revampin' my budget

A few days ago while at The Anchor I took the time to work on my budget (and, no, I wasn't inspired by Dave Ramsey). I have a tendency to be frivolous when it comes to my money, and a lot of that, I think, is because I don't place a whole lot of value in it. I don't have any sort of "love for money," as some people do, and while that's a good thing, it can be a double-edged sword. With my coffee in one hand and my spreadsheet in the other, I tallied up my bills and expenses over the span of a year and contrasted that with how much I actually make each month through Tazza Mia. I've found that I can live off tips throughout the week (gas, parking, foodstuffs, etc.) and if I don't dig into my paycheck for anything except those bills (and some miscellaneous spending, always gotta budget that), then I can save up about $10,000 over the next year. 

I told the Wisconsinite that while I like Cincinnati, it's not someplace I expect to live forever. Truth be told, I'm a country boy at heart. Although Cincinnati's a pretty "green" city (if you look at it from the air, it looks as if it's wedged into a sweeping forest), I want to be where the tree are large and looming, where the woods are thick, where the roads are barren for miles. I want small town living, something akin to Gilmore Girls, where my Anchor trips become trips to the only diner in town. What struck me so much about Wisconsin was its pristine beauty, the same beauty that grabbed my heart during my internship in the backwoods of Minnesota. Hiking through the Gorge several weeks ago, I felt a certain peace, even the presence of God, amidst the unkempt woodlands. When I sleep at night, I don't want to hear sirens but the crickets, the wind in the trees, the scattered raindrops dappling across the broad-leafed maples.

In a year I can save up $10,000, and that's just staying at Tazza Mia. If I were to stay in Cincinnati another three years, to the ripe old age of 28-29, I could save up about $30,000. If such a time comes and I don't have anything really holding me down here, why not stake out and try living elsewhere? Why not plunge into the countryside, get a job, save up money, buy that nice little cottage with a walk-around porch that I've always dreamed of? I've been fond of saying that my life's been marked by disappointment after disappointment, but even more-so, I see now, it's been marked by the relentless efforts to bring about change. I'm not content sitting on my ass. Resignation, though something that always seems to threaten in my colder hours, isn't something I can invest into. I'm a risk-taker, a dreamer, a man driven by hope. And so I've decided to start saving up money, for maybe one day I can move out into the country, be under the stars, among the woods. I could move north, or to the east coast, or to the west coast, or even up into Alaska, a land that holds my heart in a vice.