It’s Thanksgiving.
I don’t live in the US anymore, but Thanksgiving still holds a special place in my heart.
I miss the festive buzz, the warmth of American families who adopted me every year for 6 straight years, and, of course, stuffing my face with turkey and mashed potatoes for 5 glorious days in a row.
It was delicious.
I’ve learned a lot since my first Black Friday in 2011.
Me and my girl friends rented a cab (because none of us drove) and stuffed it with empty suitcases as tall as our chins.
Destination? Williamsburg Outlet.
We rolled in at Thursday 8pm.
We didn’t leave until noon on Friday.
16 hours of shopping. No sleep.
Just pure, unfiltered consumerism.
I still remember sprinting into Kate Spade to grab a shiny yellow wallet I didn’t need—all because it was 50% off.
50% off!
Tommy Hilfiger, Urban Outfitters, random knick-knacks… If it was discounted, I wanted it. I bought everything like a motherfucker.
And yet, I refused to spend $100 on a new textbook I could’ve used instantly for class.
I’d rather search and haggle on Facebook Marketplace for 30+ hours and end up with a crumbling, secondhand copy—2 weeks after the semester started.
Cute, right?
But here’s the punchline: today, sitting in my London home office, I don’t own a single damn thing from that wild Black Friday.
Not the piles of sweaters.
Not the Kate Spade wallet.
Not the unnecessary “must-haves” I grabbed in a frenzy.
What do I still have?
The lessons from my Economics textbooks that taught me about supply and demand.
The lesson on Coase theorem that shifted my view on government intervention
The timeless wisdom of Rich Dad Poor Dad, teaching me how to value money and see the difference between assets and liabilities.
Unlike all the “stuff,” the lessons have actually stuck with me.
I’m not here to tell any corny lesson to my younger self.
And that’s the thing: if learning was just about information, we’d all be billionaires by now.
You need to stumble, fail, and grow.
Here’s what I look like in 2024:
I’m not the girl chasing discounts anymore.
I now live a minimalist life, investing in things that actually matter.
Here’s what I did spend money on this year:
Plane tickets to China to see my parents and extended family.
A pair of running shoes (because my old ones fell apart after 6 years).
Coaching and courses—mid-high 4 figures—to scale my business:
Writing courses
Business coaching
A paid subscription to a Substack I love
And boy oh boy, didn’t every penny pay off.
Robert Kiyosaki nailed it: accumulate assets, not liabilities.
Piles of clothes? Liability.
A good pair of running shoes? Asset.
Random crap you don’t need? Liability.
Investing in skills that fast-track your growth? Asset.
This year, I’m thankful for myself:
For buying that writing course that taught me how to craft words that sell.
For betting on solopreneurship and creating a life I control.
For investing in coaching that helped me 4x my income.
Most importantly, I’m thankful for myself for putting principles into practice - showing up, failing, learning, and not giving a fuck about what people think.
Your turn:
Tomorrow, I’m offering a special promotion on my paid Substack—packed with bonuses to help you land your dream data role and build the career you want.
It’s only available through Cyber Monday, and I don’t plan to offer it again anytime soon.
Stay tuned—don’t miss it.
Assets or liabilities, you choose.
Here are my absolute best purchases of 2024:
- A good pair of sports shoes
- The book Slow Productivity, by Cal Newport
- My gym membership
- My climbing gym membership
- My desk setup (ergonomic mouse and keyboard plus a good screen)
- 2-day trip to Copenhagen
- 5-day trip to Rome with a city pass to see all the cool stuff
- 14-day trip to Havana to see my family and friends
They are all investments in quality of life.
Thanks Mandy, this type of post is very touching.
Absolutely amazing. I am really trying to avoid the consumerism trap as much as possible. I only buy things that make my life better for at least a year.