I’m at an age where I can barely tolerate any form of social injustice.
I can’t stand ratbags who litter our planet with takeaway coffee cups, plastic straws and other garbage… (don’t get me started on smokers and fishermen/women who drop their filthy cigarette butts, fishing lines and empty plastic bait bags without a thought for the local wildlife and environment).
I would like to see low life who dump rubbish in rivers and bush reserves hurled in the can.
Nor can I handle arseholes who think it’s reasonable to drive their ridiculous 4WD/SUVs (what the f…. is the difference? Don’t bother telling me, I don’t care) right onto the beach or nature strip because they can get away with it.
And then there’s the climate-change deniers, fossil-fuel supporters, corrupt politicians and radio shock jocks.
*TAKES DEEP BREATH*
But now I have a new addition to my list – it is the vacuous journalist who should, under no circumstances, be given column space.
I won’t name the culprit who set me off but her article caused me to shake my head in dismay that such utter crap could get an airing in a Sunday newspaper lifestyle magazine.
The 40-something “journalist” revealed all about her devastating experience at a function she attended in the role of guest speaker.
Wearing a Zimmerman frock she’d snapped up for half the retail price ($350 rather than $700), she entered a room full of women to find they were wearing Gucci and Valentino.
But worse than this, they weren’t interested in what she had to say because they were too busy chatting to each other about Aspen and au pairs.
It knocked the journalist for six. Poor baby. She felt so out of place.
In her own words, she went into a “spiral of self doubt”.
“In this room full of women so seemingly at ease with themselves and their surrounds” the journalist realised she didn’t fit in.
I kept reading because I thought the journalist would have something to say about the egregious behaviour of these women – about how empty and delusional their lives must be as they are forever scrabbling over each other on the one-upmanship ladder and terrified that their husbands are screwing the au pair.
But instead of creating a social commentary piece, the journalist moaned about her surprise at having hurt feelings at the age 40.
She had suffered a debilitating crisis of confidence.
To address this mid-life trauma, the journalist did four things:
She 1. got a meditation app 2. bought a tent (from Aldi) 3. read a book written by a contemporary self-help/self-love guru and 4. started journalling.
For me, the article revealed more about the journalist’s self absorption and lack of personal awareness – missing a far more interesting angle that wasn’t all about her.
I would have been on-board if she’d listed 1. bought tent and gave it to Vinnies 2. donated Zimmerman frock to Salvos 3. read good fiction 4. started writing about things that matter.
It is an indictment of this relatively new enlightened movement where self love/self care has taken precedence over giving back to the community.
The real story is about those people who are so up their own behinds that they have no time for the big picture stuff. They’re the ones who park on the sand and throw their takeaway skinny cap cups out the window.
Selfish and disengaged from the real world, real people and real issues.
It is disappointing to see what passes for journalism in 2018.
If this is it, we’re all doomed.