For those who still check in here every so often, I’m moving to a new location. Email me at aebracken at gmail dot com for details if you’d like to follow along! Gracias!
Tags: blogging, swearing
Let’s dust this thing off, shall we? Is this even still on? Hello?
Momma needs her outlet back, one that’s not necessarily baby-free but is decidedly ALL ABOUT ME.
Because dammit, I have things to say. And they may involve swearing. So there.
Stay tuned, m’dears. Would love to know if you’re out there so chime in and we’ll carry on!
(and holy shit (ha! I can swear!), is this new WordPress throwing anyone else a major curve ball?)
Nothing sends me into a tailspin like money worries. There are definite periods of my adult like that have been marked by an underlying current of financial stress, and this is one of them. Which is ridiculous, given our combined income. When I do the math on our monthly net take home pay, it makes ZERO sense that I’m a basketcase and losing sleep over financial matters.
Here’s what just chaps my hide: we have a financial planner/advisor at Ameriprise. We paid them money to plan our finances. We’re all set up with IRAs, life insurance policies, you name it. Yet somehow, these people we pay to MANAGE OUR FINANCES, can’t get their act together and update our accounts with our new bank information. So for the second month in a row, they’ve deducted money from our old account – racking up almost $200 in overdraft fees, even after repeated calls, emails, etc. begging them to get their shit straight. Our advisor has moved on to another position, and I can’t get an answer on who our new advisor is – so I can’t even find someone who’s “responsible” for us.
I’m so frustrated, I could scream.
It’s just one of the items on my mental list of things I need to get straightened out before I can sleep easy. Our property tax bill came last week, yet our mortgage company paid those for us back in November. So I have to find out why we’re being sent a bill for thousands of dollars. Our gas company apparently didn’t update our bank account info either, so I have to go through that process again. I’m desperately trying to sock away money in our savings account for my unpaid maternity leave that’s looming over us like the mother of all black, gloomy clouds…but at the same time pay every spare penny we have towards American Express to get that sucker under control. And let’s not even talk about preparing for daycare, not to mention diapers and god only knows what else.
It’s all just a mess. I’m a mess. I know we’re just in a transition state with getting things setup and switching back and forth between banks has caused so many of these headaches…but I just feel like it should be easier. All the talk about being on the heels of a recession and our economy tanking is only making things worse, and I just want to STOP THINKING ABOUT MONEY MATTERS for awhile. K?
I’m normally not big on resolutions, but 2007 was kind of a weird year for me so I feel like I need to fake some sort of structure for the next one. First, let’s talk about how this will be the year I become a mother. Me. A MOTHER. what? It feels beyond weird to even write that. My daughter comes into the world soon. I’ll have a daughter. This is flipping me out.
My resolutions for 2008, in no particular order because honestly, does prioritization ever matter in these lists?
visit my grandfather. and actually, I lied above – this is probably my #1 priority.
stop eating fast food. The exception will be Chick-Fil-A because I have to be realistic here.
resolve my career path indecision and make a change that aligns with the work/life balance and personal gratification I seek.
make a daily effort to make my husband feel appreciated. I am horrible at this and it eats at me, because I couldn’t ask for a better partner and shame on me for not letting him know that every single day (see! that’s a start. Love you, krod).
Happy New Year!!
It’s hard to get in the holiday spirit when it’s 75 degrees outside. So ridiculous. But I was determined to do something festive last weekend, and after hearing numerous people talk about how wonderful Opryland is with “9 million lights” and their wonderful Christmas decor – not to mention a whole article in Southwest’s in-flight magazine ranking it as one of the best lights displays in the country – I figured it was a no-brainer.
W-R-O-N-G. omg. First of all, really bad call to go on a Saturday night. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I suggested this, but it could not possibly have been more crowded. Opryland is like a Vegas hotel/convention center, which really surprised me. It’s enormous and sprawling and so commercialized. But imagine EVERYONE who’s visiting Vegas squeezing themselves into ONE place at the same time. That’s what this felt like.
