money

Man! That’s a hard lesson for me.
And lately, revisiting a situation in the same old manner I’ve done in the past just. Isn’t. working.
It’s insanity. Truly. Or in plain speak, it’s crazy making.

Thursday, I tried something different, something new, and I found my way out of crazy town. I know I’m not alone with my over-stamped passport and resident’s visa to crazy town so I thought I’d share what happened.

Things in my life have been going really well. Better than well. They’ve been magorific!
The writing is fun as hell, the possibilities on the horizon — endless. I have found myself happier than I can ever remember being.

I know that saying that out loud is deemed a subversive act, but it comes into play here—I just can’t help it—and besides, wtf’s with THAT?

Anyway…I’ve begun to realize inside this massive reinvention of my life, that my past comes into play pretty much…NEVER.
Nothing I’ve done in my life up to this point, besides learning to read and write, has made a rat’s ass of difference in what is transpiring these days.
That at once feels daunting — making me feel like a complete novice in my mid-fifties where you’re supposed to know shit — and liberating — like I want to take off my bra and run topless down the beach like I may have done as a girl.

The very day I was reveling in this realization, my past came to visit me. To test my resolve.

The City of Los Angeles wanted more tax money from my long since dissolved corporation. I’ve been sending e-mails and faxing paperwork to them for a couple of years. My corporation ceases to exist which means… I owe them nada.

This is the perfect time to say: I have little tolerance of bureaucracy, even less for bureaucracy when they bug you for money, and none at all when they aren’t entitled to the money they’re chasing.

Meanwhile, they’ve gotten creative with their estimations of my imagined sales and have compounded the penalty interest daily. I’m sure you know what that feels like.

It’s like arguing with an obstinant, deaf, assholish elderly uncle — who hates you.

When I saw the envelope my stomach sank. It sank so deep they were going to have to send James Cameron back into the inky blackness of the bottomless Marianas Trench in search of my poor stomach. Then the pit turned to venous victimhood, which is the thug cousin of regular, generic victimhood.

It takes me down the dark allies of shame and lack, places I am VERY familiar with.

My knee-jerk reaction was to rip it up or light it on fire, which is pretty much my knee-jerk reaction to everything
Instead, I called my accountant and basically said, “Make this go away.” She barked back “It’s tax season, I don’t have time for this”, I think I heard her take a sip of beer or a hit off a crack pipe. “You’re going to have to do this yourself. Go to their Van Nuys office in person and take care of it.”

She may as well have suggested I jump into a pen of wild tigers while wearing Lady Gaga’s meat suit.

I hung up, ready to have a cigarette with the thugs in the alley of “this is not fair”.

“Damn. I’ve been so happy”, I lamented. And that’s when it hit me.
I’d rather stay happy than go back into those OLD feelings of victimhood and shame.
My past has NOTHING to do with what my life looks like now. This is NOT going to take me down! I will gather up my own stomach out of the pit of despair, go deal with the bureaucrats myself, and take care of this thing once and for all.

Are you with me?! Can I get an AMEN?!

But first I’ll eat a chocolate chip cookie, look at the paperwork with fresh eyes, see a phone number I’ve never seen before hidden on the back — and make a call.

Due to extremely high caller volume, (from people who were obviously much smarter than I was with much fresher eyes), I was asked to leave my number and they would call me back. “Bullshit!” I sneered and started to hang up. But that was the old way I always dealt with The City of Los Angeles. This new me left my cell phone number cheerfully on the recording.

By dinner time, I realized they hadn’t called me back but instead of fuming I just went back to Plan A.
I will go to Van Nuys and speak face to face with a human being, something I probably should have done years ago. There was no stomach pit, no malice, just anticipation of releasing an energetic albatross that’s been around my neck for years.

I woke up this morning waiting for the sinking feeling I’m so used to. Even as I was reminded of my impending visit to the land of bureaucracy, I felt only relief. That was HUGE for me.

