Hair is one of my biggest expenses. I have a friend who is a professional high-talent stylist in a lot of demand. He cuts and colors my hair on a sliding scale, but still $35 or $50 is hard to come up with, even if I am getting a couple hundred dollars with of services. I've enjoyed having expensive hair -- red, blond -- he makes it all subtle and lovely and natural. He's worth a million dollars in my book. But it's still a standing expense that I need to let go of. When I was in my 20's and 30's I cut my hair. I got pretty good at it, but I had just one cut that I did -- a razor-assisted pixie cut (the most forgiving of cuts). Sure, there was that one summer I shaved my head, but I found the maintenance on a shaved head is a LOT of work if you want to make it look good. And I got tired of standing next to bald men who wore it better than I did. So that was an aberration. Anyway, the point is: I'm not scared of cutting my own hair. But maybe I should have been more cautious yesterday. I watched some DIY videos of people cutting their own hair. It looked pretty easy. Make a ponytail of all your hair in front of your face so you can see what you're doing, then chop, then make the edges less distinct by . I decided to do a variation. I made two ponytails -- one of the shorter hair in front, one of the hair in back and on the sides just on top of that. The plan was to do two different cuts -- the first to determine the length on back, and the second to determine the length of the bangs. That was the plan. I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I was impatient. Maybe I was impetuous. I certainly had little impulse control. But I took the (kinda dull) scissors and started hacking away, and somehow I got both pony tails at the same time, and when I shook it out I had a mostly even shape in the back and sides, but the front was mangled. I looked like the 90's-era love child of Mia Farrow and Andy Warhol. I did some more shaping on the sides, and razor-cut everything to blend. The shape isn't bad, but it was still a bit of a mess. So I checked out Timebank. I looked at my profile. I had 8 hours banked. I searched through the database of skills, and yes, there is a local woman who offers free styling as one of the services she'll earn an hour for. I sent a message to her, and within an hour I had an appointment for a clean-up haircut. But lesson learned. There will be mistakes along the way. Always. What is important isn't whether I do anything perfectly or not, but how I can turn to solutions, and think of alternatives to spending money. And if I hadn't had any resources to fix my hair? I'd have adapted to a life of bandanas made from repurposed boxer shorts. There is always a way. Also: it's just hair. It grows back.
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The other day I had to take a bus to DSHS to bring in some paperwork. When I went to pay, the dreaded "insufficient funds" came up on the bus pass reader. I asked for a ride and explained that I had reloaded my pass and I wasn't sure why it wasn't coming up as reloaded. I asked for a ride. The bus driver looked at me a long time, then said "You can do what you want," I started toward the seat. Then he added, "But it's against policy." I stood in the aisle uncertain what to do. I felt ashamed. Then I just sat down.
I made that decision because it had been hard for me to leave the house in the first place. I thought if I went back, I'd probably just spend the rest of the day in my room. So I went on to DSHS. I was a little tearful, but once at DSHS I was able to be calm. I watched some toddlers run around together. I did some deep breathing. The caseworker I worked with had a bunch of DC superheros pinned up on his wall -- we talked DC vs. Marvel. I told him what had happened on the bus, and -- here's the minor miracle -- he told me that it was the first day that they were able to offer limited bus passes to people. He arranged for me to get a bus pass for $10. It's a one-time deal for people receiving food stamps. I was grateful it worked out that way, because it meant I could bus home. At the bus stop I got tearful again, which was not a bad thing, because I scared all the heroin clients and their dealer out of that bus shelter and over to the other one. I felt shame, and anger about feeling shame. I felt tired of being poor. For a few minutes I felt like a victim, rather than someone who had choices. I wanted SO MUCH to walk into Bartell's and get a candy bar. And here's the Big Realization: I've never gone into DSHS without wanting to buy something on the way home. It's the act of purchasing something that makes me feel powerful. I affirm that yes, I'm a good capitalist -- I'm putting something into the economy. I assert that I'm a person, not a disability, not