Seven days

First of all: go Bruins.
Second of all: fuck mainstream society.
Had a rather brilliant dinner with L tonight and I have such amazing friends for equally amazing reasons.  I love that she is doing the "alternative revenue stream" thing.  Most people think that they are going to make their money at their jobs.  My dad knew this wasn't the case and I think he was out of the 9 to 5 before he was 30.
I'm a laggard.
Unfortunately I'm also fiscally conservative so, while I understand that you're not going to get rich or retire early at your career; I'm too chicken shit to wager any money on another venture.
However, it was good to bandy about possible ventures as we did tonight, and it was a great exercise to learn to think outside the financial box.
That said: no more portfolio managers.  MERs will kill you.  Unless you're beating the market?  You're getting shafted because you're paying your guy to "manage" your funds at 1 or 2% a year.
Some years ago (late nineties?) one of the financial advisors that Michael pays heed to said that if your financial manager hadn't told you to sell at that time (before the crash)?  You ought to fire them.
Mine didn't tell me to sell.
Michael (self educated) sold, and bought low, and reaped.
What the fuck am I paying MERs for?  I'm not a stupid girl.  I've made one stock purchase in my life, and currently I've made a 48% return in perhaps a year.  Not too shabby.  You can learn to do stuff on your own.
Anyways, this year is sort of wide open.  I know I'm going to travel.  If I have some time maybe I'll work on my "book".  I think I will sleep a lot.  I'm going to have epic shit fits over the money flowing out of my bank account, but I will travel and have experiences in life that a lot of people will never have.
And I will try and find alternative revenue streams.
"Jump."
"How high?"
I can't do that too much longer and surely there are other revenue sources out there that bear investigation.
I'm thankful for tonight's dinner because I didn't realize how complacent I'd become.  How reliant on a paycheque.
Maybe I'll come up with nothing in my year off.  But maybe I'll come up with something that means that I can wear duck boots and cutoff jeans and create my own life as best as I see fit without having to answer to someone else.