At 9 AM, on my way out the door to the gym, I glimpsed the pile of paperwork I would need for my visit to Van Nuys, and I remembered leaving my number for a callback. “You better take that with you, what if they call you while you’re at the gym?” Before I could start laughing at the absurdity of that thought, the phone in my pocket started ringing.

It was The City Of Los Angeles. I’m not kidding. I can’t make this shit up. No one would believe me.

Mrs. Garcia (I love how when I asked her for her name she told me, Mrs. Garcia. I was in middle school all over again), was all business. She asked me a couple of unanswerable questions before we found some middle ground, I stayed light and shameless, and in the space of ten minutes, a chain of pain that has been severely knotted up for several years — fell away.

Turns out I owed them nada. (Here’s where I want to scream I told you so!!!)
Thank you, Mrs. Garcia!

And thank you happiness for the giant attitude adjustment.
And thank you past, for teaching me this valuable lesson.
And thank you chocolate chip cookie for just being delicious.
And thank You Guys for reading.

Carry on,
xox

“Bird poop brings good luck!
There is a belief that if a bird poops on you, your car or your property, you may receive good luck and riches. The more birds involved, the richer you’ll be! So next time a bird poops on you, remember that it’s a good thing.”
~Bird Poop Expert

What about if a single bird poops on your head while you’re driving in your car? You know, moving target and all. That feels like a whole lotta good luck coming your way—along with super silky hair, right?

I’m about to talk about poop, a lot!
Bird poop to be exact, so if you’re eating your eggs, best to put down your fork right about now. Or oatmeal or yogurt for that matter. Just stop eating until you’re finished reading, okay? Studies have shown that reading while eating can lead to something serious and most likely deadly, like choking while laughing, so in essence, I just saved your life.
You’re welcome.

And now, back to the bird poop.

Many people the world over believe that if a bird lets loose on you, then good things are coming your way. One idea is that it’s a sign of major wealth coming from Heaven (the place where ALL real wealth resides), based on the belief that when you suffer an inconvenience (like a head full of bird shit), you’ll have good fortune in return.

The most popularly held belief is that if a bird hits your noggin, it is so lucky, so random and rare (statistically speaking it is rarer than being hit by lightning), how can a lottery win be far behind?

A Case in point — and true story:

Can a head full of bird poop be lucky, you ask?
A Bay of Islands man swears it is, after winning $100,000 on an Instant Kiwi ticket. The man said a bird recently pooped on his head, and his friends told him it was a sign of luck coming his way.

“This win gives me the funds to be able to get down there and be able to help out in any way I can in the city’s rebuild,” he said.

Let me just start by saying that the man in the story is WAY more altruistic than I’ll EVER be. Or maybe not. After he pays off his debt and relocates, how much city rebuilding can he do? I’m worried about him and his financial planning abilities. He has to make that money last and $100,000 doesn’t go as far as it used to. Maybe he’ll have the free time to volunteer. Okay. I feel much better now.

Anyhow, on Saturday the hubster and I decided to get a jump-start on Valentine’s Day being that we had flaked, waiting until the last-minute and all the good ideas for Sunday were taken. Left to our own devices, we hopped into the car, put down the top, and decided to drive really fast out of the beautiful, summer-like temperatures and head into opaque whiteness of a foggy purgatory, the beach. Faced with the choice of putting the top back up or leaving fog-ville altogether and going for a big lunch, you guessed it, THE BIG LUNCH WON! (No surprise there).

Winding our way through the tree-lined upscale neighborhoods at a brisk 40 mph (oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, it wasn’t a school zone and besides, it was Saturday. Nobody drives below 40 mph. on Saturdays), on our way back into town and our search for the perfect kabob, I felt something clobber my cranium.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, hands on my head looking around like a freak. You have to admire my economy with words. Don’t feel bad. I’m a writer.

Anyway…

At first, I suspected it might be space debris or a tiny piece of meteorite, and it was only when hubby, with his two bare man-hands, picked a rather large and thankfully solid piece of avian excrement out of my hair—that I realized my good fortune. Lottery WINNER!

Can I just take a moment to thank my husband for his courage, strong stomach and lack of any real hygienic awareness? (He’s French). You are my hero and I will split the money with you AFTER I rebuild a city.

