Take a close look at these two photos and spot the difference. It may be difficult to see, but there is one major discrepancy between the two.
These photos were taken in quick succession, so what could possibly be different? I'll tell you. In the 2nd photo, I have just paid off all my student debt. ALL of it. One click, and suddenly, I had a net-worth of zero.
It felt amazing. I was suddenly worth nothing. After years and years of owing money, going back to school, accumilating debt, in one moment I absolved all of my debt.
This all happened a few weeks ago. So, how is all this working out for me?
I am blessed to be Dutch, as it made my student lifestyle much more bearable. I have always lived minimalistically. Hell, I even became mostly vegetarian. And no, it wasn't because of some morally-superior stance that most vegetarians have; I love tearing into a piece of animal flesh as much as the next carnivore. No, I became vegetarian to save money. So, since 2004 I have been living as if I was poor, just to minimise my money-lending.
If I hadn't done this, I am positive that I would be in bigger debt than Greece. However, because I was a student, I always had a safety net. I could always borrow more money if I needed to.
But now, no longer a student, and having paid off my debt, for the first time in my life, I am actually poor. I live week by week. I take the scraps of work that are offered to me, and I dread the letter in the mail containing bills. Being poor is rough!
On the other hand, I love that I am living the romantic artistic lifestyle. I now have the opportunity to become a rags-to-riches story.
The other day, I was coming home from a day of work at the dreadfully touristy flower park of Keukenhof. There was a huge line for the buses, so I decided to use the time to write something. Sure, writing while standing isn't ideal, but I can't waste 90 minutes of my life just waiting. After a while, a girl in the line started up a conversation with me:
Her: "Are you writing a book?"
Me: "No, I'm just writing a diary."
Her: "Oh, I thought you might be a writer."
Me: "Well, I want to be, one day."
Her: "So did you come here [to the flower park] for inspiration?"
Me: "No, I came here to work. Even a writer has to eat."
So, my recent brush with authentic poorness has taught me a valuable lesson. Even a writer has to eat.
Lentils, probably.
Hopefully soon I will be able to take a new "after" photo, one where the difference won't be so hard to spot.
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