Bursting a bubble

Other than England, I’ve never had a really huge desire to live any place else other than Massachusetts. Sure, there are some places I’d like to see before I die… but I don’t have an overwhelming desire to uproot myself and go elsewhere. And even England… well, even my beloved London doesn’t have the brilliant autumn or… my family.

It’s easy to become self-satisfied with where one lives. Maybe that’s a necessary self-preservation when, let’s face it, my bank account doesn’t allow for many grand adventures abroad or relocation. I have spent over fifteen years working in museums and attractions that appeal to people who come here from other places, who marvel at the beauty this place has to offer… and show me how to look at the world I could so easily take for granted with love and appreciation.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I see the flaws. This is not paradise or the best place in the world. It’s where I wish to be… and yet, the weather can be frustrating. Housing is crazy expensive. People, for the most part, are in a rush and avoid eye contact on the street. There is a ridiculously stupid need to abdicate the use of ‘r’s. Oh, and then there are Red Sox fans.

None of that, I felt, justified this notion in recent elections to declare people from Massachusetts out of touch, elitist, and not like the rest of the country. Just because higher education and science are our major industries. Because we recognize personal freedom is more important than constitutionalized prejudice. Because, ahem, this is where this country started. 

But recently… I don’t know… I am starting to think we are in our own little world in Massachusetts. I think that every time I see a Charlie Baker ad and he declares how messed up Beacon Hill is and how we need to change things and make them better. Whenever I hear anybody in this state complain about the government and TAXES and then declare how much they NEED that money. Because life here is so rough.

Okay, it is rough. I have friends who are out of work and struggling. I have friends who are out of work and… finding opportunity. I have friends who are working and can’t leave a job they hate because they want to keep their homes. I… well, like I said… I don’t have money to travel or get my own apartment. But, really… really that’s okay… considering.

Everything is relative. I don’t have any right to render a judgment on hardship, be they my friend or no. I hide a lot of my unhappiness, so how do I know what people don’t tell me? Still, we don’t have it that bad. No. No, we do not.

Poverty in Massachusetts is not what poverty is in other parts of this country. Granted, I haven’t visited most of those parts, so this is a lot of speculation and hearsay. I read newspapers. I watch documentaries… and I absorb all this information… to decide that my life IS NOT that bad here. It could be infinitely worse. And to complain is just manifesting my inner spoiled brat.

Great. I’ve acknowledged that. Isn’t that elitist in another way? Or worse? To admit I know it and then move on and ignore it? 

I’ve struggled to understand where all this irrational RAGE comes from. Why people are so blinded by their hurt and fury that they will listen to Fox news, why they insist on hating everything Obama does to HELP them, why they think the corporate funded Republicans are going to do any better to actually fix things? 

And then I think… when you lose everything… when a home is swept away because of a government that fails you for being from a state that didn’t raise Kennedys or doesn’t house the halls of Harvard… maybe the rage is… well rage never makes sense. But maybe I can understand why no one is a good guy when life just spits on you.

I don't have these hardships.  I have the privilege of viewing them through a television screen, or reading about them idly on the computer whilst on my lunch break from my job that pays my bills and health insurance.  Do I have a right to render an opinion?  Or should I just shut up now and do something that will actually help?