Tuesday, September 12, 2017
Better Cars
Our family name is something we have when we are born. Nobody has a choice in this matter. For example, I was born into a working class/railroad family. Money was always tight, but my parents always supported the lot of us in the best ways they could. Because of them, my childhood in the 1970's was particularly awesome! Our family name carried no particular weight in our community. But there were many kids my age who were born into families with recognizable last names. Obviously, these names were associated with money and if you come from money, there are certain social powers that are bestowed upon you. Growing up among kids with money showed me what kind of lives they had compared to mine. These kids always: got the girl, had the car, had the cash, had the schooling, had the job waiting for them when they finished school, started out higher than most in their field, and always managed to get away with practically anything they wanted. I listened to the ways they talked down to other kids. I saw the effect those words had on those kids. I watched and befriended truly horrible people that, when talked to as fellow human beings, were just as confused and messed up as the rest of us... they just had better cars. I knew early on in life that having money was not the way to happiness in and of itself. It would never replace the human beings ability to be a complete mess of bottled up confusion and pain. But what a name does for somebody is keep certain doors open and opportunities available to them. In the end, we are not names and we are not money. In the end, we are mortal and the only thing a better name is going to get us is a better, more attractive gravestone.
It is somewhat relieving for me to have once again found coin collecting as a hobby. Although I have only been at it for a week or so now, I have came across a very rare and valuable coin. Needless to say, I am excited. Beyond this new revelation, I have not been in the mood to write as I have gout in both my feet. Both of my feet look like they are blown up balloons and the pain is almost too much to bear. I have been through this before in grad school. I had to get rides to class from security until they found out I was a liability for the university to assist me in that way. Isn't that funny? Six-grand a quarter and seven dollar salads in the cafe and I can't get a little help to class from security? Anyway, I am glad I quit drinking over a decade ago. Otherwise, I would be in seriously bad condition right now. I'm not too sure about my depression as it has been somewhat covered up by my "found again" hobby. I suppose if I think about it too much, it will only get worse. I'm getting pretty tired of worse! I'm getting pretty tired of having to tell myself how important it is to keep climbing, to keep striving for something better. I'm just not feeling that kind of self-hypnosis at this point in time. Today is a new day and I'm okay with that!
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