
Vacationing
I sort of wish we’d never planned and paid for a vacation to D.C. later this month. No matter how much we need or would like one. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to visit.
We took Jeff and Luther to the vet today for exams and, for Jeff, updated shots.
Jeff has a mast cell tumor (MCT) on his right hind leg. He has some other growths that may be tumors but look less likely to be.
After the usual rundown of risks, costs ($600-plus, not including the $400-plus from today’s visit), benefits and recommendations, we agreed with the veterinarian to have it removed on Friday. They’ll remove all the growths but send the one on the right hind leg to a lab for examination.
I understand it’s the most common cancer in dogs, but still. I mean, come on. Can’t we get a break here?
As Nanci Griffith (and, more recently, Emmylou Harris) sings, “It’s a hard life wherever you go.”
Mine isn’t any more difficult that others’, I assume. And I’m aware many have it far worse. But I’ll be damned if I simply haven’t been able to raise my eyes above what seems to be the dusty, flat horizon of my future. Sometimes, it’s darker than just dust.
I’ve written before about my recent feelings of sadness and depression. I suppose one could just say the sadness is from the depression, but the topic of sadness — the seeming inability to ever get ahead — seems so logical and, well, sad, that I have to think the sadness is lying atop the depression, two separate but connected phenomena.
The one thing I’ve been able to come up with — beyond the easily acknowledged importance of family and friends — is to make one’s purpose the change of the system that requires one’s life be spent almost solely focused on work, on — for the majority of us — producing someone else’s profit, and never ourselves truly getting ahead.
If the Republicans pay better that might explain their electoral success a bit.
Then again, I tried that for ten years or so. I interned at the Texas Capitol and worked for the AFL-CIO. I did the poverty-wage policy analyst and research jobs. I did the nonprofit thing. I got screwed by elected officials. Hell, I even ran a campaign. I did all that bullshit. But I couldn’t survive on those wages and without benefits. (Sad, innit? Work for the Democrats and still get crap pay and no benefits. If the Republicans pay better that might explain their electoral success a bit.)
So, aside from continuing what I’m doing, which is, essentially, just bitching to the right people to get things slightly altered when I can find the right people to whom I need to bitch, I’m not quite sure what else to do. I mean, I guess I do some other stuff. I donate, I try to help animals, I support the most-widely beneficial policies, I volunteer and I’m always open to a new paid advocacy opportunity.
Regarding bitching: Most issues are just ignored, I’ve found. If you simply bring them to light to the right person and demand something be done, it’s done. Maybe not without some pushback or inertia, but it, generally, is changed. If it isn’t politically charged and you can make a logical — or even just a really good emotional — argument, you’re likely to see change (whether or not the outcome is fully what you supported is a different matter). If the issue isn’t confronted at all, nothing happens until someone else steps up — someone who may or may not support the same outcome you support. The element of surprise is, therefore, always useful. If you see something that’s fucked up, don’t delay finding the person who’s responsible for it and demanding they do their job. Worse even than no positive change happening, the result could be more incompatible with your beliefs if you put it off and let someone else bring it up.
Getting ahead. What is that? Well, partially, it’s money. It’s being able to survive without living paycheck-to-paycheck, without having zero disposable income with which to enjoy one’s life, without adequate access to medical and dental care, without waiting for one cost to come along and wipe out one’s checking and savings in one fell swoop.
Politics, power, comfort — for others — is based on how much one has or thinks he or she will have in offshore bank accounts.
I hate to sound barbaric and make things about money, but, let’s be honest, that’s what this is all about: politics, power, comfort — for others — is based on how much you have or think you’ll have in your offshore accounts. I’m smart enough to know that, at almost 37, in my career field, in my city, it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever make six figures. Misty will never again pull in six figures.
I just want a world where I don’t have to worry that losing my job is the end of the road for me. That, because profits decline, I could be laid off and spend weeks, months, years looking for work (I’ve been there before).
I also don’t want to live in a world where I failed. And that’s, essentially, what the above represents in this world, isn’t it? If you can’t bank that six-figure (or more) salary, you lose. Little or no money equals no (political) power and, thus, no comfort, and very little hope that it may come. As long as we remain divided, this will be the case. This will be the depressing fucking world we live in each day.
Working to improve the world doesn’t mean your situation will improve.
What I’ve learned is that trying to make things better doesn’t mean they’ll get better for you. Working to improve the world doesn’t mean you’ll be able to comfortably afford to live in it. Your overall effort may succeed, but it may seem a waste in relation to your still-shitty situation.
I guess that’s what disappoints me and depresses me and really just makes me want to leave this world.
But I won’t. And I will try to be happier.
I mean, if I’m still painting and still writing, I can’t be that bad off.

