Frustration
I’ve figured it out.
Frustration. The reason I feel I can’t call an agent is frustration. Frustration that one of the agent’s secretaries is going to say “I’m sorry, but we don’t take submissions from unknown talent.” Since you haven’t tried this before, you can’t ever be successful at it. If I had a piece of paper saying that I had hung around a university campus for four plus years, they might give me a chance anyway. If that piece of paper said “Yale” on it, I’d be in. Frustration.
Frustration because I could go and get that piece of paper if I could pay to hang around that university, but, because I couldn’t make some loan payments on a loan I had forgotten I had, they won’t let me hang.
Since I don’t have a piece of paper, I can’t get a decent job. I can get a job working to get someone else rich at wages designed to keep me down, but I can’t pay off my student loans, because they are wages designed to keep me down. Frustration.
Frustration because there are people in Washington DC that could help me fix my student loans, but they have written their laws in such a way that my loan can never be forgiven, so that some bank can insure that they don’t lose any of their astronomical profit to the betterment of the common man. Frustration because whomever I vote for was paid by the bank to keep these laws on the books. Frustration because George W. Bush, paid by banks, nominated Supreme Court Justices who feel that, not only is this reality just, laws restricting paying politicians were too strict; that, instead, corporations should have the right to pay politicians indirectly as much as they want, because somehow that’s supposed to enhance free speech.
Frustration lacking purpose. It is sometimes said of the United States of America that, if one fails at something, they can always recreate themselves. Where has that American dream gone? Sure, you can file for bankruptcy, but that destroys your credit score, and, as is completely logical, that is the only barometer that a bank considers when determining who you are as a person. Fail away, Yankee, just don’t expect us to let you thrive. Work over there at Wal-Mart.
How can you be frustrated? Many have picked themselves up. Many have slaved at Wal-Mart too pay off a student loan too hang around a university campus too get a real job too get elected to The Senate too confirm Supreme Court Justices that think that cash is speech. That’s the American story, right? And that is exactly what most of us are like. Completely hard working. No vice. No mistakes. Brilliant. We just had that one mistake when we were a kid. Right?
No me. Not anyone I know now. I’ve met that guy, but almost no one can be him. I’m frustrated because the system doesn’t understand me and, I believe, most of us; and it is fixed in such a way that it never can. So frustrated. And that’s why I can’t call an agent.