The entire rural population of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama had dusted off their Christmas sweaters (the ones with blinking lights were my personal favorite), dressed their kids in matching tacky outfits, and strapped on their fanny packs for the OUTING OF THE YEAR. Now, of course this all makes for excellent people watching. The only redeeming part of our visit was the 20 minutes spent sitting on a bench and watching people walk by, trying to keep straight faces and wondering out loud if we’re just big city snobs (probably) or if these people were really that out of touch with what passes as acceptable fashion decisions (likely).
If only the “lights display” had been worth seeing. Apparently the 9 million lights were spread out over the 9 acres, so it just felt like any other hotel at Christmas with a few strands hanging here and there. It was bad. It was worse knowing we’d forked over $15 to park about a mile away to experience such glory.
I’ve made very few bad calls about sightseeing-type things over the years….a certain Irish festival in Coney Island comes to mind….and now this. You cannot pay me enough to set foot back in Opryland at this time of year, if any. I always thought Rockefeller Center was hell on earth the weeks preceding Christmas, but oh, how wrong I was. Hell has new meaning.
boss: “I saw on the news today that Omaha’s getting pounded with snow…wish we’d get some of it here.”
me: “yeah, my parents live in Lincoln and I got a picture of it earlier. pretty crazy.”
boss: “wait. your parents are in Lincoln? I thought they were in Atlanta?”
me: “no, they’ve been out there for a few years. Moved from Westchester, NY so it was a bit of a culture shock.”
boss: “I bet. wow. ”
co-worker popping his head out of his office: “did someone say Rochester?”
me: “No, Westchester.”
co-worker: “Oh, thought you said Rochester, NY – I was born there.”
me: “oh, no…but so was my sister. ”
boss and co-worker: “????”
me: “yeah, I used to live there too. we moved around a lot.”
boss: “you’re confusing.”
me: “I know.”
This is just of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time.
…would be what we lovingly refer to as “hormones at work”. After 11 hours on a shoot today, my 3-coworkers bailed on me for dinner leaving me alone with our 2 clients. And I started crying. Luckily I was in my hotel room at the time and not in front of them, but I just lost it. I have no idea why, other than being really damn tired and kind of sick of entertaining these people…coupled with the fact that I have to hit the road at 6am tomorrow to do it all over again. And then again the next day. I’ll say it one more time: anyone who thinks advertising is glamorous needs to come hang out with me for awhile.
Sure, hearing the grips talk to each other about how Brad Pitt is holding up the film they’re working on because he’s demanding rewrites “like usual” is always entertaining, but do I actually get to SEE Brad Pitt? No. My co-workers, on the other hand, run into Hillary Swank and Leonardo DiCaprio in seperate instances on this trip…was I around at either time? No. Of course not. This is how my life works. Instead I get to work with the guy whose resume’ touts a few guest spots on Nip/Tuck and a Verizon commercial that only aired in England.
I am totally blogging about work. I know. But I cried tonight for no reason and so I just kind of want to get it out there, ok? I am huge and pregnant and sat in a 300 degree room watching take after take of so-so acting today, and while the spots are actually going to be hysterical and great, the process is exhausting. I live for this crap and would rather be spending my days doing this than sitting behind a desk, trust me, but I think I’m starting to realize my limits in this “delicate state”. I’m openly rolling my eyes at people, which is normally something I’m extremely skilled at doing in a discreet manner, and I’m definitely piping up more when my environmental needs (temperature. food. water. sour patch worms.) are not being met to satisfactory standards and am so that girl on the set. Do I care? Lemme think….No. No, I do not care.
Over the last year or so, I’ve been realizing with more and more clarity that I’d like to be doing something else….a slight career change in the same vein/realm of what I’m doing, but different enough that I’d likely have to drop down a few rungs to do it. I’m just not sure I can climb that ladder again. Not sure I have the fight in me this time, financially and just emotionally. Cause Lord knows I’m not the flag-waver for mental stability these days. I’m a bit of a mess, but keep telling myself I’m allowed to be for a few more months. Because then I have to be a real grown-up and take care of another human being.
For now, though, I’ll sniffle my way through another client dinner and try to pretend like the sexist jokes and stupid “war” stories about the good ol’ days don’t faze me. Because that’s my job.