A second post this week because we have another crisis in the Miller household. This time it’s more of a plot twist and I would love some audience participation because frankly I’m dying for feedback and dare I say it—advice. GULP.
What happened is, Miss Miller got accepted to the college of her choice. It’s the only college she applied to. It’s the only college she wants to go to. It has a seventy per cent acceptance rate and I vowed to eat my hat if she didn’t get in. Hooray and all that, and also from me quiet grumblings of anger and fear that she will only get more queer year after year.
I’ve been rhyming a lot since our crises hit. It’s a weird coping mechanism, and I hope it entertains you. That did not rhyme. It’s not all the time. Wait that one did.
So a while back I had a conversation with Mr. Miller, where I told him regarding trans, that I am Chicken Little screaming the sky is falling, and he is an ostrich with his head in the sand, pretending all is well and nothing horrific at all is happening.
He said very wisely at the time, “Somewhere between the two lies the truth.”
Well there is a turnaround scenario in which Mr. Miller is Chicken Little and I am the ostrich. And that is the issue of money. Debt is my husband’s kryptonite. It finds him curled up in corners rocking and muttering, while I spend like there’s no tomorrow, indulging in “shopping projects” like tattoo sleeves, makeup, haircare, “ear parties” and most recently, “ring stacks.” I even got me a zero per cent APR credit card to fund this luxury romp, explaining it away as a Christmas present-buying card.
My habit got so bad that just the other day I fell for a scam. Ring stacking was slowly morphing into a “neck mess,” wherein one layers tangles of necklaces. It’s so sublimely beautiful—to me anyway—that I just sigh all over my damn self. I wrote a long-ass poem about being defrauded of my husband’s hard-earned money and have pasted it at the bottom of this post. It was just the wake-up call I needed—horrifying, humiliating and deadly sobering.
What happened is, I bought from a vintage jewelry seller on Instagram. That’s a thing. And it’s real. Only this one wasn’t real to the tune of eighty dollars. And when I realized what had happened I felt like I’d been reamed in the ass, but also like I walked right into it. Like I was the drunk sorority girl who stumbled into the frat party with her skirt hiked too high. And we can debate that too, but not right now please.
Long story short—I have daddy issues—a hole deep and wide—that I try to push gold and baubles inside. Oh there, I am doing it again.
And so debt frightens my husband as much as trans coming for my kid frightens me. Which means part of my shopping is (likely) revenge—if my husband won’t support my fight against trans then I won’t support his need for for debt freedom. And also, whenever he gets really triggered by debt, I get really triggered with feelings of searing deprivation—the kind of overwhelming discomfort I first felt as a girl. And then envy sets in and the cycle of spending begins again.
So here we are. You’re all caught up on the backstory. Here we go.
The school Miss Miller got into is not fancy or well-known. It has a 70% acceptance rate like I mentioned before and her grades are fair to middling. It’s a state school, but not in our state.
When we first looked at the tuition page we merely skimmed it. Now to be fair, I am a slackerista when it comes to college—very ostrichy indeed—and Mr. Miller, bless his heart, juggles the forms and the calls, the emails and bills. But for some reason, this time, even he didn’t look closely at all the columns in the grid on the costs page and only after she got into the school did he realize it’s not forty grand a year. It’s forty grand a semester.
And here’s where you come in, Dear Reader. Because how the fuck do people do this? I think it’s all loans. Family money. Secret OnlyFans side hustles. I also think that maybe most other parents do not fear debt with crippling anxiety the way Mr. Miller does. They send their precious little jewels to the schools of their choosing, regardless of how black and blue their asses get bruising.
So last night, as if reneging on a puppy we’d just brought home, Mr. Miller told Miss Miller that the school was way beyond our means. And he’s been weeping ever since, feeling like a fraud of a dad who let the light of his life down, and now he’s afraid she’ll wind up a waitress and single mom, dating losers and living in a gross apartment the rest of her life. If only!
Me on the other hand, I’m thinking, we might have dodged a bullet. This might be the best thing that could ever happen. Miss Miller will learn the value of money, go to community college—oh and by the way, she wants to be a theatrical makeup artist—something you do not need a college degree for—get a job, and no longer identify as a privileged suburban devil, which maybe will allow her an even bigger window from which to escape the trans train wreck. Because after all this college she covets boasts its award-winning status as an LGBTQIA++ aligned institution. Barf!
What have I left out…I think that’s about it. Please, if you’re the parent of a kid in college, what the fuck?
Thanks for reading!
