Being a Big Girl

When I was little, one of my family's favorite movies to watch was "The Gods Must be Crazy." One of the main characters is an African bushman, and the beginning of the movie shows the relatively simple life that the bushmen lead. They find food; they find water. And they live. And that's kind of it-- they play games here and there, and make babies and all the rest, but there's not much else to their lives except survival.


The movie juxtaposes that then, with the "western world"-- you see images of fax machines, and sky rise buildings, and later on, you see a couple of crazy westerners trying to figure life out in the Saharan desert, and they just seem preposterous.


As a little girl, I always wanted to be like the bushmen. "Why can't we just worry about food and water? And like-- TRADE for things we need? What's the point of money?" I always wondered. "Why do we have to worry about all the other messy stuff?" I've always felt that I would have fit better in an earlier century-- I like the idea of working with your immediate neighbors for help and survival. I like the idea of doing things with my hands-- of sewing, and growing food, and chopping wood, and of sending a letter off with a postman on horseback. Those things are so immediately COMPREHENSIBLE to me.

Things like stocks, and 401Ks, and CDs, and online banking, and bill paying, and even the mystical invisible exchanges that occur via a debit card payment or a credit card purchase are so intangible. And, in my case, often incomprehensible. I also have a technology phobia: probably for this same reason. Maybe that's why I have trouble using a planner as well-- future dates, future assignments, future deadlines-- they're all so non-existent when I first hear about them. I think-- my PRESENT self, in the moment-- thinks, "I'll remember that!" Because my present self can HOLD that thought. But then, duh, time moves forward, present-self becomes past-self, and present-self FORGETS and then, when present-self catches up with the deadline... I've literally DROPPED the ball.

I wish for things I could hold.

I'm freaking out a little bit right now, and when I freak out, I tend to get vulnerable, and/or confessive. (Not a word.) One of my problems (what's your problem?? I'll tell you my problem!) is with money. I'm not a spend-thrift, but I so often feel like an IDIOT in managing my money. I lose track of how much I have in my checking account and overdraw. I make payments a day late and bruise my head hitting it against the wall because of the IDIOCY of a late fine. There are few things in this world that make me feel as stupid as mistakes with money.

What's frustrating too, is that there are many things that I'm really GOOD at. I think I'm really good at teaching. And I'm good with PEOPLE, and I'm good with art, and I write well, and I'm good with children, and at living LIFE. This is an arrogant thing to say, but I'm used to being talented.

Still: in this intangible area of life-- the adult area of life that involves budgeting, and rent, and loan payment, and calendars, and hideous paperwork-- I falter. I won't say I'm inept, because I CAN get it together when I make a conscious effort, but it is so difficult for me.

And it's TERRIFYING.

I've been looking into moving out this week. I have an amazing friend that I want to live with, and she's looking to move in late July. And besides-- as much as I love living with Grandpa, isn't it time for me to be a big girl? Isn't it time for me to cook my own meals, and buy my own groceries, and pay rent like every other 20-something in the world? I've been thinking I can handle moving out-- after all, I'll probably be working in September (where? where??), so I could pay a month's rent out of savings, and then pay out of what I'm earning. But in preparing myself to do this, I'm sitting down and figuring out my budget. I'm looking at my loans, and looking at my bills, and figuring it out.

And it really is terrifying.

I had my students do a theatre exercise once that was like a trust game-- they had to close their eyes and walk across a circle, trusting that people on the other side would "catch" them and make sure they didn't hit anything. Some kids walked confidently across, but other kids inched forward, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, flinching at every cast shadow. That's how I feel, addressing all this. I feel like I'm a blind person trying to cross the street.

One might reply, "THAT'S why you keep track of your crap, Greta. So that you're not blind."

Right. I know. I know this is something I need to do. I know that I am not a bushman in Africa. I know that this is part of being a "big girl."

Still.

I wish that life only consisted of doing things that I'm good at.