Bitter Ranting

Sometimes I go through these phases where I feel there's a large disconnect between my peers and me, a large section missing from the track that's supposed to link us together.  There are certain realities I face that I think are not translatable to those who've never experienced them.

Last week, I was lamenting going over-budget to a friend.  She took a look at the amount I had allotted for my monthly groceries and proclaimed, "Well, there's your problem, Silly.  No one can live off that."

It was a simple, off-handed comment that was in no way meant to sting, but here's what my friend failed to realize: When you make a certain income, you have to figure out a way to live off that.  That is the reality of my situation and it's something that differentiates me, very much, from my friends.

This same friend was complaining about her job a few weeks back and she said dreamily, "Maybe I should just become a writer."  She then looked me in the eyes and said, "I wouldn't make any money though, huh?"

Ouch.

First, there's the idea that the occupation of writing is something that could be taken up on a whim.  I know that everyone out there is a writer; I know because everyone tells me, all the time.  If I were to tell people I want to become a firefighter, I'm sure it would be very rare for me to encounter someone who says, "Oh my gosh, me too!  I've been firefighting on the side for about seven years now, just little things here and there ... "

If I were to tell people I want to become a dental hygienist, or a sociologist, or anything, really, I'm sure I wouldn't get this "I'm actually a writer myself" response.  But I don't want to be a dental hygienist, or a sociologist, or anything else.  I want to be a writer, so I have to endure the careless attitude of everyone who thinks it's not something that requires work, passion, skill and time, but rather something that anybody, anywhere, any time, could do.

And maybe everyone else out there is a writer, but I've personally encountered few true writers -- the ones who live it, breathe it, smell it, speak it, couldn't possibly survive in this world without it.  These are the people who are willing to take on the task of writing as a labor of love, even though it means -- gasp -- making very little money.  We do it because writing sweats out of our pores, tears out of our eye ducts, and bleeds out of our skin.  We do it because life doesn't make sense when we don't.  And we do it because it is so much a part of who we are, every risk and sacrifice along the way seems worth it.

So yes, these "Hmm, maybe I should just become a writer" comments are insulting.  Honestly, I'd never say, "Maybe I should just become an engineer."  Or, "Maybe I should just become a teacher/ nurse/ artist/ realtor."  There are certain skill sets required for those jobs -- I respect that.  There is certain training that goes into those occupations -- I respect that.  These are not: "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and try this" jobs, the way that flipping burgers at McDonald's or pumping gas at Chevron are.  I respect that.

Earning the respect of my peers is not so simple.  Earning understanding is even harder.  To me, there are few things more frustrating than getting this, "Oh yes, I know how that is" response from people who literally make 3.57 times as much (oh yes, I did the math) as I do, when I express my fears about being able to pay my rent in the next coming months.

"Oh yes, I know how that is."  Really?  You know what it's like to receive a $25o paycheck for the entire month of March?  Really?  I get that yes, we all know what it's like to have bills to pay, rent due, student loans, car insurance, health insurance, groceries and incidentals: Yes, we all know what that's like, and we all know how quickly it adds up and how difficult it is to stay on top.  But trust me when I say that you and your $50K income do not know what it's like to earn $250 for an entire month.  You don't know the fear it evokes, the worry and stress it causes, and the sense of helplessness that comes from it -- you don't know.

And yet, with your "Oh yes, I know how that is" attitude, you can sweep in and say, "Well, you've been working so much this month, so you'll be making a lot more next month" -- as if I don't know that, and as if I think that making more next month will be enough to help me recover from making so little this month.  As if I don't see this hole widening and deepening with each passing day  -- "Oh yes, I know how that is."

I love my friends.  Many of them are very smart and hard-working, and I'm proud that some of them have achieved great success -- financial and otherwise.  But to say that I can relate to them, and that I feel like I'm on the same plain as them -- well, that would be a lie.  There are creative, financial, and self-disciplinary impasses that I face on a daily basis -- impasses I know would be a non-issue if I had a "real job."

So while I'm sure they struggle to make ends meet, it's a different kind of struggling.  And while I'm sure they get overwhelmed by their bills, it's a different kind of overwhelm.  Their reality is that they know, at the very least, they'll make enough to pay the rent each month.  My reality?  Well, last time I checked, my rent is a little more than $250: That's my reality.