Poor living.

I'm up to 1400 words of mostly finished prose on this week's installment of the novel. I have 600 words, or two pages to go, and I'll have a complete installment to read at the writers' group. Most of this one is concerned with two detectives on the trail of a runaway. Since it is a werewolf story, they are finding some inexplicable things. 

Writing isn't so difficult anymore. It's easier to crank out prose, though not quite at the L. Ron Hubbard rate, yet. For the most part, I waste it on posting in places rather than writing fiction.


My cat is scratching her neck bare. Being fixed-income poor, I'd hate to spend money on a vet or a groomer, especially when they'd be so hard to get to. I gave her a flea treatment a week ago. I hate to do it, and hate to repeat it. The chemicals, of course, are poison. There are cases of cats dying from their use. But it's too painful to watch her scratch and lick herself. 

And this allows me to segue into a certain piece by SF writer John Scalzi which I borrow from his blog:

Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they’re what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there’s not an $800 car in America that’s worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends’ houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won’t hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.
 

The list goes on. I can add a little more to it:

Being poor is scouting out abandon buildings "just in case."

Being poor is hanging on news that your legislature is going to make another cut to the safety net.

Being poor is relying on the neighborhood clinic and free, not-for-profit mental health.

Being poor is depending on a, bare-bones, mass-transit system.

Being poor is dreading the day that you, or your cat ever get sick or injured.

Being poor is wearing thermals, three layers of clothing, a cap, and a scarf in your apartment, and being thankful that it's warmer than outside.

Being poor is keeping only one energy-saving light bulb lit in your apartment at a time.

Being poor is feeling you've beat the system when your electric bill is less than $20. 

I don't go out of my way to complain. To be fair, I have worked on my writing because it's the only thing I'm not too disabled to do. I just haven't gotten a paycheck in five years. I'm capable of buckling down and finding resources.

It's a good thing I don't have a family to take care of. That's the one thing I did right, or rather haven't done wrong, or actually haven't done. I no more should have a family than my mother should have. I feel so sorry for people who have to raise families in this economy and environment. As resources run short and the environment gets worse, I fear for humankind. I fear for my family and friends.

But perhaps that's the one being poor really is: being afraid, being vulnerable, thinking that the next slip up or next crunch could be fatal for you or for the people you love, as either a quick death or a slow one. It's actually better to be dumber, to not be able to imagine or run scenarios in your head, because the just raise your stress level, which can lead to impoverishment and death by itself.