I think I just solved my anti-holiday, family-gathering riff for the most part. Instead of comparing my life to those who are much more fortunate around me, I think I should give thanks in comparison to those great writers that I just learned about. Last night I watched a movie called "Stone Reader". It was about this guy who picked up the book "Stones of Summer" back when he was a kid in the early 70's. He didn't think much of it then although a New York Times review claimed it was the book of their generation. Twenty years later he picked it back up again and realized that it was the most amazing book that he ever read. He decided to do a documentary about the man and his other works, only to find out that he never wrote another piece and fell out of altogether. The documentary continued to interview many famous and respected literary critics, teachers and well known writers - none of whom had ever heard of the man, but after reading the book, all agreed that it was the work of a genius. In the end they find the mysterious writer pulling 12 hour shifts as a newspaper bundler and welder, living in his mother's home that he grew up in. After the documentary aired the book went back into publication after thirty years.
Seeing someone that incredibly talented who was not the least bit perturbed by his current situation in spite of his genius talent, I came to realize that my shitty minimum wage job, sums of debt and peculiar family situation is nothing in compare. I should give thanks for their support even if it is miniscule in comparison to other spoiled CofC students, because at least it is support after all. No matter what my problems are with my life, nothing can compare to the amazing world of literature that anyone no matter how unfortunate can take a part of. Any support I can have from my family and friends to continue enjoying that world is more than I could ever ask for.