... or laugh uproariously when I fail.  Up to you. 
 
 
* Not an Oliver Stone quote, but still awesome. 

** And that one trip to Cafe Rio I've been thinking about for awhile now.  But just the one!

Daaaaaaaaaamnit

I believe I may have previously alluded to the fact that I have no willpower.

Well, I've been trying to save money.  As someone who is already relatively fiscally responsible, I figured this wouldn't be too tough.  All you have to do is not buy stuff.

But then Amazon dropped the price on the Kindle.

I mean, it holds 1500 books.

That's practically an investment, right?

Going out with a bang (or a whimper)

Me, yesterday at work, trying to put a movie on hold at Blockbuster:

Dialing.  I am thinking, Please answer fast, please answer fast. 

Dang it, someone's walking toward my desk.  Answer slow, answer slow!

"Blockbuster, how may I help you?"

Crap. Time to haul A for the snack machines area ...

"Yes, I would" -- CRAP, there's someone here!  Turn around turn around, walk back toward desk -- "like to know if you all can put movies on hold?"

"Of course, which movie would you like?"

Oh balls -- standing an equal distance from my boss's open door and the guy who's getting a candy bar in the snack area ... "Um ..."

Two second analysis process (thank you, law school):

1. There appears to be no way out of this situation, short of running into the ladies' while still on the phone ...

2. Not going to do that.

3. How much do I want to rent this movie?

4. Very much.

5. Oh balls.

I glance down both ends of the hall, and whisper, "The Hangover."

January 11, 2010 ...

... I will have a job.

Girl of constant sorrow

I don't mind the theory behind taxes. People pay money to the government, which then uses money to feed the poor, educate children, pave roads, and cure cancer.  I love all that stuff.  

But the 2008 tax returns were a troubling time for me … a time that has still left repercussions on my life today, weeks after April 15.  I chose to forgo my dad’s accountant this year, since I am (as I believe has been previously mentioned) impoverished.  Instead, I took a trip to the good folks at Volunteer Income Tax Assistance, or VITA, who were willing to file my taxes for free, free, free. 

Now, to be clear, everything I say from this point on should in no way reflect on 90% of the VITA people.  In fact, a good friend recommended this program to me, and so I had nothing but high hopes.

At the end of this lovely process, I found myself in the position of owing to the State of Utah $2,000.  How can this be? says I, a lowly research assistant who made $10 an hour during the spring of last year.

Oh, said the VITA person, you made money in Arizona when you did that summer internship with a law firm.

But nay, I reply, I paid taxes on that money to Arizona!  Forsooth, tis but true!

(The subject of my most recent tax return makes me a little early American revolutionary.) 

To which the VITA person sadly shook their head – poor, math-challenged law student – and explained that Utah was entitled to glom onto the money that I made in Arizona, since Utah was my primary residence. 

This seemed … I don’t know what the word for it is … “unconstitutional,” perhaps?  And as I sat, baffled, the helpful VITA people electronically submitted my taxes for me.

The next day, I was still so bothered by this whole taxed-by-every-state-I-entered-in-2008 thing (despite being grateful for the failed-to-mention-vacations-to-California-and-DC-lest-they-tax-me-too thing), I went to go see my dad’s accountant after all.  And he found several mistakes in my tax returns in under 2 minutes of review that could have saved me the $2,000 dollars, plus $100 more from the feds. 

I say “could have” because remember how the VITA people ELECTRONICALLY SUBMITTED MY TAXES FOR ME? 

Now I wait for the State of Utah to act on my amended tax return and send the money back. Which, despite Utah’s reputation for conservatism and low tax burdens, I don’t see happening any time soon.  

So you're probably wondering, Hey, this happened over a month ago - why are you complaining about it now?  Well my friends, I am complaining now because now I really want some Cafe Rio ... but can't afford it.  I would like to stay in Salt Lake for the summer, but instead I am packing my apartment so I can move back in with my parents while I study for the bar.  Also, I got a really cute swimming suit from Victoria Secret that I ordered and paid for months ago (when I wasn't broke) that finally arrived after back-order, and I feel like I should return it because really, I have a Target version that's very similar.  

Ugh, fiscal responsibility.