Needless to say, when the laughter subsided, (thankfully we share the same warped sense of humor that causes us to laugh at another’s misfortune), we hightailed it to the diviest Liquor Store we could find (because everybody knows THAT is where REAL wealth resides — not Heaven), and bought us some Power Ball, Super Lotto and Mega Millions tickets —and a box of Triscuits—the Rosemary and olive oil kind.

Then with big shit-eating grins on our faces (that’s an idiom, not literally, mind out of the gutter people, Ewwww), we drove to lunch.

Lottery or not, nothing says LOVE like picking bird poop out of your beloved’s hair—so I’m already a winner!

Love you my Big Handsome!

I know. You guys envy my life of glamour and romance. What can I say? I’m one lucky girl. Maybe YOU had a better Valentine’s Day than me? Huh? I don’t think soooo but I’ll listen!

Carry on,

xox

The harvest is always greater than the seed but you have to sow the seed first.
– Tony Gaskins

My garden is insane right now. Even though it’s a hot summer with a historic drought here in California, and it really has no right to be so happy. That’s just how we roll around here.

We are restricted in every way imaginable, and some that aren’t.
The watering days are cut in half and the times allowed are so short that everyone’s lawns are a sad and sorry shade of brown, the urban trees are dying, and the landscaping that Studio City had spent so much of our tax money on this past decade, beautifying the middle of Ventura Boulevard, and other public thoroughfares, looks like a sub-Saharan attempt to grow something green—that has been left to die.

In other words, I live in the land of brown on brown. Los Angeles is slowly reverting back to the desert landscape from whence it came.

But not my yard. Deprivation becomes it.

I have never seen my grass greener or my plants looking better. And the hydrangea. Forget about the hydrangea.
Most years I’ve had a hard time getting them to bloom for me. I see them around the neighborhood, covered with flowers, and mine just looked…anemic. A blossom here, a bloom there, they have been a consistent source of disappointment to me for years.

But not this year.
Their showoffery is so flagrant that I thank God they’re in the backyard so I don’t get arrested
I’m certain our neighborhood lawn police and water patrol would have me fined up the WhoHa. Nobody would believe that I’m adhering to the strict statewide restrictions.
I question it myself. Yet, There they are. Heavy with blooms.

I cut them. Every morning in fear of reprisal. My house is full of pink and blue hydrangea even though I don’t have a lick of pink in my home. And they grow back almost overnight. It’s spooky.

That’s the other thing.
My entire garden is filled with pink. Pink geraniums, pink cyclamens, pink nameless flower on that spiky plant, even pink bougainvillea. Pretty, right? Except for the fact that I planted red. I like red bougainvillea with a Spanish style house and I was extremely careful in my color selection. Same with the goddamn hydrangea. Blue and lavender. NEVER pink. I would never plant a pink flower. They’re simply not my thing.

So the other day while walking across my patio with its numerous pots of flowering plants, standing barefoot in my tall, lush green grass, staring in awe at my six hydrangea bushes laden with pink blooms, hose in hand on watering day, hummingbirds zigging and zagging happily around my head; my heart literally skipped a beat; I had never in the ten years of this garden’s existence seen it look so beautiful. That was precisely the moment when the voice in my head said this:

“That is what abundance looks like Janet, It is everywhere. And if you can notice it around you, you will see it in your bank account. It’s the law.”

Well, is that so?
Huh…I’d never really thought about it like that.
But they had been connected together, hand it hand, by some mystical power greater than myself. The money had started to flow back into my life at almost the exact same time that my garden exploded.

Then my perception changed and I started to notice abundance EVERYWHERE.

Every morning I would stand slack-jawed in my garden, amazed at it’s abundance; and several days a week a check would come in the mail. That has been a rare enough occurrence in my life of late that the word miracle is not an over statement.

Listen, have you walked with fresh eyes through a grocery produce section lately?
What about a farmer’s market? What about a bookstore?
There are twelve movies playing at any given time at my local multiplex and we have nine hundred channels to choose from on our TV.