a case. Thinking about that made me stop crying and remember that I am making choices, and I do that every day. And I don't have to buy something to feel powerful. --- I'm going to make a spending plan for September and stick to it. The only thing I know for sure that I wan't to buy is a one-month subscription to Headspace. It's a meditation app. I've done the free meditations consistently for 32 days now, and I'd like to sample the other meditations. But here's the thing: I think that before I buy anything, I'm going to give myself two weeks' notice that I'm going to buy it. Yesterday I stopped and picked blackberries and miner's lettuce for lunch. Both grow wild around here -- alongside suburban streets and city highways, through cracks in alleyways, etc. When people think of foraging, they usually think of being in a forest, near woods, or out in a rural area. But there are many ways to forage for food in and around cities and suburbs too. There's growing stuff on both public and private land, and an amazing amount of perfectly good food is thrown out -- much of it directly, by grocery stores. There are plenty of weeds that are not only edible but delicious, and they can add a substantial amount of nutrition to a simple, frugal diet that might otherwise be too carb-heavy. There are several general pinciples that hold true when you're foraging in the city: learn what plants are edible and what look-alikes are poisonous. Learn where the best fruit trees are neglected/or vegetable gardens gone to pot, and introduce yourself to the gardener or homeowner, asking for permission to pick from the fruit trees (gardens). Some sites recommend also looking for fungi -- there are several delicious mushroom species, but mis-identifying them can be deadly., I don't recommend picking mushrooms unless you are with an expert or are one yourself. Foraging for easily identifiable weeds is fun. Dandelions can be eaten in several seasons -- spring leaves make a salad green with a kick, while summer leaves can be stir fried. In fall and winter, roots can be harvested and roasted to add to coffee, or make a tea of your own. But living plants are only one item that can be hunted down. In a city, a LOT of food is thrown away. I mean, a lot! In the US, 40% of food doesn't even make it to the table -- it just goes to landfill. A family of four throws away $1,345 to $2,275 of food each year, according to the National Resources Defense Council. It's just starting to be a topic on the plate of big city governments -- how to avoid food waste. So there are initiatives under way to get food onto the tables of hungry tables. One way to get some of this food is to ask for it. If you're short of money and need food to get through the month, a local food bank can be a great way to get through a crisis. You can always volunteer or donate later if you feel awkward about it. But another way is to go dumpster diving. Dumpster diving isn't for everyone, and there are whole sites about how to do it safely. It's astounding what gets thrown away. While most of the major chains have resorted to locking their waste bins, one can sometimes scout out an understanding local restaurant owner or manager who can be of big help. We have a local pizza joint, for example, that throws away any mistakenly-ordered or rejected or not-picked-up pizza. It seems to happen a lot, as the dumpster can have several whole pizzas in it on any given day. While admittedly, it can be disgusting to root about in garbage, this restaurant stacks its uneaten pizzas covered in boxes in a single corner in the dumpster. As long as you are discrete and don't make a mess or a scene, you can find and collect a pizza for your day's meals. Dumpster diving laws vary from locale to locale, so it's as important to be aware of what they are as it is to be able to identify your local weeds if you're interested in collecting food. There are also important etiquette and safety tips involved. I recommend Rob Greenfield's excellent site for more information. Lastly there is the idea of foraging in your own kitchen. That's what I've done a lot of this month, and I plan to do more. A couple of years ago, we bought 25 lbs of bulgar wheat and we never got it all ground or cooked. Inventory what you have on hand. You might surprise yourself with how many days you can survive what's in your cupboards, fridge, pantry and (in our case) garage.
(PS: As of 3 minutes ago: Item(s) Returned: 1001 Life Hacks for 2017: Incredible and interesting things and tips that will change your life Kindle Edition Sold by Amazon Digital Services LLC Item Refund: $2.99 Item Tax Refund: $0.30 Refund Total: $3.29 ............................................................................ 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] |