The Milla Times Journal

because of my job in the wide world of finance, people sometimes assume that i have insight into where the market is going. they think that i might know what makes for a good investment, one that will surely make their riches grow overnight. they think that financial knowledge is transferred through osmosis, maybe by sitting on the same toilet seat as an investment analyst, and that even the janitor who works the night shift probably has some good stock tips. to that i usually reply, “are you fucking stupid?”

if i had those answers, i certainly wouldn’t still be working. i’d be retired, lounging with my off-shore accounts in tahiti while a cabana boy with soccer thighs peeled me grapes and fanned my pasty skin. if i had those answers, i wouldn’t be sitting in a cube farm, pretending to work between youtube videos while counting down the minutes until the clock hits 5pm.

so please stop bothering me with your money questions because i don’t know of any secret investments that will make you a millionaire. and please stop asking me what i do with my own money because i barely have any — i just bought a house, remember? plus, i wouldn’t want to give you any bad financial advice and then feel responsible for your life savings going down the drain. so quit asking me, mom and dad!!

but seriously, i don’t know what the hell is going on anymore than the next person despite my job in finance. but because of my job in finance, i do know that all investments carry a certain degree of risk. i know this because my new role in my company’s compliance department centers on ensuring that the fine print no one but me reads on financial documents says what it needs to say. and if you ever bother to read it, you’d be shocked to find out that it reads, “All investments carry a certain degree of risk. You may lose money.”

ok, so you may lose money. you probably have lost money. i know i have, but since i’m not planning to retire anytime soon, those losses seem more imaginary than real. sadly, i have also lost money on some shorter-term investments i had, losses that very much feel real, but staring at risk language all day helped cushion that blow.

still, i’m not worried. i’m not particularly euphoric either, but i’ve promised myself that i won’t worry until i have a reason to. and as long as i still have a job, i don’t have a reason to worry. of course, i’d be silly to say that my job is totally secure in this climate — or any climate really. but i’ll take comfort in my boss’ assurance that my new spot in the compliance department means i’m a regulator now, and regulators are the new black. people actually want us around to piss on their parade.

as for the lost money, i’m going to rely on that old cliche that if you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. no, that sucks. maybe evaporated earnings are like spilled milk - not worth crying over. that’s a bit better. better still is that all investments carry a certain degree of risk, so you may lose money. and i did.

Labels: money

• the household: i received a rather pricey bill from the County of Los Angeles last month, called a “supplemental tax bill” (since property taxes don’t tax homeowners enough). the bill unsettled me — particularly its amount — so i paid a visit to the tax assessor’s office to get a few questions answered. after standing in three different lines in various offices, talking to countless people who couldn’t help me, a not-on-break employee finally noticed that the bill was not prorated as it should have been but instead was billed at the full amount for the fiscal year, meaning i was being taxed for a time period when the bank who repoed the house owned the house. County assured me it would repair the mistake and i would get a new bill in the mail for just my portion.
  
  a few weeks later, i received the new supplemental tax bill in the mail. the bill was for the same amount as before but now included a refund check that covered the bank’s portion. i called the County and asked what happened? “the refund is to help you pay your bill,” they told me. “why didn’t you just deduct the amount of the refund from the total?” i asked. “because that’s not how we do things.”



• that earthquake: in case you missed it, LA was rattled by a 5.4 a few weeks back. i was at work when it happened, on the 33rd floor of a downtown highrise, talking to a coworker in New York when the trembling started. when i’m faced with frustrating, frightening situations, my impulse is to start swearing like a goddamn cocksucking motherfucker, so that’s what i did — while on the phone with a virtual stranger. “fuck, shit, goddamn motherfucker. it’s an earthquake happening. I NEED TO CALL YOU BACK!!” then i dove under my desk and stayed there until the shaking subsided. first call went to Mo, who’s stationed at home during the day, “how’s the house???” Mo said house was fine, held up well. we hung up a moment later and i realized i forgot to ask him how he and the dogs held up. fuck.



