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  • Writer's pictureKerry Chambers

Ranting’s from a Struggling Consumerist - A Thought Piece

Updated: May 30, 2020

This needs to stop. The money pours from my savings as though I cut a whole in all my pockets, opened my front door to welcome the thieves and gave out my bank details to the general public in letters addressed ‘To whom it may concern’. It once seemed a frivolous thing, this saving malarkey, but now I give more than I receive and yet cannot recall satisfaction in my work. It seems silly, I know, to be whining and whingeing like a self-entitled child, but you see this isn’t my lot.

How can one who has worked so hard and done so well in school because of the aforementioned hard-work find themselves so financially inebriated? And why does it seem like that hard work should have been rewarded with hand-outs, not more hard-work. It all seems rather silly to me. So I should keep on working? Harder and harder? And perhaps I shall get my reward at the end of it all? And should I not, I shall be convinced by some higher power that my reward was life and that I wasted it by working too hard for that elusive reward? That life wasted by the time spent trying to survive it?

Doesn’t sound quite right.

But I’m sure dear reader you see my point also. That to work yourself into a stupor is to be expected but is that work satisfactory to you or the bossman? Hardly. It seems that we all suffer from suck-it-up syndrome; a condition that has unfortunately sunk its insidious tendrils into the mind-bank of the world and tricked us all into thinking that this is just the way life is. It can’t be, can it? It just seems so silly that the Gods, or Mother Nature, or the universe looked upon planet earth and thought that we needed a Power structure of money. Because money will sort it all out, it will keep the human race in check; stop all that pollution. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.

They selected the human race for this discourse, and looked upon individuals and thought ‘If that man owns lots, he can have others to work for those things but within his profit margin for he must make the most of all of them for he worked hard coming up with the idea.’ And then looked upon the worker and thought, ‘These people must be so exhausted but alas there is not enough room at the top of our invention of the power ladder so we must therefore keep the workers down by working them so hard they’re too exhausted to think twice about it.’ Revolutionary.

Give man these tools, and what shell he do with them. Corrupt and abuse those tools for his own self-gain. The bigger picture is a sorry scene indeed. We are all the bigger. But in our little lives, who matters more than us? And so we have the personal toil - who to help? The community or ourselves? How can we help a community when we cannot help ourselves? Who should look after the community? When should one count oneself as part of the community and not them self?

What are we meant to do? Fight and stand-up for our rights? It will do as much good as yelling into the abyss, on a crater orbiting Pluto as a black hole begins to form in the near distance. It all seems so pointless, tedious and, as mentioned before, hard.

The light at the end of the tunnel is but a single point, like a pixel on the fritz of an inexpensive GP waiting room monitor screen as it replays slideshows, in silence, as one ponders their lifespan (or after this rant, welcomes death with an aching embrace), of various seasonal illnesses that they would prefer you treated rather than spread out of in-politeness. So why do we keep going? I suppose there is no singular answer for we all have different reasons to keep going.

But I guess the consumerist world can never quite consume me. This beautiful planet, the birds in the trees, the earth at my feet where thousands of years of history has taken place and the stories we tell across the world, the evolution of all these things… They’re life to me, in my darkest times. I am not okay with minimum wage, I am not okay fighting every day in the hopes that one day I’ll get to where I want to be, I’m not okay with growing-up and losing those pleasantries, simplicities of childhood and most of all I am not okay that this state of affairs has led to me turning all that hate in on myself for there is nowhere else for it to go. I am not okay.

Just give us a break.

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