Welcome to my life.

So I am an American, but I am not rolling in the dough; I am tiptoeing in it. A few years ago I took up a career as a hairstylist, built up a substantial clientele over a year, then went back for my four year degree. I moved out into an apartment by myself at age 19, never thinking I would be back home again. Well, I’ve been home for 13 months now–no immediate foresight of moving out. When I went back to college, my time was limited as to when I could work. It became even more limited when I attended a college 80 miles away for my sophomore year. That’s quite the cutback in commission. I thought I planned for it, by taking another job by my school, but I never planned on living on crutches for the fall semester (rollerblading accident).  So I am back at home, with the same amount of bills and one more year of college to pay for; all of this on 1/3 of what I was making two years ago.

Summer is fast, my goals are lofty, and as for my motivation…it was stolen by shiny objects. I am realizing that I still have to start that beach body routine I planned three months ago, even though I’ve worn my bikini 72 hours already. This summer, with my business down, I set big goals: I wanted to read 20 books, paint two large canvases, journal, and travel, cook, run half a marathon. But life goes a little quicker than I anticipated.

Realization: any accomplishment first starts with marking time off to work. When self-employed, or freelancing, you must tell your friends and family you are working full time. Because when you complain about only working 16 hours a week, they find ways to fill your time. Meanwhile, you think you have all the time in the world to tackle your to-do list, then BAM. Summer is halfway over.

My budget is strict… in the loosest sense. It mostly goes to bills, set costs that I expect to pay: insurance, gas, restaurants, a ticket to Eclipse, etc. I am living like everyone else but making less, or maybe the same amount?

But I realized this week that I don’t want to live on take-out the rest of my life.

I don’t want to miss Minnesota seasons by keeping workouts indoors.

I don’t want my checks to be torn apart by automatic withdraws from bills without knowing what percentage I spend where.

I am not one to cook. One to eat? Yes. Cooking? No. I am not picky with my food—I just like it to be made out of ingredients that I can pronounce and recognize.  I prefer for the meat to be attained in a humane way, too. I want to eat well, eat variety, but I also don’t want to go broke.

I like protein powder over peanut butter because it’s more versatile, less fatty.

I like overlapping ingredients so that nothing goes to waste.

I want to have excitement and intention with food because, hey, we have to eat the rest of our lives. I can’t think about how many meals I have to cook the rest of my life, or how many workouts it takes to keep me fit. I have to take one day at a time, learning slowly. This blog is about trying new things along the way. Figured you’d like to read this chunk of my life that might apply to yours. Cause hey, everything’s good in moderation.

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