Over the past few months I've dropped off the face of the blogosphere for a variety of reasons. It started with being told repeatedly by various friends and family members that I needed to change my politics. I smiled and told them I loved them anyway, which I do, but after a while it just got unnecessarily grating. If people can't have a respectful conversation, why bother talking?
With my nerves already fried I faced the fact that my husband was being laid off. My answer: Increase my hours at work while he looks for a new job. Result: Not much free time for writing. Woe is my reading public. (Actually, let's be honest: Woe is me. After all, writers usually write to read their names in print, anyway -- don't ever believe any of the so-called "soul-bearing creative arts" are entirely selfless endeavors.)
Work has been busy. But, over the past few weeks it has slowed from frenetic to fast-paced, giving me time to resurface and grab a breath of fresh air -- loaded with the foul stench of angsty yuppies wafting my way from Zuccotti Park.
I don't need to waste my time re-writing excellent commentary and re-drawing the same logical conclusions already drawn by several bloggers who've had much more time to immerse themselves in the literature ("Humanity vs. The Rothschilds" -- I'm not even going to bother quoting the Illuminati nonsense) and fine arts (cop-car crapping that reminds you of the infamous 'Virgin Mary in Jar of Urine' exhibit from the Guliani years) of the sore losers known as Generation I (I-Pod, I-Phone, I-Don't-Wanna-Get-a-Job). Why? Because I get it.
How, you ask, could I possibly understand? Because, like many middle class kids who worked under the delusion that they'd walk out of college and into a good paying job I, too, had to suffer the hard knocks of reality. Fortunately, I'm in a better position now than I was back then. But, my situation 7 years ago wasn't that different from the situation of most of these young people at Zuccotti Park (except for the fact that my Dad wasn't rich, I couldn't live off of my parents, and the fanciest cell phone I have ever owned can text message--and that's about it). So, what would the Susan of 7 years ago say to the protestors of today?
So, you majored in American Studies and now the only place you can work is Wal Mart? Try majoring in Communications and getting a job as a bank teller. The qualifications and pay are about the same. So, tell me, why didn't you apply for a job that at least gave you Federal Holidays off?
Suffer your B.A., do you? Try being told to take your Master's degree off your resume because people will think you're "too smart" for that job at the bank.
Bogged down by those loan payments? Hmm...why do you think I work at a freaking bank? Because I like counting other people's money?
Yeah, that about covers it. You see, I had my financial burdens and I walked through my own obstacles in my job hunt. It took a whole seven years of hard work for me to get where I am today: Living a happily middle class lifestyle.
Seven years. That's like, FOREVER. And dude, working at a bank? That's like BORING.
But, wait, the story gets better: The bank I worked at for two years sold out to a larger bank. So, I had to find...ANOTHER JOB. Which I did, without spending one day on unemployment. And then, after a while I realized I wasn't moving along in my career the way I wanted to...so I networked...and found...ANOTHER JOB. And now, I work for a company that recognizes and rewards my talent. Sure, because of budget cuts I had to forego a raise my first year, but in my second year I managed to not only be given a raise, but also to be rewarded with: extra hours and free professional development classes!
OH HOW I HAVE SUFFERED!
And, guess what: I did all that suffering without making my burdens anyone else's responsibility. Yes, I lived at home. And when I did, I paid rent and covered my own bills. And I still do! Oh, how I have suffered! Please, oh please, can I go live in a park with no plumbing and live off of free donations, sleeping with all my beloved possessions tucked into my clothing so that they won't be taken from me by thieves in the middle of the night? I'll bring my guitar!
Sure, I can see the farce going on in New York for what it is: A load of nothing. And yet, I keep hearing things like, "They are banning together against corporate greed! It's evil!" Yeah, corporate greed is evil, until it lets you park your butts in their privately owned green space they use as a tax writeoff. Or, "But people need jobs!" And if they really wanted them, they'd be down there in suits with resumes, not marching around with illiterate signage, screaming slogans being fed to them by the army of paid activists, union workers, and social justice bloggers "covering" the protests. Seriously, folks, when the mainstream media is coming out and telling you point-blank that you need someone to take a hit in order for America to care, you've got to recognize that there's only one guy in this world who was able to pull off putting on a show about nothing.
Oh, wait, he was a dirty, corporate-sponsored Jew banker. Nevermind.
So, if only to remind some of those people who feel the need to tell me (and the rest of the American taxpayers who are too busy working to drop everything and spend all day toting around someone else's message for free) that I'm the one who needs to change my politics, let's make one thing clear: The 99% don't give a crap about the less than 1% holed up in the cesspool that is Zuccotti Park. What's more, we don't give a crap about your "woe is me" whining or your incessant desire to proclaim that every last ounce of American Constitution and culture is "wrong" "evil" or "unjust".
And, let's make it clear: We aren't taking on your responsibilities, so stop trying to shove them onto our shoulders.
Life is hard and, guess what, Mick was right: You can't always get what you want. So stop trying to get us to give you what you need. You aren't our job. Your burdens are not our responsibility. Forget Wall Street, Washington, or any other state capital and try occupying some brain cells for a change. Instead of protesting life, start living it and maybe you'll learn something. Until then, keep your sad-sack bilge to yourself ...because the rest of us have work to do.