There is nothing wrong with the word "budget" in its purest form. Merriam-Webster defines it as "a plan of coordination of resources and expenditures" and as a "statement of the financial position" of an entity. I have no problem with that, right? It's a good thing to be able to take stock of what you have and what you need and design a way to make sure the lights don't go off. Culturally, however, the word "budget" has negative connotations. It is something one "goes on" (or worse, is "put on") when one is in dire straights. In our fundamentally Puritanical culture, if one "has to go on a budget", it's generally after someone has done something irresponsible or stupid with money. One "lives within" a budget like an invisible cage. Budgets crunch and squeeze. Movie producers are said to "run over budget" when they've spent too much, meaning that the movie is now in debt to what it might be able to generate in revenue. One has "champagne tastes" but a "beer budget," meaning that what one truly wants is probably beyond the ability of that person to get it. One lives on a "shoestring budget" when one is "as poor as a church mouse". Over generations, the "budget" has taken on layers of meaning that use disempowering language about the person who has one. Enter the Spending Plan. A spending plan puts the power back in your hands. Where a personal budget is often experienced as a reaction to a resource crisis, a spending plan is proactive. Where a budget is seen as restrictive, a spending plan is seen as flexible. Where a budget starts with needs, a spending plan starts with values. In a budget, needs come first. In a spending plan, you decide your priorities. You start with your resources, not with your bills. A budget reflects a scarcity mentality, while a spending plan starts with abundance. To many, the difference between a budget and a spending plan is as different as saying "I can't" instead of "I choose not to." This was my understanding when I sat down to create my spending plan. I've been thinking a lot about it. I want to live simply, but I also want to make sure that I can have what I want and need, and that I don't forget all the fun stuff in the midst of making sure my needs are met. What is most fun to me? What have I missed the most while spending nothing? Mostly just those mornings I can leave the house, head out into the city, and find a good cup of coffee somewhere. I wanted to make sure that any spending plan I had allowed for enough to do that, so I created a "discretionary fund" category. I don't need to spend money just for fun, but I might like to go into a thrift shop or a used book store now and then. Or I might want to give $5 to Mary's Place or a food bank. So the first thing I did was to say "I want to have $10/week to spend" and make sure that particular priority came first. A second priority was to start saving. I'm 51, and while I'm actually already retired, I'm one disaster away from living in the streets. So saving became the second thing on my spending plan. There are three things I want to save for: an Emergency Fund, a Retirement Fund, and a Purple Mattress. I've worked out a savings plan that will have me buying one by December of 2018. Sooner if I find enough money on the sidewalk to add to the fund. By December, I'll know if my housemate Sam's bed is still as comfortable as it is now (Heaven!). If not, I'll have a good chunk of money saved to find something better. In my spending plan, I'm also starting to allocate money to retirement. That won't start until after the new year, but it is a long-term goal, and as I pay down other debts, the money becomes available for a retirement fund. As above, about 22% of my income will go to savings eventually. The next thing I want to spend money on is "self-care". That's a category that covers everything from rent to the occasional counseling session. That's where I put the things that make my life easier: a bus pass, food. The occasional massage or hair cut. And then, my decision: to pay off the bills that I owe money on. It feels good to me to be able to pay down what I owe. The spending plan I came up with today. I planned not just for one month, but for several months in the future, and I could see how things would crystallize down the line. By December of 2019, I could have an Emergency Fund of 3 months worth of expenses, and a retirement account that I put $250 into every month. This spending plan is the culmination of what I'm learning in this Buy Nothing Month. This month has given me freedom and clarity, and I plan to do a Buy Nothing Month every third month to get a better grounding in this lifestyle and in being less dependent on capitalism. Do your spending priorities match your values?
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Buy Nothing Month, Day 23. I'm getting there! It's been over three weeks now without buying anything. I wonder how long I could keep up a streak of not buying anything? Just to the end of the month? Another week or month beyond that? Maybe a whole year, as Lee Simpson did? For an unlimited period of time? I wonder what it would take for me to really take on Buy Nothing as a lifestyle, a decades-long habit, rather than a time-limited challenge?
