Money and Happiness

This is a rare spur of the moment blog post. On this fine Friday night, I have absolutely nothing to do. I'm all caught up on my TV, except for the shows I'm saving to watch with Christina. I took care of some brewing tasks, but those details will be saved for the next Brewblog (spoiler: another sour beer?!) which I guess I could have written right now instead of this--but no!

I'm sitting outside on my patio swing, patiently waiting for my ThermaCell to scare away the mosquitoes, blogging while drinking an amazingly delicious Honey Nut Brown--we made this, you guys!--and enjoying every minute of it. Daisy and Duke are frustrated; I think they just want to go downstairs and relax on the couch, but fuck them.

I've recently realized something profound that I need to blog about. The realization was triggered by a raise at work that bumped me into six figures (one milli--er, no, that's just one hundred thousand...). And it was the following: holy shit, I'm rich! And then: where the hell does all my money go?

Actually, I know very well where all my money is going. I don't know anyone that budgets and records expenses as thoroughly as I do. So this allows me to say with 100% confidence that I have been led astray by the motherfucking American dream for far too long.

Of the five thousands of dollars that are deposited into my bank account every month, a large portion (approximately 35%) goes to my non-voluntary living expenses (mortgage, property taxes, utilities, etc.). That's life. Approximately 10% goes to Christina (down from nearly 20% last year), but that's actually far less than the amount that went to her when she was my wife, so I'm not too annoyed by that. That leaves... hm, let me see... 55%? What? Seriously?

That's a lot of money. But I'm not writing this post to brag about how much money I have. Because I don't have lots of money. More than half of that discretionary spending money is put towards my stupidly large debt every month. Dammit, Past Scott, what were you thinking?

Past Scott was a sucker. He believed capitalism's lies that having stuff will make you happy. "I will take all of my money and buy stuff," Past Scott said, "and then I will be happy." Sadly, happiness still eluded Past Scott. But capitalism had a solution. "I can't quite afford this super awesome stuff right now, but I will pay for it with credit and then I will be happy."

Now Scott wishes he could punch Past Scott in the face. Now Scott knows that buying stuff can not ever make you happy. So, what does make Now Scott happy? Experiences!

I am greatly reducing my spending on stuff. And when I say stuff, I mean consumer goods. I don't need to buy that new Blu-ray movie; I can just pira--er, I mean, rent it through legal means, of course. I don't need a new TV. I don't need a new car. I don't need new anything. I have everything I could ever possibly need when it comes to stuff.

I want to spend my money on experiences. I want to travel. I want to spend time in places that I love. And I want to see places that I've never seen. I want to drink expensive beers that I love. And I want to drink crazy beers that I've never drank. I want to eat expensive foods that I love. And I want to eat crazy foods that I've never eaten. I want to live. Having stuff is not living. Doing stuff is living.

Now Scott is going to live, dammit! And maybe happiness will follow...?