• those Olympics: at first, i was resigned not to watch them because i knew that watching them would mean becoming obsessed with them. now that i’m obsessed, i’ve become slightly depressed over the fact that these young athletes have accomplished more in their short lives than i ever will with the remainder of mine. i used to think that being a rock star was the greatest profession on earth because it meant never having to get up early, but now i’m convinced that being an athlete is the way to go, because even though athletes need to rise early, they get to eat a lot and spend their days popping off endorphins. i’m also convinced that i will marry Michael Phelps.



• the day Juice went missing: i swore far more that day than i did the day of the earthquake. but yes, there was a day the other week when Juice got out and got gone. she was found an hour later a block away with some kind neighbors who took her in, but fucking hell, that hour Mo and i spent scouring the streets looking for her was the shittiest hour of my life. i actually held it together quite well until the moment i saw her again, at which point i started bawling like an asshole, at which point she started licking my face. i spent the rest of the day in such a state, my only relief lying on the floor cuddling with both dogs while my heart tried to reconstitute itself.

Labels: dogliness, home, money

as i tell friends that i’m interested in buying a place, i’m often met with a look that seems to say, “damn, girl, i didn’t realize you made THAT much money!” truth is i don’t make THAT much money. in fact, i barely make THIS much money. and, as counterintuitive as it may seem, my lack of money is the one thing that will make homeownership affordable for me.

pretty much all the first-time homebuyer guides i read through in preparation for this quest said the same thing: check with your state’s housing authority, which provides great incentives for first-timers, to find your mortgage. so i checked and wow — down-payment assistance, gap financing, deferred junior loans and, the deal-sealant, a 40-year fixed mortgage at a below-market rate. and in this ridiculously wealthy county of Los Angeles, my salary places me in the low/moderate income bracket, meaning i qualify.

though that’s not the same as prequalifying for the loan, which can only be achieved through mondo paperwork and a thorough credit check. for my appointment with the mortgage broker specializing in these ghetto loans, i came equipped with documents galore: three years worth of W-2s, tax documents filed with the IRS, pay stubs, IRA account statements, quarterly statements for my investments, checking and savings account documentation, my passport and any other outstanding loan or asset documentation i could provide. then came a blood test, a urine test and a hearing exam, followed by the inner-ear culture, pap smear and rectal swab — concluding with a quiz on Rorschach inkblots.

and then something weird happened. “uh oh,” said the mortgage broker while looking at her computer screen. immediately i froze because nothing is more frightening than hearing “uh oh” from someone about to loan you a bunch of money. “uh oh?” i asked cautiously while trying to clear the quiver out of my throat.

“well,” she began, “part of your mortgage is provided by the state of California and the other part is taken care of by the city of Los Angeles, and it looks like the city ran out of money.” ghetto indeed.

of course the city-sponsored part of my mortgage is the good part — the zero-interest, deferred junior loan, gap financing portion that i only need to repay once the principal mortgage supplied by the state is paid off (in 40 years!), meaning i need that city money BAD. that’s the part that really gives me “purchasing power,” mortgage broker said.

she also said the fund would be replenished by the government, eventually, and that i would need to wait. ok, so now i wait through a subprime mortgage meltdown for the government to pour money into a depleted fund set aside for low-income homebuyers. yeah, i’m sure that’s a real high priority right now.

but wait i will, as i simply have no other choice. mortgage broker assures me it won’t take more than a few months for the new funding to come in, despite her admission that she’s never known this to happen before. in the meantime, i would be put on the wait list, which, yes, is already lengthy.