And how could I do that living in the city? While looking presentable, or nay, even elegant? I wonder. Because a month of buying nothing -- that's an adventure. A year may be an education. But a lifetime of not buying things, other than basics, groceries, transportation...what would that look like? Would I become a run-down looking spinster with permanent worry lines and rags for clothing? Or, in a country like the United States, would stuff just keep flowing into and out of my life? I'd like to find out. But I'd also like to buy this book. Or hey -- it occurs to me that if Seattle Public Library doesn't have it, I can request it from Inter Library Loan. If I did adopt this as a lifestyle, what other kinds of resources would I need? Obviously, household sundries, the occasional cleaning supply -- I'd include those as groceries. What is it that I miss spending money on the most? Easy. Coffee, out in the world. I'm fine with not buying coffee this month. I could keep that up for awhile. But to make buying nothing a real lifestyle, I'd have to find an alternative (a) low-key go-to social activity, (b) restful place to hang out, and (c) motivation to leave the house. Low-key social activity ideas: I could meet up with people at a park at least 6 months out of the year. I could meet people downtown or on the campus of South Seattle College. I could walk with people. I could have them over for a cup of tea and conversation. There is book club. Being with a social partner means I'm often going places and meeting up with him. I also live with a rotating cast of characters who might be willing to walk out with me. A restful place to hang out (other than my home): Libraries, community centers. I could just sit in the lobby at Delridge Community Center (for that matter, I could meet someone there). I could sit in office buildings downtown. I could keep my eyes open for small, restful nooks and crannies that defy categorization. There's a rooftop garden on the 7th floor of the 4th & Madison Building for example. I could sit at the DMV without taking a number I suppose. The one near my house is pretty nice actually. Great place to people-watch. Not leaving the house has been the easiest way to not spend money this month. I love being at home, and it's been restful on my spirit as well as my budget, and I've made real headway on cooking, gardening & crafts. But it's also stagnating, and has brought about a familiar reluctance to leave the house that, if left untended, has led to phobia in the past. So, other than shopping and coffee, what would motivate me to leave the house? Getting to hang out with friends is my biggest motivation. Scouting an excellent conversation is a real treat. And there are many people all over the region whom I miss. What if I were to meet up with every local facebook friend, for example? There is walking. Once I get started walking, I love it. I could make it part of my morning routine every day, or every other day. The Chinese Garden is a block from my house. I could go there every day and not get tired of it. I could design adventures/explorations with unique themes. Spend a month riding buses just to eavesdrop and report lines of interesting conversations, for example. Go to all the DMVs and write stories about the people I see there. Take a photo every day. Visit all public libraries in alphabetical order. Visit all health club facilities in the region to get a free tour and workout. Or maybe just hang out at Seattle Center a couple of times a week and picnic by the fountain or in the Center House. These all strike me as appealing ideas. What would be the hardest thing to give up if you were to do a buy nothing month? Oh Sweet Mama Cash, Goddess of Shopping Carts and the Continue Shopping Button -- I confess it. I really, really want to shop today. It's not that I don't have anything to do. I have plenty to do, even plenty of free, fun, stuff to do. It's just that I NEEEEEED something. I know I have passing thoughts every day (like "hmm...I could use a couple more nice short-sleeved date blouses"). But today's cravings are sharp, like the hunger pangs of a just-waking bulimic bear who purged right before hibernation. (So shoot me; I'm not so good with the similes.) Mother of Ebay, I have issues coming up that I don't want to deal with. The world around us has exploded and a lot of people are waking up right now to their privilege. And I do have privilege -- oh my god, how *much* privilege I walk around with. I was gifted with an honest face at birth. So I can lie straight to your face and you probably won't question me. I'm a native English speaker. So I automatically understand most instructions that come to me in government packets. I'm white. I don't have to look over my shoulder in public, or try to be invisible when cops are around. But as You on Your Golden Throne (in the Women's Restroom at the Downtown Macy's, the best place to do one's business in Seattle) know, I'm also paranoid. Thou hast seen me look over my shoulder in public, and Dear Sister of Sweets, save me from cops noticing me. Thou knowst how, as my world shrinks, I need to dive deep into the Sacred Pools of Pages online, drooling as I fill and empty, fill and empty shopping carts, only to fill them once more in pursuit of the ideal number and type of purchases that will give me POWER and CHOICE and FREEDOM, for those are the things I seek when I shop. Dear Father Fingerhut, I thank Thee for the gifts Thou hast wrought: new blenders and space-saving vacuum bags, "dorm gear" (whatever that is), and a credit rating low enough to bring me compassion towards my less privileged brothers and sisters. To the Exalted Energies moving through Easy Street -- thank You for the hours of table space for coffee and the James Browns with Aadvark Sauce, affording me a safe space to escape the assault of the senses that is the Junction. O Glorious Giver: You know how much I've enjoyed being on my own for the last few days. You've inspired in me the freedom to dress up in costume and make faces at myself in the mirror. or practice the ukelele at midnight. But You have also left me alone a great deal to my own thoughts and fears. Captured me in the Crypt of Terror that is my own Mind. May this particular craving to buy something pass quickly, as I realize it is about wanting freedom from being trapped without having to do the work of freeing myself. I have set away the belief that if I can just spend money, it will fix everything. Tomorrow I will leave the house to take a walk. Today I'll just revel in the freedom of not having to go out. And boom. Just like that. [Craving diminished. It's always good to remember I have choices that don't rely on money, and that I am a power in my own life.] |
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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] |