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On August 3rd I received $915 from Social Security Disability. This was my money for the month. I was excited about the buy nothing month because I've been overspending since...well, practically forever. My checking account stood at $914.38.
I paid rent and utilities -- $500. I made payments on two personal loans, totaling $300. I made a minimum payment on a department store credit card, put a minimum amount on my medical bills, and put $20 on my bus pass. The automatic withdrawals started coming in: $12 something for Amazon Prime, $1 for my symbolic Patreon support to Erica Barnes, and -- wait I still had to come up with co-pay for a medical appointment. So how much would I save this month? I'd come out of the month owing Kaiser Permanente another $11. Something had to give. I canceled Amazon Prime. I'd be able to save a dollar. Score! But apparently I had also subscribed to extra cloud space on google (.99) and I'm not sure what through iTunes (2.99 came out yesterday). And then last night--grr--I was looking up information on somebody's book and trying to preview it and accidentally hit the "buy" button on my phone because--big thumbs and a wavy brain. That money will be returned--I figured out how to cancel the purchase, but there is a purchase on my account right now. Which means I have a smudge on my record and I won't have done the month perfectly. If I do this again next month, there may be some savings. My loan paybacks won't be as large. I've sold some clothes at a consignment store. But obviously nothing would make me feel better about this demoralizing math except for one thing: almost burning down the house. I'll write about that tomorrow. As I move away from being dependent on the consumer experience and my place as a good capitalist, I find myself more aware of my dependence on relationships, community, family, household, government, friends, neighbors, plants, animals, and the environment.
Case in point: I got a notification today that my amazing partner had taken care of the Ambercon Northwest membership. He has a fund that he uses for dates--we've both put some money into it--but he's put about ten times more in than I have. I don't have to think about the con, worry about details, or keep saving and managing money for it all year only to spend it last minute on clothes, books, teddy bears, fabric I may never use, and 40 vacuum sealing bags that I buy because vacuum-sealing bags are my new favorite thing. I admit it, frankly: I don't manage money well. Hello Wallet tells me I regularly spend 136% of what I deposit. This experiment is forcing me to take another long, hard look at all the little ways I fritter that money away. I am coming to see that having a low income is no excuse. For years I've used the argument that "there's no way to live in Seattle on what I get from disability without revolving debt." Buying nothing takes away that reasoning. Of course I can make it without spending more than what I make. I just have to give up expensive habits, and work on becoming less of an ideal target for any marketing scheme that appeals to a desire for instant escape. My friends' comments to the question about whether I should still carry gift cards as back-ups highlighted some of the fear thatI think is common when embarking on a new adventure.
ideas varied on what kind of safety net or back-up I should have. I identified with many of them, especially those who expressed that you should have some kind of money just as a practical back-up, or in case of emergencies or bad days, or hunger. But I've gone out without any form of money but a bus pass plenty of times. The reality is that I get a disability check of $914 every month, and $92 of food stamps. That's the amount I aim to live within. I haven't been making it, so it's normal for me to get through a few days at the end of the month without spending anything, or at least to spend only the last few quarters and dimes left on a pack of gum. I have a no-fee checking acvount and savings account. They each have less than a dollar in them. So I've had time to develop a strategy and resource net that allows me to travel around the city pretty comfortably without spending anything. And I can't think of any emergency in which money is the most helpful response. Hungry? Carry a Cliff bar in my purse. Carry water. Tired, bored? Spend some time sitting comfortably in public spaces. Take a book. Watch people. I know some downtown buildings that have good sitting areas. If I'm really tired or bored or hungry, I can take a bus back home. In real emergencies, money isn't immediately required anyway. Mugged, assaulted, medical emergencies--what I need in those instances is someone to dial 911 for me, and that usually results in quick help. It has also been my experience that any back-up money usually spends pretty quickly as mundane discomforts suddenly become immediate crises that must be addressed by spending. So. I acknowledge that I'm likely to be uncomfortable sometime this month. And with that, I'm leaving my gift cards home. What prompted the idea that I wanted to go a month without buying anything?
There is something freeing about not having money to buy something. It frees me of the expectation of having to make that decision. I've played with this from time to time -- I taught a class in Experimental College called "How to Go 2 Weeks on Your Last 10 Bucks". That was during the 1990's, a time when I was temping for as long as I could stand it, then taking time off to write for as long as I could. I kept a roof over my head--that was my priority-- but beyond that I didn't take much seriously in the way of expenses. Utilities were usually included in the houses I shared with people. I didn't have medical insurance. Public transportation didn't cost much then, and I was young and healthy and often walked to work if it was less than 2 miles away from wherever I was living. Nile Spice soups were less than a dollar. So was an apple. The money I got from jobs I viewed pretty much as disposable income. I bought books. I had an expensive coffee habit (that I've kept going for the last 20 years). I spent, I didn't track, and if an emergency came up, I trusted the Universe would provide. The Universe (in the form of my parents) often did. What I learned from this period, especially during times of relative poverty between blowing my paycheck and finding another job, is that you can do a lot of things with a paperclip, or a straw. Dinner can be a can of corn eaten over the sink. I always had more than I thought I did. When I was feeling particularly poor or sorry for myself, I would make a list of everything in my room or apartment -- everything I owned. I had notebooks and pens. Art supplies. 32 hair ties. I'd open my kitchen cupboards where I thought I had "nothing to eat" and I'd finally cook the pasta and pour a can of tomatoes over it, or sometimes a can of beans. I was creative and figured out that everything can be re-purposed. I remembered that things can be laundered in a bathroom sink with a couple drops of shampoo. I took scissors to my own hair and the result wasn't as terrifying as I'd thought it would be. I enjoyed the creative challenge that being poor(ish) brought. I didn't need to go to movies -- I had way more unread books than I thought I did. In a pinch, a cup of tea would stave off caffeine withdrawal headaches. Lately, I've been re-doing my room and sorting and organizing all the stuff I've accumulated in 9 years of living in the same place. At the same time, I've noticed a number of things have happened that all lead to wanting to live a simpler lifestyle.
That said, I did a wallet makeover today: I put all money and credit cards aside. My wallet now carries my bus pass, library card, ID, and insurance information. My first dilemma appeared: should I or should I not take out the gift cards? What if I need those Starbucks "rewards" for just in case? (In case of what? Medical emergencies? An overwhelming need for a mocha that cannot be satisfied, and builds for days into homicidal impulses if I can't get whipped cream on top?) My second thought is that it's cleaner and more in line with my original motivations to buy nothing -- and to let go of being a consumer -- if I put them aside too. |
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ArchivesAuthorVirginia Lore enjoys living life as an experiment and frequently steps out of her comfort zone -- when she's not hiding out in her room with the covers over her head that is. You may email her: [email protected] |