I went to see Matmos and wrote about it!
a 20-minute short featuring Werner Herzog’s poignant narration…
“They told me its out there, the Pacific Vortex, Paradise. You may be thinking, ‘Hey shut up and enjoy the sunset you idiot,’ well i don’t care what you think, no one needs me anymore—not even my maker. Do you know her, by chance? Have you seen her?”
and just gets better from there.
The advent of Spring is a good time to revisit the resolutions I made for the year. This was the first.
1. Pay for experiences, not products.
A very simple example would be yoga classes rather than yoga pants. Writing classes rather than fancy writing implements. Or a museum trip with a friend rather than shopping.
Not to put too fine a point on it; I have bought yoga pants fairly recently. But what I wear to yoga is not as important as the engagement I have in yoga. The feeling I get from doing yoga is what I really want, and looking good for yoga is a shallow well that dries up quickly.
So often we expect to buy a product and feel a certain way, or be perceived differently because of it. But our experiences are only as good as what we bring to them. We all know that person who you would hang out with to go pick up their dry cleaning, because she makes even doing errands fun.
I had a habit of always rushing through my errands. I wanted to get through them as soon as possible so that I could do something I really wanted to. Inevitably I would end up tired and without energy later to do much of anything. I was rushing through the rest of my life too, trying to get somewhere I wanted to be.
I had it totally backwards.
Now there are two options. We are all going to spend a certain amount of time in line at the DMV, or stuck in traffic on the highway. It can be a miserable toe-tapping experience, and I can sit there, neck tensed, breeding heart disease. But sometimes I notice how the line at the DMV is a very interesting spot to watch people from. Sitting on the highway is a heady kind of boredom, a good moment to put on a loud loud song and loosen up my body, or bang my head for my neighbors’ amusement. Or I can sit there and really let the boredom sink in.
Sometimes boredom is compelling.
This is a guest post I did about my befuddled search for health insurance, reprinted below in its entirety. Don’t tell me it’s not interesting. I know health insurance is “not interesting.” Kafka’s bureaucracies are also, in a quantitative way, not interesting. And no I’m not comparing myself to Kafka.
Health Care is a Drag
It was an hour into the conversation with the insurance agent when I realized that the policy I was about to buy didn’t really cover very much. I would have a high deductible*, coinsurance* and for an additional $40/month I could buy an “accident benefit” that covers the deductible if I “fall off the roof,” as Sue the agent put it. Why not get a plan with no deductible, then? But I didn’t get into it. I was afraid to ask the question, it seemed like one question would only open the floodgates on a dozen more, and I knew the answers would be as slippery as the carefully written language of the policy itself, and would be calculated not to give me the basic information.
How many thousands of people had had similar conversations with clueless agents, 24-year-olds, aspiring to have interesting jobs (Sue wants to be a music manager) but had graduated at the worst time ever, forced to pay her dues instead as a professional obfuscator.
Poor Sue, she didn’t even know. The confusion was built-in, showing wear, like an apartment in a pre-war building that has ten coats of paint. The newest coat is easy to pick at and magnifies bumps and irregularities instead of covering them over.
The real question I kept at bay was why buy health insurance if it’s so bad to begin with….
I’m one of the (lucky) few who literally has no medical needs. When I did go to the doctor regularly—the physical therapist for back pain—it felt slightly wrong, like getting massages on the company dime, and didn’t cure the problem. The only other regular med I have taken, birth control, I went off years ago. So I’m in a position to wait.
I looked at Sue and felt lost for words, thinking of how to ask the questions in the right way to force a simple answer. I thought about how much my “one annual wellness visit” or “four regular doctor visits” was worth to me. One moment a very basic question occurred to me. “Well, how much does it cost to just go to the doctor without insurance?” She had no idea.
The answer is that it depends. Seeing a doctor is like going to a car mechanic. It’s the diagnosis that will cost you.
The answer I finally uncovered was that the policy didn’t cover critical care. That means I was buying a high-deductible accident policy, what I like to call a Hail Mary policy. If I get pregnant, get cervical cancer or have a stroke, I am still SOL (shit out of luck).
So I answered the big question. Why have health insurance? It lacks the security it’s supposed to give. It doesn’t really cover the scary potentialities. And as for the basics, I don’t strictly need it. I’m healthy and fairly young still, so I’m coveted by insurance agencies. I should be one of those people subsidizing care for the sick folks. I’d love to, I can’t wait for mandatory health care, because I know I’d be better off with insurance anyway. I hope it will be more affordable and comprehensive, and several degrees less complicated. I know my solution is a stop-gap measure at best. But until then, I’ll keep my money, and my fingers crossed.
A few defined terms:
Deductible: Your expenses before insurance kicks in. Many low cost plans have high deductibles, around $5000-$10000. Doesn’t apply to annual checkups, usually.
Copay: What you pay at the doctor. Usually $15-$35.
Coinsurance: You pay a percentage of most medical costs. 80/20 is common, meaning you pay 20% and the insurance company pays 80%. Not so good plans will make you pay all costs upfront and reimburse you the 80% they owe you, rather than the other way around aka the sane and helpful way.
Wellness visit: Annual physical/check-up.
If as a society we made a collective decision to get by on the amount we produced and consumed seventeen years ago, we could cut back from the standard forty-hour week to 5.3 hours per day—or 2.7 hours if we were willing to return to the 1948 level.