I have friends who work on their feet 8-16 hours a day: nights, weekends, holidays. They often don’t get to sit, have burns of varying degrees up their forearms, slice their hands open shucking oysters, rub their fingers raw peeling bucketfuls of fava beans (who knew? but it happens). They are also artists, and they work far harder than Rebecca “it’s so hard to have ideas every day but you can’t cry about it” Pederson. Far harder, apparently, then she can even imagine possible. The thanks she slings from her comfy office chair? They don’t deserve to live in the city many of them were born and raised in because they don’t “hustle.” What about my friend working 8-5 without benefits, nannying to make ends meet, and volunteering around the city in hopes of getting her foot in the door of her dream career? According to this egocentric, ungrateful tyrant, my friends are lazy beatniks.
If Ms. Pederson is such a brilliant, hard-working writer, why doesn’t she “hustle” on down to the city she so dearly wishes to inhabit? It must have been so difficult for her when her buddy ditched out (can’t blame him) & she had to spend her weekday afternoons feeling sorry for herself in Dolores Park. I am not one to defend hipsters or “trustifarians,” but at least they’re enjoying where they are. What the hell is a blog claiming to “celebrate the free-wheeling spirit of the city” doing publishing swill about how the city is some piece of crap for people to flop in while they await their big break in the smoggy hell-hole to the south? Maybe their next piece could praise the Dodgers, or outline plans to widen all the freeways, which would have the bonus of running all those yucky poor people out for good! And I suppose they “support businesses” by running their employees out of town with their inflated
egos rent. This doesn’t “inspire [me] to live life out in the city,” it inspires me to rage over the short-sighted, indulgent asshats invading the city I love.
Then her editor posted some “heart-wrenching” article to make us all take it easy on the narcissistic creep. This article informs us that Ms. Pederson is far too enamored of her happy hour drinks to consider emancipating her 7-year-old sister from the abusive, potentially homicidal parents we’re supposed to pity the author for enduring. This woman is just as self-serving and delusional as the parents she came from.
The real “hustle” here is a pack of opportunistic trolls pretending to be lovers and supporters of San Francisco, but really just stuffing the internet with dramatic ad fodder. I survive my grad school exile by reading about the city I plan to return to, and by finding things to love about the town I’m in. Love the one you’re with, Bold Italic. In the meantime, I have better things to read.