But I am a baller.
I don’t talk about what I actually do for my studies basically ever because I always complain that I don’t like it, but the other day, something weird happened. I actually liked what I am studying.
I study finance by the way.
So as dull as that may sound to others, for me, I’ve spent the last four years learning the intricacies of the stock market, stock exchange, international finance, risk diversification, and a whole list of other terms that could bore you to tears, as it has done for me many times.
But, I am on cloud nine because I had an assignment to do a crazy amount of research and recommend a stock for a real portfolio with hella money in it and my recommendation was picked up and it is making a killer return. In layman’s terms, we paid a little bit for it and now the stock is selling for a way higher price, so the portfolio is growing by the difference in the ending amount ($85) minus the first amount ($65). We’re making about $20 more per share than what we paid.
So, I mean, way to go to that company that I recommended, but really, way to go me. My intuition is strong. I’m a baller. I make mad money. I order strippers during my lunch break. I wear fedoras, have a cane and my pimp hand is so strong.
Don’t f*ck with me today. I’m the mothaf*cking wolf of Wall Street.
What is your biggest insecurity?
Insecurities are a tough thing to talk about. We all have them, but when it’s something that we suffer from, we don’t want to bring it to the attention of other people and shine light on it when we are trying to forget or hide the flaw from ourselves.
I have major internal conflicts every other week about the fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing with my life and that I don’t have a set plan yet.
I have insecurities about outward appearance. Being a 21 year old female in a college setting, it’s hard not to compare myself to the people around me. It’s hard not to say, oh if only my hips were a little more slim, or if only my skin were a little more clear.
But then I have to step back and think about, do these things bother me or do they bother me because I think that it’s how I “should” appear based on popular society’s opinion on beauty in women my age?
I am a beautiful girl with a complex and witty personality. Sure, I may not always feel like I meet some star dad of physical beauty, but I know that I can set my own standard. If I am happy with myself and who I am, to hell with the opinion of others.
I feel fortunate that I am able to say these things, because not everyone can win their battle with body confidence. Not everyone can love the skin that their in. But there are organizations out there aimed at helping these people see their own beauty. There are people who want to help them thrive and understand that these blockades and walls that we put up internally, they can be knocked down. The National Organization for Anorexia Nervosa and Associated disorders is one of those organizations. I strongly encourage everyone, whether you suffer with issues in body confidence or eating disorders or you don’t, support this organization. Help save lives. Help spread the word that we are all beautiful, no matter what.
Check out ANAD’s webpage here: http://www.anad.org
Questions, comments, concerns? Place them in my anonymous ask box: http://ask.fm/mazforthefanz
Hi, you suck,
You don’t actually. But I like to put you in your place from time to time. It just serves the purpose that I am in charge and have established dominance. I also know that you laughed at that, which is just another reason why I’m in charge of this situation.
You were the first boy that I truly loved outside of a familial tie. And don’t get crazy homie. I ain’t in love with you. I just love you, and yes there’s a difference, even though I’m sure that you’d love to argue that. Just shut it down now, there is a difference.
You’re the boy that I’ll marry when I’m 65, lived a whole life, had kids, became a widow and forgot what it’s like to talk to anyone besides cats. I’ll need company and I can put up with you extendedly. We do have a marriage pact, but I think we’re both way too hot of commodities to not be off the market by 30ish, so I won’t be Julia Roberts and you won’t be Nick Nolte. We won’t sing “I Say A Little Prayer for You”. I also know that you don’t understand that reference AT ALL, which is just one more thing that makes this work. I can tell you all the obscure movie references and you’ll tell me about all of the really great music you’ve been listening to, even if I think it’s sh*t at first.
You were the easiest love letter to write this week, because even though I don’t see you even nearly as often as I wish, I know that you’re always a phone call, text or FaceTime away. I know that if I need you for dumb advice in the middle of the drunken night, you give it to me straight, even though you know I probably will still make a stupid choice anyway. And you don’t judge me in the aftermath.
