Nobody puts baillee in the corner

I’m poor. Plain and simple. Yes, I can pay my credit car bill, my electric bill, and rent (what up, Destiny’s Child?). I can afford some splurges here and there, and thanks to Casting Out Demons, justify them as being “work-related.” However, I am in no way considered wealthy. I have paid for things in spare change. I am constantly balancing and budgeting in my head. Despite my financial stressors, I am happy. Yes, I would love to win the lottery, but I would still work at my job. I would still eat at Whataburger. I would still even buy some scratch offs here and there. I’ll be the first to admit times are tough, even for a single 22-year-old living in Austin, but money isn’t everything. If cash is king, I’d rather be hanging out with the court jester. At least he’s more interesting.

I’d rather go to thrift stores and buy green tie die shirts with wolves howling at Santa Claus for $2 than buy $700 white pants from Saks Fifth Avenue I’ll destroy in less than two minutes. I’d rather go to a hole in the wall taco stand and get full off of $5 than spend $150 for a plate at some generic, snobby restaurant and get a cracker with a dollop of an indistinguishable sauce intricately placed in the center. Being poor is honestly a lot more fun. You learn to be creative with the leftover crafts supplies from your RA days. I spent $18 on fabric the other day and made a giant bulletin board, recovered two chairs, and made two throw pillows. I feel like the MacGyver of hipster fox material. Not only is being broke more fun, but you also learn how to be responsible. You learn how to set aside money for unexpected circumstances, whether it be finding a rare Space Ghost: Coast to Coast DVD on Ebay or having to pay an ungodly late fee when you forget to pay your credit card bill for only the second time in five years.

Being poor unfortunately does have its downsides. I wish I could help my friends and family more. I work as much as possible, and sometimes have to restructure or completely change plans. Sometimes you have to pretend like you’ve already eaten or wait until you get home when you can’t afford dinner and don’t feel like explaining your financial situation. Sometimes people get sick and assistance programs fail. Sometimes it sucks a big one. You can’t let yourself dwell on it though. Envision yourself being famous and going to Taco Bell in a limo. Imagine yourself writing blank checks (on the movie Blank Check if you wish) to all of your loved ones to help them out. In the meantime, go to Taco Bell in your work clothes and help out your friends and family how you can. You have to look at the glass half full, especially when you don’t have the money to fill up the whole damn cup.