Today’s headline was stolen from last week’s newsletter from my old church in Maryland. And after a week of practically mainlining old anti-anxiety pills I’d stashed in the freezer for such an occasion, I realize that what matters ISN’T all this.
What matters is that I end up in Key West (pictured, Garmin-style) or thereabouts. That I don’t have to panic about money even though I’m working my ass off. That I don’t have to deal with people who think they “know editorial” because they took an English class.
I want to write books, damn it. Fictional, beach-reading novels and leadership non-fiction. And I want to trade. I mean, I know a whole lot about the markets and every conceivable strategy to make money from them. All I need is money to get started!
I have a very tiny sum stashed aside as my emergency fund. And when anybody asks me for a “hot stock tip,” I tell them not to trade with money they can’t live without. And this month, I have to bust open my iddy biddy widdle nest egg to pay the rent.
One could argue that, sure, I could have invested that money and it would have been worth twice what it is. Or, seeing how the markets are in a downward spiral and have been since August (and will be until the Eurozone gets its finances in check), I could have had nothing to fall back on except homelessness and broken dreams … dreams that already have been slimmed down like a fat girl on a diet.
I agonized a lot this week. Worked my ass cheek off. WORRIED my other ass cheek off. Lost a lot of water weight in tears. Replaced that lost water weight with Guinness. 😉
Yesterday I had to walk away and have a damn weekend. It was glorious. Today it’s back to the digital salt mines, but there’s a reason why God wants us to rest. It’s called perspective, and getting some.
A friend asked me the other night what I’d do with myself if I hit the lottery. That’s easy. Get a car that isn’t a rattling deathtrap, buy a house in the Keys, sign up as a foster parent and start trading and either prove everybody right who thinks I’m good, or lose my risk capital and have to go back to work.
I’ve been in contact with a lot of key people in my field this week. And at a time when I’m feeling low because my editing ability came into question (I know, right?), it feels good to have the ear of key CEOs and executive VPs all over the country.
Anyway, to answer the question of what’s important to me, really, I want a job I love and a regular paycheck. I want to trade or do freelance on the side so I’m not worried what happens if the job goes away. I want my mom to be healthy and happy so I don’t have to worry about her as much. And I want to live in a place that brings me more joy than nightmares.
I’d say those are the beginnings of a life plan, right there.