Debt (of any kind) is Slavery

I'm originally from North Carolina, and so I had no idea what Juneteenth was. I'd never heard of it. It's pretty big in Texas. For those of you who don't know, Juneteenth, is derived from June 19th, and that was the day the Emancipation Proclamation was read to the slaves in Galveston, Texas, informing them that they were free.

It is one of those great coincidences that June 19th is the day that I decided that we were going to get out of debt. I didn't even realize the connection until some time later, but that is the day that I compiled for the first time a list of our debts. When we graduated from college I knew we had a lot of debt, and I had a rough idea of how much, but not an exact amount. I was actually afraid to add it all up. On June 19th last year, when I added up all of our debts, and saw the huge number on the screen in front of me, I cried. I knew it was bad, but seeing the number, and making it therefore real, hit me like a ton of bricks.

Now, we're not quite one year out and we have paid off our car and two of our small student loans. Small student loans that I once told my mother-in-law that I would just keep paying on because there was no way we could ever pay it all off. Now, I'm looking at having everything paid off in two years. There's more than one type of slavery. There is the obvious physical slavery, but there is another kind of slavery, one that is possibly worse than the physical kind, and that is slavery of the mind. If you believe that you will never get ahead, that the deck is stacked against you, that there's no use in trying, then you might as well consider yourself a slave. In that case, you are a slave to your mind.

 Yes, we may have limitations. Maybe the deck is stacked against us. Maybe we have to work within the framework of what we've been given, but to just give up? To accept that there are no possibilities? That's not an acceptable option. Not to me anyway. And maybe that's why I am where I am.

"If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." -Marty McFly, Back to the Future (my favorite movie of all time)

I take back what I said...

I said that painting a house couldn't be too hard. Famous last words. I don't think I had any idea what I was getting myself into. We started painting the porch yesterday, and I thought we could finish the whole thing before the end of the day, well, we got close but not finished. And that was only one porch. There are three. Our neighbor's son is going to paint the very high part of the eaves for me, and I didn't argue with them because, while I'm not afraid of heights, being sixteen feet up on a ladder isn't my idea of fun. Anyway, I think they offered to do that because we spent a week caulking everything really well, and so what they're paying us didn't consider all the caulking that needed to be done. At any rate, I'm about whooped after yesterday, I went to bed at 9pm and slept until 8am. On the bright side, I'd rather paint a house than work for a certain big-box-retailer-that-will-not-be-named. I'm not really sure that painting pays all that much better when you consider the hours put in, but I get to be outside.

Mamas, don't let your children grow up to be artists. Or at least not artists with massive amounts of student loans. It's not a good idea. It's easy to be an artist when you don't have Sallie Mae sleeping in your guest bedroom. We're working on kicking her out of our lives, it's just taking so long.

A flashback...
"This night will pass just like all the others." That's what I used to tell myself when I worked at a grocery store in high school. I really needed to grow a backbone then, and ought to have told those jerk faces to go to hell. They paid me minimum wage for two years, and I'm not entirely sure why I put up with them. The first two days on the job should have been a huge red flag. My drawer was short those first two days, and so I told my mother about it, wondering what I had done wrong with counting change. She asked me if I'd counted my drawer beforehand, and I'd said no. She said, 'you should always count your drawer before you start your shift.' The third day I demanded that it be counted before starting. It came up short by a lot.

Also, it's not like I liked working for them. I could have gotten a different job somewhere else that probably paid more, but I didn't. And looking back, I have no idea why. All that time wasted with assholes. The moral of this story? If you're not happy with things, then change them. Life is too short to be unhappy.

The Real World: Not a fun place for the Unprepared

I have a hard time understanding the unmotivated and careless. It frustrates me to no end. I myself am very motivated, almost to the point of being cutthroat at times (I have to restrain myself). I also care about what I'm interested in. The same can't be said of some. They stumble through life, not bothering to assess whether what they are doing is working or not. They're quick to blame others for their own mistakes, and as a result, learn nothing.

Then there's the other extreme, the ones who are so focused on their own thing, that they won't follow simple instructions. You're bothering them with your instructions. Did I mention that I teach college? I'm just a part-time adjunct, but I love teaching, it's really a fun exercise (on occasion it may seem in futility). There are always students who I just want to take by the shoulders and shake them like they do in the old movies and ask them if they understand how the decisions they are making now are going to wind up ruining the rest of their lives. Or maybe not ruining per se, but rather making their futures limited and incredibly difficult. I couldn't do that though. It's no longer socially acceptable to tell people the truth.

At any rate, if you desire to be an artist, you should avoid student loans. They are a burden. "The borrower is slave to the lender," which coincidentally, wasn't coined yesterday despite the looming student loan debt crisis in this country. It's from the Bible (Prov. 22:7). Even people from thousands of years ago understood that debt was bad, even if they did think the earth was quite flat. You have a whole generation of people now who don't understand the correlation between their situation and their outstanding debts. They wonder where all their money goes (to the banks), and they wonder why the can't get ahead (quit making stupid decisions). It's easy to be a starving artist when you don't have Sallie Mae breathing down your neck. But try waiting tables with private art school debt hanging over your head (or any other kind of debt for that matter). If you have no debt, the conversation becomes completely different.

Speaking of the Bible, I think some of my student are offended at the religion that makes up the majority of traditional art. I wonder if they understand that for painters a long time ago, it was the church paying the artists' bills and putting food on the table. I don't know what they're doing in high schools nowadays, but most of my students have never heard of many of the old artists whose work hangs in museums around the world. In the twelve years that they spend in grade school funded by the taxpayer, their education didn't even include bothering to mention Degas, Renoir or Monet or anyone else of note. They've only heard of Michelangelo, Raphael, Donatello and Leonardo because of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. How can one aspire to be an artist without having studied art? Some are obviously not even interested in the field they're supposedly trying to enter. I suppose I could understand that if there was money involved, however, the stereotype of the starving artist is a stereotype for a reason. Either you love art, or what are you doing in it?

It's okay to not know what you want to do with your life. It's an entire other thing to go into thousands of dollars in debt and not know why you're doing it. If you need to find yourself, it's much cheaper to backpack in Europe than pay for college. You might also see the paintings of some famous artists while you're there.