I live a life awash in abundance—and I bet you do too.

Here’s the thing you guys: You can’t notice the beauty that is all around you when you have your head down, burdened with worry, doubt or despair. You have to be open to seeing it, of letting it astound and delight you.

So which came first? I’d say it was the seed of happiness the garden gave me and the overwhelming feeling of abundance shown to me each morning. Then the money harvest came. Cool huh?

As for pink, I looked it up, it represents caring, compassion and love. Alright, I’ll let it slide.
Hey, who doesn’t need more of that?

Carry on,
xox

Get a load of this library/office! Nigella Lawson amid cook book abundance for sure!

Simplifying Life

More than I wanted money, I wanted Freedom.
Money = Freedom, I wanted me some of that!

More than I wanted Love, I wanted Belonging, Adoration, Security and Value (someone who knows my worth),
Love = all those things, and oh baby, I wanted me some of that!

More than Love, Freedom, Security, Belonging, Adoration and Value, I wanted Peace of Mind,
All of those things = Peace of Mind, and Peace of Mind = Happiness.

Now I KNOW I want me some big piles of that! (covered in chocolate).

And that’s what it boils down to you guys: I want what I want — Because I  know that I will feel happier having it.

Simple as that.

That made me realize how conditional my happiness is (and how high maintenance I really am), and the fact that I’m just starting to really grasp the concept of chasing happiness all over hell and back while it sits at the kitchen table with coffee and the paper, patiently waiting for me…

What about you? I don’t think I’m alone in this?

Thoughts?

I feel a part two of this post coming soon…

Big love & carry on,

xox

You Guys!
I’ve started playing this new game recently. Actually, I’m obsessed with it.

It’s called seeding. No, I’m not planting wildflowers, I’m planting money$.

Yes, you heard me, I’m leaving money on the ground wherever I go.

It’s a practice that’s been around for a while, and I was recently reminded of it by something written byPam Grout of “E-Squared” fame.

The idea is to leave a few dollars on the ground or indiscriminate places along your daily path. It’s more than just leaving a few extra bucks in the Starbucks jar, it involves the element of surprise.

You know the thrill you get when you find twenty dollars in the pocket of a jacket you haven’t worn in a while?
I do the happy dance when that happens because I love an unexpected windfall. Hey, who doesn’t?

What about finding money on the ground?
I used to find dollar bills or wads of cash on my hiking trial on a regular basis. It made me feel lucky and special and …rich.

And that’s the point.

I don’t really have the extra money to be throwing around right now, but I’m getting such a rush from this game that I can’t help myself.

I wrapped a five dollar bill inside of a one dollar note because of the wow factor. That happened to me recently and it made my day.
I thought I found a couple of bucks but as I unpeeled the wad each bill got larger. It was twenty-eight dollars in all –– an absolute found fortune and it bought my friend and me lunch!

I’m a firm believer in what goes around comes around, but I swear you guys, that’s actually secondary to how much fun this is, picturing people finding your little seed money. (You WILL start finding money BTW.)

Trust me, NO ONE is so jaded that finding some cash doesn’t make them smile.

What I know for sure is that the money finds it’s way to the people who need it. That’s the intention behind this little experiment, so don’t be worrying that Joe Fat Cat is gonna run away with your seed money. It ain’t gonna happen, so don’t use that as an excuse.

Believe me, the ones who find it will be extremely grateful. They will feel blessed and fortunate and lucky. Those are the seeds you’re planting. What a gift you’ve given them –– and yourself.

Try it. A couple of dollars isn’t going to make or break you and I swear –– it’s addictive.

My friend leaves a buck or two under her seat in the subway.

I drop a wad of ones outside my car just before I drive away.

I left three dollars in the park.

I leave dollar bills under tables and booths in restaurants, for the person who sweeps up to find as they close up.

I scatter money on my walk in the mornings (no, I won’t tell you the route).

I live in a walking neighborhood with lots of families, kids and dogs, so I left some cash in front of my house between my driveway and my neighbors and no one found it for a whole day. (As a side note, it’s weird, most people don’t look down at the ground.) Anyway, I kept checking and when it finally disappeared…it felt like Christmas –– I smiled my ass off.

