Sic Luceat Lux.

See, I knew myself and I recognized my comfort zones. I realized that if I stayed in my apartment filled with pretty things, I’d never change my attitude. I thought of ways I could make myself as uncomfortable as possible and when I had pictured the absolute worst of the worst, I did it.

I hauled every single solitary thing I owned out on my front lawn and I sold it. I sold my furniture, my beads, my dishes, and even the half empty bottle of windex under the sink. When I had finished, all of my earthly possessions amounted to 2 boxes of clothing and 1 box of personal papers and mementos, both of which I stored in the truck of my car. Then, I sublet my apartment to someone else, dropped out of college for a semester, purchased a really cheap gym membership, and I went homeless.

I vowed to go homeless until every cent of my debt was paid. Besides, I figured the whole experience was going to be very glamorous. I pictured myself working all day and then coming home, sitting in my car, and writing a book of memoirs about my experience. In reality, being homeless fucking sucked and pretty soon the only thing that mattered in my life was un-homeless-ing myself.

The one good thing about being homeless is that you really have nothing to do but work. When your boss asks you to work a few extra hours, you don’t hem and haw because you’re dying to get home and hang out in your car. I actually ended up picking up a second job at the buffet across the street just to fill the time. I’d work my primary job from 7am-4:30pm, walk across the street to my second job and work from 5-midnight, and then offer to do the nightly cleaning and lock up later so that I wouldn’t finish until 2 in the morning or so. After that, I’d drive to the gym and sleep in my car until it opened. I’d go in and pretend to exercise for 5 minutes so I could shower and start the whole cycle over again. My only bill was the membership to the gym and a few dollars in gas a week. I didn’t even pay for food; I just ate for free at the buffet. Since I had previously pretended that the credit cards companies didn’t exist for four months, a lot of them let me ‘settle’ my debt for slightly less than I owed or at least cut me some slack on miscellaneous fees and interest.

After I paid off my credit cards, I paid off my car. Then, I opened up a savings account and put about $500 in there. My first post-homeless apartment was significantly smaller and less extravagant than my last. I didn’t have a single stick of furniture or any cool Jerry Garcia bear beads to decorate with, but I knew that there was no way in Hell I was going to get my electricity turned off again.

And that, my friends, was one of the best feelings in the world.