On Work

       I used to hate work, but I liked to be helpful and to pitch in when everyone was doing something for the sake of the party atmosphere that sometimes happens ( not often enough). I also had hobbies that would absorb me for days if my stepmom didn't scream at me to go get a job. This last bit happened when I was only fourteen and it's a little cheap of me to tell the world now, because she's probably sorry she did that. I guess on the good side is it wasn't hard for my parents to get me to care about not relying on them too much for money, even though I've always relied on them for money anyway. My peer group kind of kept me honest in that way. You know, I really think if a check comes for me in the mail or is given to me or deposited in my account and it's addressed to me, it's good money. It's important to tell myself that because I receive SSI (for the international crowd: SSI is a kind of government money that is given to people with disabilities, including but not limited to chemical imbalances or emotional illnesses that don't require medication) and eveyone in liberal old Santa Cruz is so fond of telling me it's not my money and that I'm "lucky" and I just tell them it's not that hard to get put on medications.

    But I still haven't said anything about work. I always had enough empathy and restlessness to do volunteer jobs after I couldn't do paid work anymore. I have done that pretty damn consistently for the last twenty years and I'm kind of proud of that. Now I do paid work and I really like it and I never would have been able to take the pressure before, but I do all right with it now. I really like to work now and I owe it all to SSI. Thank you, Kind Strangers of the World! You kept me alive in the belly of the Beast! But that's enough for now. Really, if a society can't keep its weaker members of alive why do we even belong to one?

    Tim Conger