You are that best friend that time doesn’t erode. We can brush our teeth together and share your roommate’s face wash and still not be sick of each other immeadiatiately, shockingly.
I love you. Plain and simple. No strings attached, you know that I’m here at any single point that you may need me.
I’ll Try My Best, How Much Do I Invest?
Hi, hey, hello,
How’ve ya been? Good? Good. That’s good.
That’s really good. And I mean that. I actually love that you’re happy. I love that you’re in a good place and that you are smiling and that it has nothing to do with me.
I’ve waited for the day that this would make me happy and not jealous. And it finally has.
I haven’t forgotten what I felt with and about you and I sometimes have moments where I wonder if those feelings will ever go away. I hope that they don’t. Because I don’t want to forget that happy girl on the hill as the sunset. I don’t want to forget the laughter bouncing off of the steps of the statue. Or the sense of wonder felt exploring the market for the first time. I have no desire to forget that or you.
And I know that I don’t need to forget or diminish in order to feel that same level of happiness elsewhere. I can still hold those moments closely, but still feel the happiness of the moments that I live here and now. And I think that’s why I’m not jealous anymore, because I know that you can do the same.
I’m glad that you’re happy and I hope that you’re glad that I am too,
Hi! I’m sorry I went AWOL last week, I had the flu and couldn’t determine up from down, let alone write anything worth while. So, we interrupt our normal Ask Maz Monday programming to give you what was promised last week, which were “love” letters; so without furtherer ado, Love Letter #1:
I have to admit that I was a little surprised when I got your text. I was a little surprised that one) I was hearing from you and two) you weren’t being a total d*uchebag. Actually, change that little surprise to shocked. I was shocked.
I was a little excited, because let’s face it, you’re hot. But then I remembered how you treated me. And before I replied with, “hey! I’m good, how have you been? We should catch up some time!” I stepped away, took a picture of the trashcan in my kitchen and sent it with the caption: “this reminded me of you.”
Just because you have a pretty face, doesn’t mean you can treat a person the way that you did and then expect to come back whenever you’re bored or between flings. It doesn’t work like that. I’m too busy for the games you play and I respect myself far too much than to allow myself to be the second choice. So next time you think about texting me, unless it’s an apology and a 15 step plan of how you’ve changed and intend to be better, you can politely f*ck off.
Have a great V-Day, hope you get VD,
I am really a non-confrontational person, but when I hear that you are talking sh*t about me behind my back, it makes me feel even more sorry for you.
I’m sorry that I am not 15 years old and in high school anymore. Your words mean even less when I hear them from other people. If you have a problem with me, talk to me. We’re all adults here. Tell me about it. I’m sick of all the pettiness, avoid me, tell this person, whisper down the lane.
I really cannot be bothered with you as a human, and really couldn’t care less if you like me, dislike me, poke a voodoo doll of me with pins. I. Don’t. Care.
But just know, your pettiness reflects your character, not mine.
What is something you wish you were better at?
I’m pretty great at a lot of things, as most people are. But, of course there are things that I wish that I was a little better at doing.
While I love how sassy and sarcastic I can be, I really wish that I was better at expressing emotion in a way that truly displays how I feel. I’m funny, but sometimes my funniness leads to dishonesty about what is really going on in my head. I feel like I am really good at detecting this is other people. I can normally see the emotions in someone’s face or eyes, even if they are cracking a joke and call them out on it. I like to call that my emotional intelligence with other people. But, my own capability of hiding that, leads to a lot of bottled up frustration, which leads to overthinking and ultimately, when the emotions do seep through, it’s in a very big way. It happens very rarely, but when it does, it’s almost nearly the end of the world, each time.
So, I guess, I’d like to get better at handling the ups and downs at a steady pace as opposed to handling the total fallout every once in a while.
Questions, comments, concerns? Place them in my anonymous ask box: http://ask.fm/mazforthefanz