My generation of nice upper middle class white kids was given a ferocious sense of entitlement by our parents and teachers. As long as we played by the rules we were taught in school--do your work on time, study hard, put work first--we were supposed to have wonderful jobs, terrific spouses, adorable children, a house whose tasteful bibelots and appropriately offbeat furniture all our friends could admire.
Read the rest, because it is deeper than you might have thought possible. But what resonates in her words is her need to belong, to feel of value. Either we find that within ourselves or we're doomed to an eternal, external search for meaning. We can do good to feel good and reinforce our good image of ourselves, or we can ask others to tell us we are good. The Little Villagers On The Potomac (and Hudson) spent their late 20s praising each other and talking each other up, until they depended on public approval to do what they could not--approve of themselves.
4 comments:
Would that she'd discovered valium instead of capitalism.
It's easy for local tragedy to feel global.
Yes it is, if you're a provincial, self-absorbed nitwit who assumes your personal experiences speak for the world.
Um, I think by now we know that
My father stopped working for the City and took a job with a trade association
is a wee tad deceptive.
Yeah, the secret word is Lobbyist.
Would that she'd discovered valium instead of capitalism.
Heh. We'd all be happier.
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