…And then you begin.
…or at least fund this crowdsource.
I saw an article today that defined someone today as “deserving” for, really, the act of being a decent human being.
A crowdsourcing campaign was set up to fund something for this person just for publicly helping someone else out.
Just because you shovel the sidewalk for someone else, doesn’t mean the world owes you $300,000.
Every time I remove snow, I do not only my own, but the house to each side of my own, sometimes further. I don’t do this because I am some hero. I don’t do this because I am looking for accolades. I do it because I like shoveling snow and I am nice and it is nice for the people who have to use the sidewalk. It is because I am civilized and we live in a society and we are supposed to do for each other, that’s the deal.
(When in society did we start rewarding the mundane? When we do that, what becomes of the extraordinary? I suppose it becomes unbelievable; unwanted and by the wayside. I guess it’s easier to yell “PHOTOSHOP” than accept and be happy that someone could (dare) shine brighter than we do.)
This post is going to deal, initially, with money, but that isn’t really what it’s about. Money, as per usual with me, is merely a metaphor. This is a bit of a free-style personal rant, I guess…
…Do we strike back?
Tonight I am glad for the wine and that it’s working so well.
I can’t help but feel I am being extra moody today… my usual positive nature isn’t working out so well. I feel like the angels aren’t listening (which I believe in so, tread lightly…Please).
We are supposed to have angels around us, but today I feel alone.
I guess it’s easier to be strong when you feel things are going to work out but today I feel like the underlying support system went on strike without telling me and in doing so, took away my “guarantee”.
Ok, I know there are no guarantees… but when your sense of “everything is going to be ok” feels like the bottom dropped out, it’s an empty and panic inducing feeling.
I guess I have to ride it out, broke, while the angels collect their strike pay. Such a laborer… Such a capitalist… Such an elitist. I guess I can’t help it: Management never did get paid when hourly went on strike.
“Looking for a savior in these dirty streets
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
I’ve been raising up my hands,
drive another nail in,
Where’re those Angels when you need them?”
– Tori Amos