been quiet these last few days, been running so hard
2003-07-09

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Places I spend too much time:
Slashdot
FreshMEAT
Kegboy's mages.
Delta
Penny Arcade
RedMEAT

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Every once in a while, I have a white collar gut reaction that frightens me.

Every once in a while, someone will sit on our guest bed, or in our backyard, or at our dinner table, and look me in the eyes while they complain:

"It isn't fair that you have everything"

in the same breath as

"I just can't understand why some people subject themselves to university, 9-5, golden handcuffs, what-have-you-trapping-of-society -- I'm too FREE for that!"

It isn't the massive lack of CLUE evident in that particularly stench-ridden breath, that bothers me so much.

It is when they cram another two or three cream-and-basil stuffed hors-d'oeuvres in their mouth at the same time as giving me hell for being able to afford to offer it to them.

White collar guilt, right up there with white skin guilt, non-disability guilt, and every other "something went right for me" guilt out there pricks my psyche with pennance-needles every time I dare have a "well why don't you just try harder" thought.

I will never stop hating right wing bastards who ignore the streets that they've created, I promise.

However, I am now caught on a fine line of occasionally losing my composure and uncommon sense.

Having everything has nothing to do with money.

Having everything has nothing to do with titles, cars, spit and polish, brand names, or picket fences.

When you choose to live in the city, any city, having everything sometimes involves some measure of materialism, but it will never, can never, be based on it.

Having everything has everything to do with effort, passion, courage, and understanding.

What bothers me today is that I'm seeing her sitting in the backyard telling me that "it isn't fair" that I can afford to buy new clothes, and I'm sitting here thinking --

"it isn't fair that she knows how to not work."

I'm counting the ulcers on the executive floor, wondering if they count as part of this mystical everything.

I'm still looking for the ultimate happinness, still learning how to keep from stressing about certain situations that really aren't important enough, still learning how not to take some things hard, still learning that I don't have to do so much in order to be a worthwhile person.

I am so terrified of wasting my life.

So terrified that some days I waste time worrying about it.

But not so terrified that I can't turn around and look over my shoulder and realize:

Part of it really is fortune.

People whom I encountered that told me I could do anything with my brain. People who taught me that I could be loved, that I could be someone good. People who taught me that there was more to life than hurting other people.

I really do have almost everything. I worked hard for it, because I could, and I continue to work hard for it because I can, and want to, and had the fortune of learning that lesson.

I have love (of many different kinds) and warmth and health and strength and memories and a future and brilliance and home and hearth and brilliant minds reaching out to me.

I have a million things I didn't have last year, and each year in the last decade has shown that sort of improvement.

I have no complaints. None. At all.

I'm just a little tired from working so damned hard today.

I don't want to talk about my mom's visit, I'm tired of trying to understand it. I will sleep one of these days, and perhaps be more comfortable with answers.

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5 comments on this spew so far

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Last few Rants:

I guess this is goodbye. - 11:57 a.m. , 2005-02-10
Endorphins, stress, and magickal mystery - 5:07 p.m. , 2005-02-02
stress, incoming - 4:42 p.m. , 2005-01-28
heaving great happy sighs - 3:05 p.m. , 2005-01-24
Imposter syndrome strikes again - 1:20 p.m. , 2005-01-19