Occupy Yourself

Occupy Wall Street has me thinking and doing. I opened up checking and savings accounts at a local credit union on Friday. As soon as my shiny new debit card arrives it's switcharoo time. Buh bye Chase.

I liked the "convenience" of countrywide ATMs and a smartphone app. I don't need it. I need to be accountable and plan ahead.

Chase charges me fees on top of the fees I'm charged by the non-Chase ATM. On average, I use a non-Chase ATM once a month accruing at least $5 in fees per month. It's only $60 per year, but still, that's MY sixty bucks. Who am I kidding, that's my ONE HUNDRED bucks per year since I like to go to Vegas and never seem to bring enough cash.

I have two credit cards through Chase. The Wedding is taking a good bite out of my credit cards. I reserved the ceremony and reception sites on my card. I put down a deposit on a DJ on my card. I bought my dress on my card (mom paid me back over 1/2 of that yaythxmom!). I've reserved our hotel rooms on my card. And soon I'll be purchasing flights to and all over South America on that card.

Being a planner and (self-proclaimed) DIY finance gal, I thought I'd set up automatic weekly payments to pay down the debt. Chase has other plans. One's only options for automatic payments are to pay the full balance or minimum payment on the payment due date. I'm hacking this by setting a Google Calendar reminder to pay $100 every Friday to my Chase card.  However, I'm human, and still have free will and choice and can (will?) choose to snooze the calendar reminder, "forgetting" to pay. At least a few times a month.

The banks have us over a barrel. We only have ourselves to blame. Why do I have three credit cards? Why is there a balance on all three??

I've lived in Orange County for most of my time here in Southern California. I'm not an OC type of gal. I don't keep my hair unnaturally blonde and straight, have fake nails, high heels, a latte or botox habit, aftermarket breasts and a Beemer. I'm a mover. I break leases, pay high deposits and hire moving trucks to chase after the next apartment or house. I give myself "mobility" with cash advances.

Ugh. My heart squeezes to type this. I'm so embarrassed.

I'm still paying for that cute house with the big yard, that cottage with the granny garden, our first apartment and now the beach triplex with the unheard of yard.

I'm guilty. I'm part of this machine. The Wedding industry. Credit Cards. Minimum Payments. Consumerism.

I'll be OK. I've identified where I've gone wrong. That's the first step. I'm part of the 99%.

Listening to:
2 Chainz - Spend It

Reading:
www.knowmore.org
James Altucher - I Was Blind But Now I See

Watching:
Football
Foodmatters

Consuming:
Tofu Scramble
Apple/Ginger/Lemon/Chia Seed juice
Lots of vitamins

What's in a Name?

I've racked my brain for three days to come up with this blog name. Only to come up with MY name.

I've gone by Abby my entire life, though Abigail is my given name. With the last name Schimenek, I didn't want to confuse people further by using my full first name. So Minnesota-Nice of me eh?

Most shopgirls won't attempt my name in the usual "thank you Ms. Schimenek" as they hand over my purchases. Abigail Schimenek looks like a foreign language to some people, so they won't even say it. Like when you're at an ethnic restaurant and you point to the dish you want on the menu or call it by its English name. Pollo becomes Chicken. Fromage becomes Cheese Plate. Abigail and Abby frequently become Amber, Amy and Ashley.

Sidenote: I used to love staying at the La Fuenta Inn in Yuma, AZ because the girls at the desk would greet me with "Hi Uh-Bee-Guy-Elle!" My name sounds so singsongy in a Spanish accent.

My future last name is a lot shorter and simpler, and it sounds silly paired with Abby. To my ear. Abby Ferri. Say it out loud like a Valley Girl. Abby Ferri. I'll give you a second. Ab-by Fer-ri.

I was right, right? So, I'm getting myself used to my given name of Abigail. At least in print.
Abigail Ferri.

But please, call me Abby.