Lately I’ve been angry. Calmly angry, no rage-filled attacks of revenge for me, but angry. Angry at the status quo, the dominant paradigm. Angry that consumption and disposability are the norm. Angry that nearly everything is determined by financial viability rather than the real deep-seated priorities of real people and real communities. Angry that the marriage amendment is even a possibility. Angry that Michele Bachmann was ever considered a legitimate presidential candidate. Angry that the Occupy Movement is even necessary because corporate banks are so utterly disconnected from the well being of real people. Angry at cancer, at natural disasters, at makeup, at cars and roads and balancing the budget.
Is my anger self-righteous? Certainly. Is it warranted? Absolutely.
Joss Whedon put it perfectly: “I can be very pessimistic on a broad scale. On a smaller scale, I love people and I’m interested in them.”
Moments and individuals are marvelous, intriguing, surprising and delightful. But we might still be f***ed. Anger feels like a reasonable response to this complete and utter incongruency.