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| Bill Belichick, my hero |
I've been on contact with a travel agent and am in the process of scheduling a vacation. It will be a ludicrously extravagant and expensive vacation, especially since it involves a cold-weather location and I have limited plans at best to take advantage of winter sports. My parents would positively freak if they knew I intended to spend even half the money I intend to spend in order to finance the trip. I fucking don't care.
The check from my broker should be in my hands shortly unless my broker wishes to hear from my attorney (I still have access to one attorney who speaks to me), but that doesn't really matter, as I have lots of access to this wonderful thing known as a credit card. I actually own two of them. I've never used either. Don't worry about me. I understand the importance of paying off the balance monthly. I've been told by my financial advisor that I'm better off using credit cards than using ATM cards for the most part because credit cards offer greater protection in the event of fraud. I've mostly dealt with the issue by carrying cash, but that's really not such a smart idea, either. Nearly all medical students have access to credit. The further one goes toward completion of medical school, the more abundant one's access to credit becomes, as the agencies who finance the credit have a much greater chance of actually recovering any money they loan out to a medical student if the student is nearing completion of medical school.
I've been fortunate. I worked in high school at what would be considered a high-paying job for a high school kid who is not an a-list entertainer. As an accompanist for the various high school vocal ensembles, I was well-compensated. My mother -- probably more out of a sense of loyalty to musicians in general and out of respect for the inborn talent, tutelage, and time it takes to develop the skill level necessary to accompany a group of singers in public competently enough that one never detracts from the singers' performances -- negotiated a sweetheart deal for me. I probably shouldn't say too much about what my hourly wage was, but it was comparable to teachers' rate of overtime pay in our particular district. Teachers' base pay in any given district is based on the number of years they have taught for a district and the level of education they have attained. Their rate of pay for putting in extra time beyond what is contractually required but is still mandated or all but mandated by their districts doesn't typically match the prorated hourly rate of pay they receive for the work done during a regular teaching day. A whole lot of the work teachers do is not done on the clock, and, as such, is not in any way compensated, but if districts require teachers to attend extra inservices and other meetings outside of a regular workday, districts are usually -- depending upon the master contract agreed upon by the teachers and the governing board -- required to compensate the teachers for their time. Depending upon the district, this rate of compensation for overtime is typically either the hourly pro-rated salary of a very beginning teacher on the very lowest rung of a district's salary scale or, occasionally, the hourly prorated mean salary of teachers in the district. A few civilized districts actually compensate each teacher for overtime at his or her regular contractual salary rate, but such districts are few and far between. In any event, the rate of pay I received for playing piano for the vocal ensembles was only pennies less than what teachers were paid for overtime. My mom's
rationale was that I could easily walk away from the job, and she wished the district's music department all the luck in the world in finding a pianist skilled enough to do the job consistently well. Even with a university in our community, the odds were against the district locating a musician of my caliber for the amount of money they would have liked to have paid. University musicians, for one thing, are as often as not notoriously flaky. Did the music department really want to risk having an accompanist no-show an important performance? Furthermore, university musicians, if they're good, also know their worth. They weren't likely to accept any position that paid maybe a dollar above minimum wage. So my mom met with both administration and the music department head to explain the reasons why whatever accompanist was hired -- me or someone else -- needed to be paid at a competitive rate. Piano lessons received throughout one's musical education were not free, nor were the technique books, nor was the instrument needed at home to practice. Furthermore, acquiring the skill of playing piano proficiently requires much practice. Just as educated professionals expect to be paid at a rate commensurate with their level of education, musicians deserve to be paid at a level that takes into account the countless hours of practice that were necessary to acquire a level of skill that would allow a person to serve as a piano accompanist.
The district superintendent suggested that I serve as an accompanist for the privilege of receiving class credit for any period I accompanied, in addition to the idea that I should be serving as an accompanist in the name of school spirit. My mother suggested that the superintendent tear up his monthly five-figure paycheck and work for free in the name of school spirit as well. Predictably, he rejected the idea. I got the salary my mom demanded for me.
In addition to the school job, I earned almost an equal amount by playing piano or organ or occasionally violin for weddings, funerals, church services, and other functions. My parents required that I contribute ten per cent of my total earnings to the charity or charities of my choosing. I was allowed immediate access to ten per cent of the earnings (in which I barely made a dent; I just went through the last of that ten per cent about a month ago.) The remaining eighty per cent was banked in some sort of account that would give me the maximum interest for an investment with very low risk. I didn't work that hard to have all the money disappear in a market bust.
I now have access to that money. I earned enough scholarships to pay for undergraduate education and medical school. Additionally, their are moderately large grants associated with most University of California campuses based on one's competitive standing at graduation. My standing was sufficient to give me access to a grant in the high five-figure range. That one came totally out of the blue. I had no idea that such grants existed. Furthermore, and I don't talk about this much even though there is no confidentiality clause in the final settlement, when I was assaulted in my final year of high school, I received settlements from the school district as well as from those who attacked me. The settlements are structured to some degree -- I couldn't withdraw the entire amount right now -- but I could have used anything I needed for educational expenses, and I can withdraw a minimal amount now for living expenses as well. I'm considering this trip a living expense. The bottom line, though, is that, while I don't want to boast because it's really not something about which to boast, I hold significantly more assets than my average cohort mate holds in debts. I can afford a luxurious trip.
I am appeasing my parents (who don't even know about this trip yet unless they're reading this blog)by staying within the borders of the U.S. Traveling to Canada would probably also be fine in terms of the integrity of the blood supply should it become an issue in the event that I were to require a transfusion, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I will see as much of the Great White North as anyone would ever desire to see in the next few years. I'll stay south of the northern border for this trip.
Some people say Florida is lovely this time of year, but I have no desire whatsoever to go anywhere near there. With my luck, I would get sucked into one of their giant sink holes. Furthermore, there are those with whom I am acquainted (??? Is a fan truly acquainted) who might possibly accuse me of stalking were I to travel to Florida. Since I have no desire to go there anyway, it's an easy call for me to make. The Sunshine State will get by just fine without my tourist dollars. My preceptor's husband wants me to go to east Tennessee. I rank his suggestion right up there with the possibility of traveling to Florida.
Have a nice weekend. Enjoy the Super Bowl if such is your thing. I won't, as I will be working. Someone can tell me about it later. I would record it if I cared that much, but for some reason, it seems anticlimactic to watch a recorded version of the Super Bowl. I don't have any strong stake in who wins. I dislike Tom Brady. I should dislike Bill Belichick because of his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules, but something about the mind games he plays with coaches and members of other teams appeals to me. I have genuine appreciation for the idea that other teams bring their own Gatorade to Patriots' home games because they're so paranoid of what Belichick might do. I don't know if the other teams' personnel just think he'll serve the Gatorade to them too warm or if they actually think he'll have the stuff laced with a harmful substance. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. He has everyone else in the league mind-fucked beyond belief. It's a skill I envy and admire. I want to be Bill Belichick when I grow up.
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| I could travel here . . . |
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| or here . . . |
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or here . . .
Even within the continental U.S., the possibilities are virtually endless.
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