blustocking | the only way I make it through the day, is to die a little inside

It's not simply irresponsibility that got me in the financial hole I am now, it's a complete and utter lack of respect for money. Money is a convenient system set up to take the place of bartering, of getting what you need as opposed to what you want. It's evolutionary migration to godlike status doesn't mask it for what it really is, an idea, an I.O.U., a plan that got out of hand.

I spent money willingly and "irresponsibly" to gain experience, to try and achieve some semblance of happiness in a country driven by competition and consumerism. All of this time, I've quietly felt like this was my right, to be happy. I never really felt like I was doing anything wrong. Finally, I feel vindicated. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to work long hours at a loathsome job, just to get money to pay off your debt and accumulate more stuff. Always "MORE STUFF MORE STUFF MORE STUFF!" It shouldn't be like this in the first place.

"Our economy is based on spending billions to persuade people that happiness is buying things, and then insisting that the only way to have a viable economy is to make things for people to buy so they'll have jobs and get enough money to buy things." --Philip Slater, The Pursuit of Loneliness

This book is my new bible.

And maybe I'm touchy, maybe I go too far, but it's often the little things about Americans (mainly) that piss me off...

Things like, when I ask you if you are an American Indian or Alaskan Native(this is in relation to my job), don't fucking chuckle and say, "I'm American!" Yeah? No shit, Sherlock. That's not what I asked you and if you weren't such a fucking American©, then you'd think about that question and realize they were American long before you were a drunken glimmer in yer pappy's eye.

See, I don't think Ian understands why I get mad about little things like this, but it's because it's a good indication of the bigger issue, the bigger problem.

No one fucking sees the big picture anymore.
Everything's connected, you fuckwits. Get it together.

Man I'm frustrated.
And no, it's not lack of sex. It's lack of my own space, my own time, combined with calls from creditors, hatred of my job, and a general sense of wanting to change the world but being too tired and angry to do anything but bitch.