In Which Spider Rails Against the Storm
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
-- Wm. Shakespeare, King Lear, Act III, Scene ii
I am so sick of being grateful. I even hate the word "grateful". Why? According to thesaurus.com some of the synonyms are "beholden, indebted, obliged." I've spent my entire adult life making sure I was never beholden to anyone or anything.
Thank you so fucking much, Bush and banks and billionaires. Congratulations. You've reduced the entire fucking country to groveling peasants, just the way you wanted. But as for me, I refuse to go down without a fight. I refuse to be grateful for a job, food in my mouth and a roof over my head.
Do I believe "the world owes me a living?" I don't think I'd put it that way. I believe all people deserve human dignity, and that includes a living that allows you to make your way in the world without begging for crumbs. Do I believe that a person can make their way in the world without any help from anyone? No. I've learned to accept and appreciate help, even though it rankles me; but the thing is, if I had the wherewithal, I'd be helping people too. That's what decent people do for each other.
Because I detest the taboo against talking about money that keeps people from banding together, I'll tell you that before I was laid off I was making almost $60,000. I worked hard to get to that point and I feel I deserve every penny, but I'll also tell you that I was able to help other people when I could -- and I didn't think I was hot shit for doing that. I had it, you didn't, there was no question that I'd share it.
According to all the sources I trust to measure these things, I'll never have that level of comfort again. I'll never be able to have my own home again, or help the people I can when I can. On the contrary, you all saw me use this journal to beg for money, and that was the most mortifying thing I've ever had to do. Is it turn and turn about? Like I said, I've learned to accept and appreciate help, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
I don't think a minimum wage job is anything to sneer at; I do think that it's disgusting that a minimum wage is so far below the poverty line that people can't make a decent life for themselves and their family. I think it's appalling that some people in this country think even that's too high and want to decrease or even eliminate the minimum wage entirely.
It is said that living with other people "builds character". It's supposed to teach you "responsibility," "patience," "compassion," "compromise," and all that. To which I say, Dude, there are plenty of other ways to learn those traits. To me, having a place to call MINE is one of the most important things in my life. I need a lot of psychic space. I need to be alone in a space that's mine alone in order to relax literally, and exhale figuratively.
Not being able to have this, and the prospect of never having it again, makes me want to break things, to set them on fire, to rage and destroy. Not being able to do that is what turns me against myself because it's the only thing I can control. And then everyone tells me I'm not even allowed to do that, that I'm not allowed to control my own body and my own life. And when I scream and cry like a wild thing, I'm threatened with being caged like a wild thing, and I can't allow that to happen. I'm stuck here. I'm strapped in.
This is what I feel like every single day:
All that's left to say is:
Exterminate all the brutes!
-- Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/528791.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
-- Wm. Shakespeare, King Lear, Act III, Scene ii
I am so sick of being grateful. I even hate the word "grateful". Why? According to thesaurus.com some of the synonyms are "beholden, indebted, obliged." I've spent my entire adult life making sure I was never beholden to anyone or anything.
Thank you so fucking much, Bush and banks and billionaires. Congratulations. You've reduced the entire fucking country to groveling peasants, just the way you wanted. But as for me, I refuse to go down without a fight. I refuse to be grateful for a job, food in my mouth and a roof over my head.
Do I believe "the world owes me a living?" I don't think I'd put it that way. I believe all people deserve human dignity, and that includes a living that allows you to make your way in the world without begging for crumbs. Do I believe that a person can make their way in the world without any help from anyone? No. I've learned to accept and appreciate help, even though it rankles me; but the thing is, if I had the wherewithal, I'd be helping people too. That's what decent people do for each other.
Because I detest the taboo against talking about money that keeps people from banding together, I'll tell you that before I was laid off I was making almost $60,000. I worked hard to get to that point and I feel I deserve every penny, but I'll also tell you that I was able to help other people when I could -- and I didn't think I was hot shit for doing that. I had it, you didn't, there was no question that I'd share it.
According to all the sources I trust to measure these things, I'll never have that level of comfort again. I'll never be able to have my own home again, or help the people I can when I can. On the contrary, you all saw me use this journal to beg for money, and that was the most mortifying thing I've ever had to do. Is it turn and turn about? Like I said, I've learned to accept and appreciate help, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
I don't think a minimum wage job is anything to sneer at; I do think that it's disgusting that a minimum wage is so far below the poverty line that people can't make a decent life for themselves and their family. I think it's appalling that some people in this country think even that's too high and want to decrease or even eliminate the minimum wage entirely.
It is said that living with other people "builds character". It's supposed to teach you "responsibility," "patience," "compassion," "compromise," and all that. To which I say, Dude, there are plenty of other ways to learn those traits. To me, having a place to call MINE is one of the most important things in my life. I need a lot of psychic space. I need to be alone in a space that's mine alone in order to relax literally, and exhale figuratively.
Not being able to have this, and the prospect of never having it again, makes me want to break things, to set them on fire, to rage and destroy. Not being able to do that is what turns me against myself because it's the only thing I can control. And then everyone tells me I'm not even allowed to do that, that I'm not allowed to control my own body and my own life. And when I scream and cry like a wild thing, I'm threatened with being caged like a wild thing, and I can't allow that to happen. I'm stuck here. I'm strapped in.
This is what I feel like every single day:
All that's left to say is:
Exterminate all the brutes!
-- Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/528791.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.