I left four dollars on the floor of my car at the car wash –– and the lovely, honest guy who was vacuuming came and found me to give it back. Don’t you just love humanity?

Drop some seed money this week and write and tell me how it went and how great it felt. You won’t be disappointed.

Carry On,
xox

Hello my peeps,
I gotta tell ya, I love this recent blog post from Daniele LaPort.
I’m sure you all know how much this resonates with me, being that after five years we’re still paying off the Atik debt,(my business that failed/flooded) and I just can’t hear this enough, and I know I’m not alone.

Take it away Daniele!

“When my first company tanked, I was on the hook for about $150,000. Before I got slammed with that fact, my CEO, who I hired to run the company, thought it best to fire my Founder’s ass. Shortly after they canned me, the whole business fell apart — because you can’t have a personality-driven business without um, the founding personality there. And because, bad karma.

Anywaaaay, I got to sit back and watch them tank without me. Which was only slightly satisfying. Mostly it was sad and crushing. When the castle crumbled, the bank called me for its money. And because I’d co-signed the loan as a “person” and not as a co-founder of the business — I had to pay up, even though I’d been fired months before.

3) I knew that if I actively resented and bitched about those monthly payments, that it would distract me from my own creations. Also, the anger about the whole situation was heavy-duty. And I was done carrying it. So I re-framed paying the debt into a reason to be grateful. Every time that money came out of my bank account I said, “I’m grateful that I have the money to pay this.” And I was. And I let THAT be the lead story.
And then… magically (but not instantly,) on the VERY same day that I FINALLY made my very LAST monthly payment on that bad debt, my company tipped its first million dollar mark — and I did the happy karma moonwalk. Oh ya, oh ya…”

I’ve just got to say a few words about this. A bit of a rant. You may disagree, you may even get mad. I’ll chance it. At least hear me out.

I have several friends in corporate America.
And while I have to admit that it pays well and the rewards for a job well done, like a bonus or an accommodation (very similar to a star by your name on the chart in grade school – I mean, who doesn’t want THAT?) keep them invested, it’s been my observation that as you tow the company line, it will suck your soul.

And you are REQUIRED to. That line MUST be towed.

What I’ve seen happen, and it may not be in the first five or even ten years, but eventually, after a while, these people lose site of their own voice, their authenticity, their inspiration, their truth, their juju – and then their soul.

They operate in fear of being found out for the joyful, fun-loving, sometimes inappropriate, crazy creative beings that they are.

THAT is often frowned upon and certainly NOT rewarded.

And the tape that plays in the background like cheap elevator music is this: There is nothing special about you. You are expendable. There are thirty people in line behind you that are more qualified for your job. Don’t flinch, don’t be sick, don’t say “no”, don’t look away, keep your eye on the prize – or you’re gone.

Well, that is so empowering, such a morale booster! You must feel so appreciated – treasured even.

Shit – I can hear one friend’s voice now (you know who you are) “Your job is not here to make you feel appreciated and treasured. You have kids for that.”

Just to be fair it’s not every big corporation, but sadly, it’s most.

One of my friends works for a company that was recently purchased by one of those large investment corporations, you know the ones. Every year they have to show a larger and larger profit to keep the hungry share holders at bay. You and your life are of no concern to them.
They don’t care if your kid is sick, your mother is dying, your car was stolen, or you found a lump on your breast. “Get your ass on that plane to Atlanta, you have a big deal to close.”

It’s all about the bottom line – baby.

“We all have to wear navy blue now” it was the latest edict handed down from Headquarters. “Do you know how hard it is to find pants, skirts and jackets that are all the same shade of navy?”
I’m sure the question was rhetorical given the fact that I haven’t matched anything since Geranimals, and MY uniform of late is LuLu Lemon, but I could sympathize.

“Reasonable navy suits are next to impossible! Black would have been so much easier – everybody’s got tons of black. Ugh, I’m getting the feeling this is just the start, I think a uniform is where they’re headed.”

