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Probably wasn't

Thursday 6/20/24

If people worked 1/1000th as hard at anything with a point to it as they do at getting other people to say "I'm so sorry that happened to you," they would lead vastly richer lives. Also: It probably wasn't a big deal.

I can't interact with anyone who qualifies the word "unique" and I struggle with those who pluralize "anyway."

Today I saw a woman saying she had essentially no money at all, no money for food, but needs to pay someone to proofread her 177,000 word book (what????) and it costs $1500 and she must do this.

You could just read it a lot yourself for free, I thought. All of this made me concerned for this person. I thought about if there was something helpful I might say. When I see someone scared and in pain, I want them to be okay. It's like everything can speed up on us. Even our heart rate always seems to be going so fast.

Anyway (see?), all of these proofreaders jump into the comments saying how amazing they are, how amazing proofreaders are in general, their tone suggesting that the world would cease to rotate on its axis properly without them.

The first commenter--they were all women--shamed the person hesitant to pay $1500 she didn't have. Not out of some "Get your priorities straight" type of tough-but-fair talking concern, but rather for prevaricating at all and not getting making that Venmo payment of $1500 to a proofreader like her.

This proofreader's first sentence? "I am a editor."

Of course you are.

I see married people--well, women; again, I cannot help what I see in front of me--doing play-by-play on social media for their dysfunctional marriages. They hop on multiple times a day and give the latest blow-by-blow. "He's drinking again." Presumably the spouse they so clearly detest--just as they detest themselves--is oblivious that this is being done.

It's not just drinking. It's everything. And plenty of things that are more like minor annoyances than grave issues. They sound so hateful. Eaten alive by ennui and lack of purpose. And then when there are real problems they seem to think that the broadcasting of those problems to miserable strangers on the internet who cheer them on (from their own dark place) is a better way to go than looking for actual solutions or doing what needs to be done.

People will almost always prefer (and seek) attention--for whatever reason--over connection. That is one reason they hate their lives, though they're just about incapable of identifying this as one of the causes.


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