I sincerely hope your hump day was easier than high school tramp that "humped" boys under the risers at homecoming. Waka waka waka!
As you may know, pretty soon I'll be moving into another apartment (fingers crossed) and if you've never had the luxury of moving every 1 1/2 or so, it can be a right pain in the ass. But it can also be liberating. You're forced to purge alot of shit that you really don't need. One of the joys of moving for me personally, is re-discovering old journals from my Los Angeles arrival 6 years ago. So this week's blog is all about my anniversary!
Boy I was a determined little fucker. In one journal entry date July 27, 2004 I found my Short Term Financial Goals page. Oh this shit is funny---I'm going to give it to you, straight no chaser.
1 Month Financial Goal
Income of at least $400.00 weekly
Always carry cash
$1000.00 minimum in checking account
*Well, I at least achieved one of this things on this list. 6years later, I have exceeded the weekly income by $85.00. That's progress people.
6 Month Financial Goal
Savings account $1000.00+
residuals from film & tv
!!!!Not working to JUST pay rent
*This muufucka so funny, I can hardly type. But wait---I'm not done.
1year Financial Goal
annual income of $60K to 70K
1/2 of debt paid off
save $$ for abootlegbuppie Prouductions
*Really Nic? Real Estate? The fuck outta here. And now folks, the cum shot:
5 Year Financial Goal
Full Production Company! (abootlegbuppie Productions)
Chicago-Owner of Condo or Loft
Income of six figures or more
Completely out of debt
$$$ to start tee shirt and cosmetics company.
I'd like to tell you that I was on LSD when I made this list. But I wrote this without the benefit of a hallucinogenic. I was a single bright eyed girl un-fazed by the vacuous prattle of ugg wearing, over sized sun glassed assholes Angelinos. I was from the city of Big Shoulders, Chicago and could triumph over anything (and make money along the way). I was going to do film, television, write, direct, delve into retail and own property. I was a poor mans version of Kimora Lee Simmons...of course she married a multi-millionaire. At that time, the only action I could get, was the chance of being molested at the public library by stinky Pete, a guy who looked like Ernest Borgnine.
So as I pack up my apartment and come across other rough amusements, I am reminded of the girl I was when I stepped out on faith, and moved her all by lonesome. I had no car, a small wardrobe and no smart phone to keep me occupied. So I wrote letters, called people on the phone, and walked wherever I could. I was miserable at times, but for the most part? I was over joyed. Abundant with hope and determination. LA may has well been Ellis Island. I brought "jest a lettle from the old country" to build a new life. Jeeze...I need to invite that immigrant girl back.
ciao for now fuckas.
NEXT BLOG: WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER CHOOSE THE YELLOW WIRE WHEN DEFUSING A BOMB.