04/24/2024 - twenty til five
Got done with my finals today. Not all of em, just the actual exams. I think I did better than how I thought I was gonna do going into them. But throughout the day, and for most of last night, in the back of my mind, I knew I would have to donate plasma today. I made it a mission. I haven't been checking how much money was in my bank account recently, but I knew it wasn't very much. I'm also quickly running out of food. So, I knew I had to donate plasma.
It's something I've been dreading. It's not like I haven't done it before. The last place I went to seemed like something out of Black Mirror. Rows of people, all lined up and organized, with tubes jabbed into their veins, connected to machines that take their blood, then spins it around fast enough until the plasma separates frrom the red blood cells, then the red blood cells reenter the person's body, repeat. This cycle continues for about fourty-five minutes until the FDA-regulated safe amount of extracted plasma (depending on the person's body weight) is fulfilled, and the "donor" (host) is refreshed with cold saline entering their chest and ~$40-$120 (depending on coupons and specials) in a prepaid card that can only be transferred to an actual bank account without a fee if the donor transfers more than $200, meaning that to avoid being penalized for having the gall to transfer money to their own bank account they have to donate, on average, at least ~3 times.
But I can't go to that place anymore. It's about a fifteen minute drive from where I'm at, and I haven't been able to afford to get my car fixed for about a year now, so I'm limited to where I can go with my feet. Luckily, there is a plasma selling place within walking distance, C(ome)S(ell)(your)L(ifeforce) Plasma. I already made an account on their website a few weeks ago, so I figured all I'd have to do is show some I.D. and I'd be able to sacrifice my humors. The walk there was pretty typical. Getting slightly antsy around homeless people, praying that they don't ask me for money so I don't feel bad for saying "no" (which I would likely do even if I did have some money), being overly paranoid that I'm walking strangely and/or like a puss, making me a mark. It wasn't too bad today. But it was still kind of there. I passed by a bar and thought about getting a glass of wine on the way back. But really, I just wanted to get this whole thing over with, and when I finally reached my destination, I fantasized about what dinners I'd cook over the next week with the money I'd get.
I walked in there, and there's a skinny guy in front of me who looked like he'd never been in there before. What clued me in was that he looked a little out of his element and he was standing at the counter next to the "First Time Donor" sign. I followed him there, and just stood around, waiting for someone to come to the counter. Other than returning donors and a security guard, there was no one there to greet me and Skinny. We stood there for about fifteen minutes, not saying a word, until a fat woman came through and stated plainly, before any prompting,
"You need proof of identity, a social security card, and proof of address."
Definitely wasn't expecting that. There wasn't anything like that on the website. But I went with the flow without thinking, as I usually do (even to my own hardship (this is because I'm largely a coward)), and said, "Well, shit!" A woman came in and asked me if I was done speaking to the fat lady at the counter. I said, "Well, I don't have my social security card, so I guess!" To which the fat lady behind the counter replied without being addressed,
"You need proof of identity, a social security card, and proof of address. You can receive a social security card from your local Social Security Administration Office."
I walked outside and didn't know how to react other than smile and say, "Well, fuck!" I looked at my phone to see just how much money I had left. "$4.15." This made me giggle. Suddenly, all anxiety loosened itself from my body, and I felt... free. Liberated. Like I literally no longer had anything to lose, so who gives a shit? On the way back, a dude with a limp asked me for money, and I didn't feel the need to embellish anything for why I couldn't give him anything.
"Sorry dude, but, uh, I'm.... poor. I'm poor."
He laughed at that and told me he gets it, and we went on our respective ways. There's something about not just having no money, but realizing there isn't much you can do to bring immediate alleviation to the issue that makes you feel so present in the moment. It's usually something I struggle with. Not today. Not after I found out I'm flat broke. This isn't to say there isn't anything to do in general or that it isn't my fault I'm in this situation. I've managed to survive for a while without working too much over the past couple of years, and it's only now that it's coming back to bite me. But it feels good knowing that there's very little me or anyone else to make the situation worse, and also knowing there's not really anyone to turn to for help. I'm on my own. I feel like I can do whatever I want to do; I'm not beholden to anyone.
But there's also something that's really, really funny about it. Not even in an ironic or meta sense. Just on its face. It's very funny that I'm poor. I don't know why. It just tickles me. It may be because I know my mom, my grandma, and my aunt aren't around to fix the situation. They'd be screaming at my dad to toss me some money and he'd inevitably cave. As I got older, I realized how gross it was to rely on something like that, but I still recognized it was something I could turn to if things got really bad. They're all gone, though. There's no one to turn to. It's hilarious. My mother used to idealize a bourgeois lifestyle, and went out of her way to give us an upbringing expected of that, going as far as getting addicted to Percocet and Xanax. Just her knowing I was poor would make her so ashamed. But she can't know. And now I'm poor. I don't know what I'm going to eat tomorrow. I bought flour with my last $4, and now I have no idea what I'm going to be able to eat tomorrow. I'm making fried chicken tonight (that's what the flour's for), but I'm cooking my last two thighs. I do have some bread and some milk. I guess I'll eat that.
A diet of bread and milk. See? Isn't that fucking hilarious? Imagine living off of literally just bread and milk. Imagine living off of bread and milk purely because you're too lazy to get a job. It's just stupid. And hilarious. And it's the situation I'm in right now.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Waylon Jennings - Waymore's Blues
