I spent this afternoon in a strange place. At this strange place, I listened to a woman talk and talk and talk and talk about how she had no friends and how sad she was about it and how she knew she'd never make friends because of this thing and that thing and la la la la so why try, she'd just be disappointed.
I thought to myself, "Of course no one wants to be your friend. You whine and complain and refuse to do anything about it because you're afraid you won't have any friends and you already say you don't so who cares?." Then I thought, "Dotty, you're not being very compassionate."
Then I thought, "Okay, here's some compassion: I do understand that you're feeling a lot of pain. It's also very clear that you're not helping yourself out very much. If this is something you want, you will actively need to do something. Work toward a goal, perhaps increasing your self-esteem."
Thoughts grew rapidly less compassionate: "Maybe goal number two can be to stop pissing me off with your pansy-assed tales of imagined woe. Get on the stupid phone and call someone. If they say they hate you, then you can whine."
Then I thought, "Good start with the compassion. Not so great a finish."
Then I came home and opened The Baffler #14: The God That Sucked and right there on the inside cover was a beautifully appropriate quote. It goes a little something like this:
These people are ready to grumble at every boon conferred on them, and yet to enjoy every boon. They know, too, their privileges and, after a fashion, understand their position. It is picturesque, and it pleases them. To have always been in the right, and yet always on the losing side; always being ruined, always under persecution from a wild spirit of republic-demagogism--and yet never to lose anything, not even position or public esteem, is pleasant enough. A huge, living, daily increasing grievance that does no palpable harm, is the happiest possession that a man can have.
So said Anthony Trollope in 1878
Posted by dotty at February 25, 2004 09:35 PM