A Change in Track

I was derailed. The previous blog made me realize how ludicrous it is for me to expect to eradicate $8000 in one year on my wages. It felt plausible when I was captured by the idea, but when I set it to reality, it fell apart.

In the two weeks since I've blogged, I reappraised my goal. I am still riding some kind of train that won't let me disembark. It keeps rumbling forward, passing stop after stop but not stopping to let me off. And so I rumble along with it, falling into a soothing rhythm that encourages soothing meditation.



I believe the $8000 was the ticket onto this train. I thought the train was headed to Debt-Free station but sometimes what you think something is and what it really is are two different things. I am no longer trying to eradicate the $8000 debt.

My new goal is to live a sustained life in a way that is rich and full without spending money. I hope no one's disappointed that I'm not going to blog about how to save money to get out of debt. Instead I am going to blog about self-reliance in an urban environment...things to do that don't cost money (so it isn't added to any debt).

And I suppose I'll end up green. I'm already on my way....

It Can Be Done!!!

I did the number crunching. I can actually pay off my credit card debt in one year!!! On my wages! Without getting a second job!!! But there will be sacrifices. There always are. It's give-and-take when money is involved.

Here's how I pay off the card:

I sell my car, drop my insurance, and take Indianapolis Public Transportation. This alone will save me nearly $5000 that I can throw at the card. I can once again ride the bus, fending off toothless men who want to fix me a romantic candlelight dinner in a park (because they don't have a home).

I can listen to the erudite rantings of philosophical drunks who point their dirty nails in my face and call me a perpetrator (because I'm female and most assuredly will make him spend all his money just to keep me).

I can hold my nose and watch with amusement as people shift from the front of the bus to the back of the bus as a man wanders up and down the aisle slurring his words as he says, "I didn't do it. It's not me. I didn't shit my pants." And it's never a dull moment when the bus pulls over, a cadre of big, hulking men get off and hang around until the bus is surrounded by police. The cadre of big, hulking, men turn over another man who is then searched, handcuffed, and hauled off. And I always look forward to bus drivers bending over to help the handicapped, their shirts pulling out of their pants, which have slid halfway down their butts...and...what's that? No underwear? Why did you have to bend over in MY face? And then there's grocery shopping. On Saturdays. With the crazies. Yes. I can sell my car and take public transportation.

I would have to get rid of my phone. No phone. Period. My kids would have to find another provider. But that would save me $1600 (yes, I have a Blackberry so there's a substantial savings in dropping the phone).

Bye bye Bright House. No cable. No TV (oh, wait, I don't have a TV). No internet. Well. That really shouldn't be a problem. I used to not have internet. Back in the days. When I walked two miles to school. Uphill. In the snow. Both ways! Ah, those were the days. (You kids don't know what hardship is!) This saves me $480.

No entertainment extras (going out with friends...not a problem, I won't have a car). No heat during the winter or air-conditioning during the summer. (Not a problem, I know how to rig a bed at work.)

And my grocery budget (for two) would have to be set at $100/week. That includes food, cleaning supplies, toiletries, OTC medicines, laundry (but if someone can come pick me up and let me use their washer/dryer, then I can save there also!).

Last, but not least, no emergencies. They just don't fit into my budget.


So. Yes. I can pay off that credit card debt in a year.

(to be continued)

Three Thirty-Four

I wake up at 3:34am according to the digital output on my clock. In the distance the train rumbles, blaring its horn, still too far away to be the cause of waking me up. Three thirty-four is normal, though. But sometimes I roll over and fall back asleep. Sometimes I don't. I didn't.

The train continues to rumble, pulsing as it presses forward, unconcerned, steady. The horn blares as it passes through neighborhoods too small to warrant arms that slowly descend to keep cars from racing over the tracks; neighborhoods that only have the blinking lights and blare of the horn to warn them. Caution! Stop!

The relentless pulsing of the oncoming train slides into rhythm with a growing dread within me.

At three thirty-four in the morning defenses are down, the nebulous betwixt-and-between shadows obscure the rationale of a more revealed daylight. At three thirty-four this morning I become one with the train.

The rumble. The pulse. The blare. It moves relentlessly towards me, building pressure, condensing time/space.

I have a dream, a goal. One so compelling that I, Dezra, possessively private and highly wary, am willing to blog about it; blogging with very little privacy mechanisms in place--so unlike me. I am opening up a very private aspect of myself to public scrutiny.

The train approaches. I shift in bed. The panic I've learned to control rumbles in rhythm to the turning of the wheels. Time/space pressure continues to build.

Have I thought through this goal? Have I truly considered the ramifications? (rumble) Is it possible to eradicate an $8,000 debt in one year? On my wages? (rumble rumble) What would that mean? What lifestyle changes would I make? (rumble rumble rumble) What will I lose? What will I gain? Can I DO it? (rumble rumble rumble rumble)

The pulse rises. The train--relentless. I falter. I'm crazy! Crazy! $8,000! Really? The horn blares out a warning cry! It's at Audubon, my cross street! I hear it. Loud. It's warning me. Warning! It's saying, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Caution! Stop! At three thirty-four!

The pressure peaks, then the loco-motion rips through the silent connection between me and the other side of the tracks. It cuts through me. Its wheels, steel on steel, slice by.

And then it's gone, the distant rumble leaves me afraid, pensive. Can I really do this? At three thirty-four the air clears. But the doubts....