But I haven't been forced to deal with any of those problems lately. Or even more common calamities like the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or the foreclosure of a cherished family home that Great-Grandpa Tom built with his own two hands. I can safely say that life is good in my corner of the world, as I fidget in my chair and knock on every piece of wooden furniture within arm's reach.
So then, as the proverbial bartender once asked the horse, why the long face? Because lately I've been feeling kinda low. As depressive funks go this one has been pretty benign but it still sucks eggs, for lack of a more eloquent phrase. I don't like being sad. At least, I think I don't. But then again, I wouldn't trust me farther than I could throw myself, which I would imagine is approximately zero inches, although I've never tried. Maybe some part of my subconscious gets its rocks off on bumming out. And if that's true for me, it is probably true for (at least some of) you, too.
All of us have dozens of stories frolicking around in our heads all day long, little rapacious bastards feasting ceaselessly on our mind grapes. They're produced by some mysterious internal narrator that everybody recognizes but few can locate. Mark Nunberg, my meditation teacher in Minneapolis, likes to say that these stories are the product of unhelpful habits we've carried for years, the end result of our inability to let go of past misfortunes and misguided attempts to find easy explanations for complex issues. He says that, if we want to actually become happy and compassionate people, we can try to recognize the mental narrator when he starts and allow him to pass by without latching on to his message. We don't have to push him away, or prevent him from popping up like a cranial Whack-a-Mole, but we simply don't have to believe the stories he's telling. Like the way most people handle FOX News.
Last week, as my existential funk deepened and became obnoxious instead of amusing, I decided to give Mark's approach a try. When you're new to the meditation/Buddhism game, as I am, it's really easy to slip back into old habits without noticing. The wagon is mighty slippery and fall off-able. But as the great philosopher Ice Cube once commented, life ain't a track meet - it's a marathon. Plenty of time to get back in the race, and might as well get started now.
I decided the best strategy was humor. Also, self-deprecation. Because the self is the Ego and there's nothing that the Ego hates more than someone laughing at it, much like a teenage girl or a person trying to tell you about the Austrian school of economics. Ferris Bueller warned us against taking life too seriously, and despite Matthew Broderick's underwhelming track record since 1986 I still accept him as a credible source.
Thus, "Rich White People Problems" was born. I don't know where the phrase originated but it has become a very helpful mantra (in the colloquial sense), and I see no shame in benign plagiarism.. Those four words, stuck together, sound funny to me and always produce a smile, just like Facebook memes and "Shit _______s Say" videos don't. I try to remember it whenever I feel annoyed during the day - try to remember to breathe deep, understand that things are relatively fantastic, and slap on a grin, even if it feels forced. Fake it 'til you make it - the body can't recognize the difference
So, in closing, here are some of the notable "Rich White People Problems" I've encountered lately, dignity be damned. I have, for at least several moments, been legitimately upset about all of the following. With any luck, a public display of my problems' triviality will hamper my Ego's subsequent forays into Negative-Nancyhood.
Rich White People Problems: Jan. 1 - Feb. 26
- A lady cut in front of me in the bakery line. She is buying at least twelve individually wrapped snacking items; I am buying a single loaf of bread. Now she is asking for a discount, and her conversation with the clerk is taking a long time.
- My 2nd favorite pair of jeans has a red marker stain that won't come out.
- I had to take pictures with my kindergarten class for a student's birthday, and the photographer-wench insisted that we make a series of cutesy Korean hand gestures.*
- There was no new episode of Modern Family this week.
- Contrary to multiple advertising posters' claims, the "Mexican Taco Pizza" at Pizza Maru contains no jalapeños, very few chopped red peppers, and entirely too much processed ham.
- None of the musicians that I like ever come to Korea, except for that one time that Eric Clapton came last year, and he didn't play enough stuff from the Yardbirds/Cream era.
- Why does this restaurant ruin a perfectly good omelette by smothering it with cold ketchup?
- The school's cook claimed that foreign teachers were using all the milk to flavor their coffee - I don't even drink coffee, but I'm still insulted that we as a group were blamed for a milk shortage.
- Most of the foreign films I downloaded don't have working English subtitles.
- According to several sources, my incoming class of kindergarteners is poorly behaved, mostly incompetent, and has a 7:1 boy-to-girl ratio.**
- It's too goddamn cold outside.
*To be honest, I'm still somewhat bitter about this one. If anyone has ideas for helpful strategies, I'd appreciate them.
**Ditto, except more so.
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