We refuse to acknowledge we're insane.

L and I had a long discussion on my birthday. (34 yuck) It stemmed form being in debt. For a little over five years now, we've been trying to get back in the black. It's been a war with our credit card. We've fought long and hard. The tide has changed many times. This year the goal of being debt free was but a tax return within reach. Then her car broke and we spent too much on Christmas and Thanksgiving and taxes and insurance and bla bla bla. So here we are again, in debt hell, desperately trying to climb our way out. Granted, we are our own worst enemy. Which is really what the discussion was about.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If that's the case, we're both certifiable. We're making the same promise, again, this year.

We will not go on any expensive trips or make any large purchases until such time as our debt is paid in full and we have the cash to do so.

Sounds easy right? Not when all your friends make over twice as much money as you do and are always inviting you to do fun, interesting and expensive things every few months or so. Our problem is we have just enough money to do these things and it's hard to say "no" to long weekends in Florida, Vegas, Tunica, Biloxi, Mexico, The Bahamas and other places where the living is warm or slots go ding. So we've made this promise for the last three years and failed miserably each and every one. What makes the promise so different this year? We've come up with the answer as to why we're having this problem.

It occurred to us, after we literally dodged Roman candles on a muddy farm in Georgia to ring in the new year, that we have been too complacent at living our own lives. It's like waking up in some one else's' dream. What the hell were we doing at a party where we were the only two people who had a full set of teeth? (OK it wasn't that bad, but it felt like it.) We're the types who like to ring in the year in fancy clothes and kiss as balloons fall at midnight. This is just not where we belong on new years eve. What's happened to us? How did two hard rockers who can barely tolerate country music end up among the cast of The Blue Collar comedy Tour on the biggest party night of the year?

It struck us like a locomotive as we sat motionless on the couch on the 2nd day of the year. We've been letting our current batch of friends dictate what we do. Back in the not so distant past, we used to make our own fun. It seems, since we've been in Georgia, that our friends have been the only source of our fun times. We wait for our friends to invite us to do something. We never go out and make our own fun anymore. We're always the invitees and never the inviters. So our richer friends plan vacations and huge activities and we either have to say "no" or "Fuck it! Lets go!" The problem is whenever we say the latter, we put ourselves further behind by keeping up with the Jones'. When the fun is over, we feel guilt and put ourselves back into "pay off the debt" mode. We restrict ourselves so much that we feel guilt for just going out to eat or taking in a movie and therefore we don't plan anything else because we think we can't afford it. We pinch ourselves down and keep our noses to the grindstone until we get another invite and say "Fuck it!" Then the whole cycle starts all over again. In an effort to reestablish our own personalities, we're not only dead set against being talked into big trips but also committed to entertain ourselves in small ways so we don't go nuts and need a break from the tedium of regular life.

To be fair, redneck parties can be fun and the food was actually quite good on Dec 31st, but we were just out of our element on a day we consider more special than it was. We had no one to blame but ourselves for not making our own plans. So starting a few days ago we're going to activate our own schedule and do our own things to reclaim our identities and our sanity.