Worse Things have happened

Today I went to the Met. Which I was too ansty for, I couldn't focus on the art and when I tried to sketch in the Greek and Roman galeries, I discovered 2 things that prevented me from doing much. 1) the benches are all facing the backs of the pieces or at awkward angles and 2) there are an awful lot of people in the Met at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. Doesn't anyone work? In the right art mindset neither of these would be a problem. In the Louve, I crouched on the floor in corners until my legs gave out and I fell over because I'd gone numb from too many sketches of too many pieces. Today, I managed a very brief 10 minute sketch of a marble statue of Venus. And that was it.
I did, however, discover the "study room" above the gallery which is filled with crowded glass cases roughly sorted of pottery, statues, jewelery and whatever other bits and pieces they had. And I do mean roughly sorted: each case contains probably a hundred various objects, and is simply marked "Crete: Bronze Age" or "Horses in Imperial Rome". I'm making the specific titles up, but you get the idea. This room was mostly empty, and had what I think of as that "Brittish Museum feeling". Now, I have never been to the Brittish Museum, so I have no clue why I think this, but it's when you're in a space that feels amazing, holy almost, in that you can feel the palpable energy of the history or art or whatever. Most spaces that should have this feeling (such as the Acropolis) have been trampled and filled with tourists, so the eons of emotion and worship have been crushed and can no longer be felt.
This is one of the saddest things in our world.
Mostly, I tell myself that worse things have happened, which Danielle wrote a beautiful post about today, quoting from The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, on (amongst other things) the idea that Worse Things Have Happened. This is an idea that both saves me and gets me into trouble. No matter what is happening, I might reply "worse things have happened" - which could mean "I've survived worse, so I'm not afraid" but could equally be -not sarcastic exactly- but somewhat tounge in cheek "Is that supposed to worry me? It actually sounds kinda good."
I use the first way much more. To remind myself that nothing thus far has proven stronger than I am, so while this might suck, it too is temporary and I can survive it too. Because I'm quite durable. I'm tired, but who isn't?
However, when it comes to a few things, like the way our world has become so comercial and fake, I lose perspective. Worse things have happened, like genocide. But its all so tangle together at this point. When I sit on the subway, and some guy panhandles by singing the song he wrote for Jesus and everyone carefully ignores him, I turn up my ipod too. And I watch as no one looks at him or each other, at a city full of people pretending to be alone in crowded cars where every lurch presses you against a stranger. And I know why we can distroy so much for "comfort" and the all-important "convenience". Because it is a culture of self-absorption. Of loud voices and disregard for history and beauty. And I am certainly an offender. And I wish I could stop. But I know tomorrow, I'll be back to my desire to consume. Hell, I spent too much money today (art supplies and candles) and we all know I'm not going to undergo a radical personality shift and give up the soda and chocolate and junk food or the loud, sarcastic commentary or my ipod or cell phone or laptop. But as a society, we must do something. Because how can this culture leave anything but hollowed-out, brittle, self-absorbed shells where people are supposed to be?
And now I'm thouroughly depressed.