I've been wanting to post for a while, on a hundred different topics, including sexism and the renewed opportunity for us to move past generic, superficial dalliances with its impact and pervasiveness. Add racism to that.
I want to speak about economic misery and the proven-to-be-untrue mantra that if you work hard you will get ahead. At 46, with an exemplary record of work and accomplishments behind me, I am watching my career investment and sacrifice drift into meaningless triviality. A slate wiped clean of any real success in terms of respect for my contributions, the perks of seniority, and worse, the financial rewards I was sure would come.
The skills I have gained are losing relevance. I shoe horses in a post-Ford world. I'm worried about where to go from here, what to learn, how to proceed. I'm not afraid of a new direction, but no one knows which way to turn. The compass of media is spinning wildly.
I want to write the details of thousands of dollars in dental work I cannot afford. The confusing labyrinth of my son's illness. The worry that we will not be able to pay for college and health care and the middle-class life to which we have become accustomed.
But each time I sent down, the threads of my concerns weave a chaotic, warped cloth that I can't bring myself to publish. Too long, too ranting, too angry.
And yet, thought the short-term looks ugly, I am more optimistic than I have ever been. Here's why:
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