Sometimes, I consider purchasing Shirley Jackson's memoir, "Raising Demons"; it's a light, comic memoir about motherhood. But then I recall that Jackson had intense anxiety, periods of prescription drug abuse, agoraphobia, and colitis. With its insistent lightness, the memoir seems potentially dishonest to me. So I don't make the purchase.
I'm locked in a silent war with the town busybody. Her name is Rhea, and she runs the Maplewood Moms; we've never met. I loathe her; she reminds me so much of myself. Her favorite move is to write a faux-ingenuous post on Facebook that just happens to make several people feel bad about themselves.
Recently, Rhea felt upset because some folks in the town were looking for free tickets to the new Beyonce concert, "Cowboy Carter." And some other people were trying to *resell* their unwanted tickets, rather than simply offering them for free to the Beyonce-loving needy. And Rhea took it upon herself to intercede on behalf of the town's penniless Beyonce fans (who are, apparently, voiceless). Rhea wrote, "If you're having trouble reselling your concert ticket, you really ought to give it away. Times are hard for everyone--but, for some people, they're very, VERY hard. Write to me, and I'll assist you with this process."
I think this is just slightly controlling and obnoxious, but of course if I replied to the post with unsolicited thoughts, I would be reproducing the very same behavior that I claim to find offensive.
I know some people who were involved with the making of Facebook; they own multiple homes, they have access to private jets, they are plotting their acquisition of expensive European passports, so they can flee the reign of Donald Trump.
The world has rewarded them for their big invention....
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