Percolation

Lately, I’ve been on a personal finance kick. As a part of my life-goal of becoming “Coolest Woman Ever,” I am learning a little bit about how to make my money work for me, and the different high-interest accounts that will earn me cash without requiring me to do anything.

In a similar vein, every day, I break my own record of “most consecutive days lived.” It’s awesome. Like an HSBC Direct account, I don’t have to do anything, and I’m reaching new heights every second! Money in the bank, just by being.

But for all of the living that I am racking up, how many of my days are filled with really “living”? Generally, I feel like my life is a series of unsurprising events: wake up, call my mom, go to work, consume calories, burn calories, do my dishes, go to bed. (Alright, okay, I know – this list should also include other predictable day-to-day activities, like lip-sync to Queen’s “Somebody to Love,” email with strangers on the internet, and compulsively color-code my closet… but who’s really counting?) I am a creature of habit, thriving on routine and predictability. What is written in my calendar is what I do, rarely with any deviance. I am steady, stable, and secure.

And a little bit restless.

These days, I am trying to open myself up to the possibilities that life has to offer. So far, this is proving to be a very extraordinary decision, and most of the time, I feel happy when I have allowed myself to get sidetracked from “the Plan.” I find myself saying “yes” to social engagements more often these days, even when my initial reaction is, “No thanks, I’d rather stay home and blog.” And I am usually pleasantly surprised at the interactions that I have as a result. Today, when I unexpectedly ran into my friend Zach at Caffe Ladro, I spent an unplanned hour and a half hearing about his life, and then sitting in his Volvo to listen to two songs that he’d written. It was a sweet time, and I feel like I know him better now as a result. I don’t really know what I’m doing tomorrow night, and I don’t feel frantic to figure it out. Because I’m pretty sure that when the time comes, I’ll find myself doing something.

In the fall, I will quit my job and hit the road for 4 unprogrammed months. For some odd reason, I am not freaking out about this. In fact, it sounds blissful and adventuresome – to be on the road with only what the Honda will carry, a vagabond in a red dress, funded in part by the money that is miraculously percolating in my savings account.

Seriously. HSBC Direct. Do yourself a favor and check. it. out.