Reading, it seems to me, is no longer about educating oneself. No longer do we read in search of a means to empathize with the human condition, or a cure for an aching heart, or a way to enrich our minds. Novels are now marketed to various genres and classes of people. They are no longer the beautiful, prosy works of art I have come to know and love. I have become the tool through which these marketers keep their jobs.
Forced to upgrade that tall to a venti so that I can earn a measly 20 hours a week feels rather degrading, and yet, I am forced to swallow my morals for the sake of survival. The very fiber of my being is tethered to the work I do, and my belief in it. I do not believe in our capitalist idea of consumerism, this need to convince you that you need something you truly do not.
It is in vain that I "sell" $25 memberships. I do this several days each week, only to still feel that ever-familiar sinking feeling each time I sign in to check my account balance. It feels as though the only thing that has changed is my ability to deal with change itself. This is growth, of course. In spite of this, I still need to spend a few minutes each day reminding myself that I am doing the best that I can.
I cannot say I have done the most fantastic things with my life so far. Most of my decisions have not been the most economical either. And yet, I would not change the direction I have chosen. On low days I wonder if graduate school might have been a better choice in place of moving to San Diego on a whim. These feelings now quickly transitions into my intrinsic understanding that I would simply not be the Lahnna I have come to know if I did not walk the paths I have chosen.
What I may lack in formal education (which, in truth, is no more than an extra slip of paper and two more years worth of debt), I easily replace with self-knowledge and the ability to persevere in the harshest of situations. I have seen and experienced extraordinary places and people, and I want that to be the constant in my life, not this worrying over financial sickness.
Ironically, despite being the poorest I have ever been financially, I am experiencing more love than I have ever felt. The absence of an integral family member and the distance of my family as whole does not prevent this sensation from overwhelming me and rendering me speechless. Never have I been so enraptured by the people in my life. I need you all to know this. Through all of my supposed anxiety, and my moments of weakness, I still see these things you do even if you do not.
I may be somewhat jobless, and nearly destitute, but this does not stop me from remembering just how lucky I am. Money is worthless in my eyes. I despise its necessity, but I shall save the Marxist rants for another post. As I end this rather lengthy, loopy stream of consciousness, I feel nothing but love for everyone in my life.
i love you.
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