The sad part to me, besides my friend having to go out and purchase a new wardrobe on her own dime, is the fact that as far as I can see, her clothes had become the last way for this young, stylish, corporate woman to assert her individuality – now that ship has sailed.

She was just telling me about a form the company wants them to fill out. They’re looking for suggestions on how to improve things and where she sees her future going.

It’s a trap!! Don’t answer it! Run!

I’m kidding, yet in my imagination, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they used those answers as grounds for termination somewhere down the line. They ask for initiative and then quell it at every turn.
I’ve seen it happen over and over.

You’re out of line, too much free thinking. Bye bye.

I wish corporations rewarded individuality.
I wish they made people feel appreciated along with compensated.
I wish they invested in their people more.
I wish it wasn’t all about the money.
Money over feelings.
Money over effort.
Money over time served.
Money over people.

But I wish I was six feet tall, dark and exotic looking.
Next life I guess.

Okay…let me have it! If you disagree, tell me in the comments.

Xox

I would add: Humor, Courage, Personality, Selflessness, Honor, Health, Loyalty, Happiness and Sparkle*.
How about you?

xox

*Occasionally I’ll be reprising some of the most popular posts from the past. Today there are actually two. My letter to money, and money’s response.
Enjoy!
XoxJanet

Dear Money,
I know our relationship has felt strained these last few years,
but we’ve always been so close and……..I miss you.
My darling Money……I think we should reconcile.
I know it looks like my life’s been all topsy turvy for a while now, and I seem like a bad risk, but I can assure you, I’ve worked really hard on myself and I’ve grown so much.
I feel like I can meet you half way. 
You must admit, you’ve been very elusive, really playing hard to get.
You barely even show your face, and when you do, I turn around and you’re gone.
That hurts, because I can still remember all the good times we had.
All that crazy spontaneous traveling we did together, remember Italy, with the shopping, and long lunches? 
You were always so there for me. I want to make more of those memories!
We even bought a house together for cryin’ out loud!
I think I showed my commitment to the long haul, what about you?
Sure, I’ve made a few mistakes, but who hasn’t!
We had “it” once and I think we can have “it” again.
That kind of relationship doesn’t just disappear.
My choices may have seemed questionable, but now, if you could just stick around for a while, you’d see how they’re all working out for me.
You’ve said in the past that I’m overly sensitive, but you’re the one who’s stayed away for so long…and without even a goodbye.
I’m willing to forgive, forget and move on…together, hand in hand…like the old days.
Take a few days to think about it…….I know how you are about change.

XoxJanet

Money’s Response
Earlier this month you wrote me a note, expressing your desire to reconcile.
My Darling, I never left you, you lost your faith and trust in ME.
Mistakes were made, c’est la vie!
I’m incapable of holding a grudge, yet, you doubt my devotion.
Believe me when I tell you:
I am here to help you.
I am here to support you in your endeavors.
I am trustworthy.
I can be counted on to show up in your life when needed.
There is more than enough of me to go around.
I’ll never let you down.
I want to help you, help others.
Don’t worry about me, I’m here.

Xox

Earlier this month you wrote me a note, expressing your desire to reconcile. (Dear Money)
My Darling, I never left you, you lost your faith and trust in ME.

Mistakes were made, c’est la vie!
I’m incapable of holding a grudge, yet, you doubt my devotion.
Believe me when I tell you:

I am here to help you.
I am here to support you in your endeavors.
I am trustworthy!
I can be counted on to show up in your life when needed.
There is more than enough of me to go around.
I’ll never let you down.
I want to help you, help others.
Don’t worry about me, I’m here.

• What I realized when writing this is, geez! That sounds like a script from some of the relationships I’ve had with men! I wanted them to say those exact words! I needed the same reassurance.
  I did get that…so there’s hope.
  But did I just replace my distrust of men, with a distrust of money?! It’s true!! I’m having trust issues with money right now. 
  Wow, you never know what’s going to come up when you just get out of the way and write.
  Ha! That’s some deep shit! Stay tuned!

XoxJanet