Labels: house hunt, money

boo-hoo. poor me, poor me.

alright, i got the requisite whining out and over with. i am bummed, however. i spent the past five weeks working at a place i really loved with people i really liked doing something that was really interesting. i wanted it to continue, got one extension, but alas, i was a measly vacation relief temp and they are once again fully staffed, so my presence wasn't necessary or justifiable. so i was sprung out again, with no promises on when/if i would be called back.

i think i might be called back, but the when part is the problem. and herein lies my dilemma: do i try to find temp stuff to float me in the here and now while i wait for that phone call from my dream job that may never come? or do i just suck it up and start hunting for full-time, permanent employment elsewhere?

obviously, when it comes to job and financial security, the known is better than the unknown. and this very successful media outlet i was temping for -- a place i've loved and respected for years -- is notorious for keeping temps in limbo for years before offering them permanent employment. they know there's a long line at the door; they know only the strong and hungry survive. and here i am with my foot (finally) in the door -- how can i walk away? it won't happen now for me, but maybe eventually. but maybe not. is it worth the gamble?

i'm really not sure, and this quandary has been consuming me for a good month now. it might not be so bad if i could find steady temp stuff that i could just slip away from whenever dream job wanted me back, though that would leave me at their beck and call. i would basically be their bitch. that might be okay with me in the short term, but again, the unreliability of it all, the thinning savings account, the fact that the first student loan bill arrives in november. yet on the other hand, the fact that it's my dream job, a place i've always wanted to work, a best-case scenario that can't be beat, provided things work out in my favor (which they generally don't).

advice?

Labels: money

seriously, though, if Bill Gates is reading this, can you please send me some money? i mean, you probably won't miss it at all given that you're a kazillionaire. and we're not talking THAT much, maybe 10K or 20K, which i can stretch out until i become gainfully employed. is that so unreasonable?

july has been a total wash workwise. no inputting of funds, only output. i've been trying to keep all expenditures at a minimum -- which is challenging, given my party lifestyle. the dorks in culver city i usually work with once a month suddenly had no july budget for me, so there went my greatest chunk of monthly cash. i would often supplement that with the odd copy-editing job found on craigslist, but nope, none of those seem to be working out either. so i've just been dipping into my pathetic little savings account, promising myself that i'll replenish it once the work starts flowing again.

but it makes me nervous. i hate being broke. i pinch pennies, complain about money, eyeball the price of everything. i feel like a punk. i'm not usually a tightwad, despite being jewish. so i've been busy trying to sell my useless shit on craigslist for a bit of extra cash. i sold the never-used doghouse that i was sure juice would love. she was terrified of the thing, never once stepped into it, even after i threw her blanket and countless biscuits into it. and i have someone buying up all the unopened alcohol that was left over from my bday party. i've also lined up an odd job teaching some lady QuarkXpress for a few hours. might have a few other odd jobs lined up for july, as i've gone on a few interviews.

but otherwise, nada, zip, zilch on the dough front. damn, i miss those monthly stipend checks USC used to send me. i would get $1,600 a month just for being a great student -- which, i was, kids: 3.75 GPA upon graduation. isn't there some kind of lifetime scholarship someone can win just for being a great human being? not that i would necessarily qualify, but still.

the good news is that august should hold nothing but work, work, work. i've got a temporary office job lined up for the first three weeks of the month, which is fabulous except for the hours: a ghastly 6am-3pm. and on some afternoons, i'll likely have to skedaddle to culver city to work with aforementioned dorks, who've said they'll need me again next month. ah, nothing like a 12-hour workday to remind you you're alive.

but in the meantime, i've had plenty of idle time to waste. my big purchase for july was an external hard-drive (80 gigs, baby!) for this here iBook, which was becoming ridiculously slow -- like, dial-up slow. so i shifted some stuff around and have been working on importing my 300 CDs into iTunes, which i will hook up to some phat speakers once i get the money to buy them. i've also been spending mornings at runyon canyon park, doing free yoga and going on hikes. afternoons usually hold a long, lazy shower; some homemade grub and coffee; and then lying down with a good book, often in the hammock justin (aka yogaman) kindly bought me for my birthday. evenings generally hold QT with justin on the cheap -- home-cooked dinners, a DVD rental and/or game of scrabble or rummikub. nighttime consists of...well, you can imagine...and then a relaxing sleep. all to be repeated at 9 am when my alarm goes off.

ok, so life's not so bad after all.

Labels: money