🫶🏻
Okay, here is my poem. I wrote it just after realizing I’d been had, but before the college cost crisis. *Buried the lead refers to my casual comment about Uggs the other day:
I buried the lead*
My shopping addiction
Skimmed over my greed
My addict affliction
That big hole inside me
That cannot be filled
By boots or by rings
Or by drink or by pill
That daddy did not
Love his sweet little girl
Made her yearn and be desperate
For someone who will
Or something shiny
To make me the girl
With the most biggest load
In the whole big wide world
Of treasure and value
And all dazzling things,
No one would question
The worth of my being
To think you deserve
An existence of dust,
Hurts with the worst
Kind of pain in your guts
So when there’s a boy
Or a toy with such flair,
You think to possess it
Will deliver you there—
To castles and daddies
Who adore their sweet girls,
And smiles and laughter
Would fill my whole world
Then I won’t need a man,
Or gold by the ounce,
I’ll be brimming with worth
From inside, where it counts
I’ll cut up the card,
I’ll do no more spending
Resting at last
In my fairy tale ending
But life is not fiction
It was never that way
Another life lesson
Another dark day
With no daddies or teachers
Or preachers or sages
My job and my mantle
To carry in stages
Is to find that inside me
Is treasure to spare
It’s been there all along
But never handled with care
In the hole down the well,
Deep inside when I’m still
Is a girl who needs nothing
Never did, never will
It was there all along
The riches, the magic
A treasure I sat on
While courting the tragic
Constantly searching
The hole only grew
I copied the rock stars
To possess what they knew
I worshipped false idols
Adorned myself raw
The rock stars knew nothing
The freeze wouldn’t thaw
I searched high and low
I looked here and there
Wine and weed, boots and gold
The cupboards still bare
Inside where it hurts
Deep down in the pain
I lay paralyzed, frozen
And weak from the strain
And then one day
Along comes a thief
Who, sniffing me out
Gives me even more grief
Sly as a fox
Sleek as a snake
I hand over my gold
And then shudder awake
Left with no trinket,
It’s not her who’s to blame
My pockets are empty
And I’m full of shame
Teachers are never
What I’ve come to expect
They’re liars and thieves
And addicts and wrecks
So she taught me, that snake
That I am the issue
Stop blaming daddy
Dry your eyes, grab a tissue
Cut up the card,
Delete all the apps
Do not press “place order”
You’ll only relapse
Yes I’m addicted
But there is a way
To heal me, to realize
I don’t need to stray
Away from myself
Only emptiness lies
Baubles give nothing
It’s time to be wise
Keep writing, keep righting
Stop looking out there
Stay in my business
Handle with care
If I don’t respect me
No one else will
The snake gave me that—
The bitterest pill
But I tipped the cup
I drank the poison
I bear the fruit
Be it ripe or be rotten
Make what you will
Of this life that you’re given
Just know in the end
I have honestly striven
For truth and for justice
For the young girl inside
I owe her my life
She’s here to guide
Safe to the shore
On a ship oh so steady
God if you’re listening
I am here. I am ready.
💚
Painful poem--and I get it. Been there, although with "I'll-make-it-myself" vibes.
As for Miss Miller, if she is determined to go to a school out of state she has to get job and pay half for four years. After that she pays all. No one is owed a college education. I am of the opinion (and I was a university professor) that college is a scam, with bloated requirements and no regard for anyone who doesn't make the school more money and more fame. If she stays in state, then you offer to pay up to 40K per year for four years, after which time she pays all. Loans are a large part of the reason tuition (and books and housing) are so expensive. Compare the cost of school with the accessibility to easy loans and you'll see a correlation that IS causation. As a bonus to having to work, there's less time for nonsense.
If being a make-up artist is her heart's desire, then what she needs is an internship, not college. Cosmetology school is about $20k for an entire program, so that's another alternative. Assign her research: what degrees to make-up artists have, how much is licensing, how long does it take to break into the industry, where to go for internships/apprenticeships, percentage of applicants who succeed in film make-up, how long does it take to earn a living in the field...all reality checks that cost you nothing.
By connecting the next four years to supporting her goals, you win. She has the option to go out of state, but with reasonable conditions. She has the option to stay in state and get a degree in four years on your dime. She has the option to choose a path that is more likely to steer her to the current career goals. And in all of it, she gets the power to decide.
I can’t believe this is me saying this but I’m not sure I’m sending my boys to college. i am a highly educated person who grew up in Los Angeles in the 80s. My private “college-prep” high school sent 100% of its graduates to college - not a single renegade in the group of 120 women. I always thought it sad for those who couldn’t or didn’t want to go to college- their futures dismal.
So college has never NOT been an option for my kids. Until now—after learning so much in the past 5 years—-that college boils down to not much more than 4 years of govt-subsidized indoctrination that you pay for - and pay for to the tune of getting into decades of debt.
I took out school loans that crippled me long after I’d left law school and was well into practice. 8% interest. 11 years later I paid them off but not after being forced into jobs, living situations, even relationships based on the albatross hanging around my neck. I was 36 and had no money in savings- it was all “saved” to pay the loans. And I paid them off early! Every red cent went to that debt because it was just too much after 11 years of monthly payments. But even worse, I feel like I lost those years and ended up a slave to the debt, I did nothing I really cared about or wanted and ended up at 0 close to 40 even after working every single day of my life in a "well paying" profession. I can tell you easily that it was not worth it.
My older son is ridiculously intelligent and academic. We haven’t talked about college yet except in vague terms and I’m too old school to come right out and say don't go. I’m too afraid of what his life might look like without a college degree. But he’s the one now thinking he may not go- that there may be other great opportunities for him instead. And I’ve learned that this thinking has gotten some momentum with his generation recently. We have 3.5 years to decide…..