Well, I did it. I sent the email declining the job offer. Before anyone tells me I just lost an incredible opportunity, let me first be clear about a few things:
1. I’ve learned throughout this process that I need to stop taking to heart how others feel when what I really need to be doing is listening more intently to my own beat.
2. It’s really fucking expensive to move to another country, and until you know my finances intimately, you don’t really know. You know?
I don’t mean to sound rude, but it’s really, really hard to make such a huge decision when left and right you’re told that money doesn’t matter, or that you’re wussing out because you don’t want to be going down the road to bankruptcy town. All of my young adult years I went about my business as if money didn’t matter and it led to serious problems. I cannot continue down that path.
Continue reading “Decision Made”
Tag: debt
Piece of Sh*t Car a la Adam Sandler
Friends, my car is dying an ugly, ugly death. We had been given a year, but the diagnosis is now, much worse. The sickness running through the fluids and electrical system has recently sped up, and I am now making funeral arrangements. I’m devastated, but not surprised. When you have no emergency break, and chunks of seat break off, daily, you know your car’s days are numbered.
Everyday, driving to and from work is pushing it. I also have to drive sans air conditioning, and like an 80-year-old with nowhere to go. It’s awful.
It’s not even like I’m that close to my car. It has no quirky name, and no emotional connection to me, whatsoever. I mean, when your car needs major repairs just to pass smog each year, it isn’t exactly considered a prized possession.
No, I’m dreading making car payments. At the ripe-old-age of 32, I’ve never been tied down by car payments. My piece of poo on wheels only cost me $5,000 and it’s been paid off since 2006. I am dreading having to make a substantial payment on a car every month. I’m a teacher, not a billionaire.
With that, because I’ll be a slave to the bank or car dealership for 48 months or longer, I want to be able to have a damn nice ride. I’m not even picky, either. ‘Damn nice’ in my world means having a “clicker” and power windows. But, while I’m not exactly “picky” due only to being poor, I’m super particular, at the same time. It’s a Jetta, or the highway.
Since I’ll likely be driving the most expensive thing I’ll ever possess soon, I know I’ll also be an anxious mess. I like to keep my nice things nice, and we know how people are assholes. I’ll be paranoid about it getting dinged, scratched, or hit. The anxiety is already creeping in. UGH. I think I have an ulcer.
When you are super OCD, decisions like this are not fun, like most people would treat them. No, all I’m thinking about is how long I’ll have to give up morning Starbucks runs or buying beef because I’ll be paying on a car. I’m dreading the car hunt, because shopping around for something you really can’t afford really kinda sucks. Also, my car has already been keyed by some asshole, and I haven’t even seen it yet.
Wish me luck on my search. Pray I hit the lotto. Something. Anything.
My friend and I would blast this song as we “dragged main”, in my first piece of shit car, an ’86 Mazda 626 with maroon interior and purple tinted windows. We thought we were so hilarious.