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  • On becoming a better person

    I was thinking the other day about how odd it is that there are some people I
    just can never be jealous of. Whether it’s getting generous gifts from
    parents/family/significant others, getting paid ridiculous amounts, getting
    straight As, whatever. I might sound like a witch saying this, but when I hear
    about great things happening to some (a few – not very many) I can’t help but
    begrudge them a little. Don’t I work hard enough? Don’t I deserve good luck? AM
    I not a good person? But for most of my friends I really am happy for their good
    fortune; I might wish for a second that I was as lucky or blessed, but in no way
    do I want to detract from their achievements.

    What is it that makes the difference? How close we are? How often we see each
    other? How genuinely nice they are as a person? Whether they’ve worked really
    hard to get to where they are?

    The biggest surprise for me was the last time I saw my family. My brother,
    though he doesn’t have everything he wants (I don’t think) gets a hell of a lot
    from my parents. iPod, camera, special edition Strat which cost over a grand (or
    was it two grand? Does it make a difference when the numbers are that high?) My
    guitar and amp cost less than that combined, and I paid for it all myself
    working two jobs in fifth form. I never got given anything like what he gets
    now.

    And yet I really do not care. I’m glad for him, I’m glad my parents are
    loosening up a little and maybe learning to appreciate what they have. I don’t
    even feel a little pang that I missed out on all that stuff. Everything I have
    now I earned myself.

    Maybe I’m not as selfish as I thought I was.

    Being the oldest and the guinea pig for growing up in a new country, and female,
    and the “smart” one who was pushed to excel was kinda hard. It was never good
    enough – didn’t matter how many people I was beating, I was still supposed to
    look up to the freaky top 1%ers and strive to be just like them. Unfortunately
    what my parents wanted was vastly different from what I wanted. And neither of
    us dealt with that in the best possible way, hence the whole leaving home in
    sixth form thing.

    Since then I think I’ve received more from the folks than in my whole life. We
    never really did Christmas. I never believed in Santa. I probably didn’t even
    hear of him till I was about seven. We went shopping for our presents on
    Boxing Day, occasionally. We didn’t get birthday presents (though granted we
    didn’t really give them either). Sometimes I feel like I missed out on a lot
    but I have to remind myself they’re just material things. Now I get birthday
    and Christmas gifts, which although is nice I find it ironic, and a little sad.

    I see in my brother a lot of what I was like at that age. He lives a little bit
    in his own world, like I did, but in a different way. I lost myself in books,
    where he spends his time on the computer/watching Tv and now playing guitar, I
    guess. He’s gawky, awkward and a little socially inept, a bit defensive, a bit
    aggro, and sometimes the way he talks phases me a bit because that’s exactly
    something I would’ve said when I was 13. I’ve come a long way from there, and I
    can only hope that in time he’ll grow into himself too.

  • You can do it. No, really.

    Red sofa

    Couches are nice – not a necessity. Image via Wikipedia

    Some of my friends seem amazed at how I’m managing to get by being fully independent. They say there’s no way they could do it, it would be way too hard, they just wouldn’t be able to manage.

    I think that’s a load of bull.

    They would manage just fine, they just wouldn’t be able to live life the way they do now. It’s not like I make more than them – I get more student allowance, but that’s because I don’t live at home. Most of my friends work and most of them make around what I do. And few to none have any debt, where I still do (a little, which’ll be paid off by end of summer).

    It’s about priorities. They say they don’t have any household stuff. Well, you don’t need coffee tables, sofas, desks and chairs. Odds are you’re going to join an established flat as a flatmate – I don’t know why you would take on a tenancy straight out of home, or what the odds are of that happening without prior housing references. You won’t need all that stuff. And even if you sign on for a small unit or apartment, you won’t have room for most of that stuff. Living in our old apartment, the only furniture we had was a two seater couch – that’s all the space allowed for.

    Sure, you won’t get to buy clothes or shoes whenever you want. A couple of times a year, maybe. But that’s life, and if you want to move out bad enough you’ll learn to get by. You might not get to go to concerts or go on holidays or to RnV for New Year’s, but you really can’t have everything, not this early on in life (unless you’re a trust funder or crazy millionaire entrepreneur). You might have to watch your coffees or lunches and dinners out, eat beans and noodles every so often, let your sheets and towels get a bit ragged before replacing them. You might not be able to save much, if at all.

    But the point I’m trying to make it, it’s possible. Almost anyone can do it. It’s a matter of rethinking what’s important to you and simplifying things. You just won’t be able to live the life you got used to while living at home. Whether or not your parents support you in any way (apart from providing a roof and food) there are so many things you take for granted, and those are the things that change when you’re on your own.

  • The pursuit of money

    I was sitting in front of a Fijian and a Samoan guy on the bus the other day. They were talking about how great it was going back to visit because life over there is so different; it’s more laidback, there’s a sense of community, money is not as important and you don’t NEED it to get by as you do here.

    It sounds idyllic. But you know what, I don’t think I’d last long there. City life is stressful, and expensive, and sometimes it’s harsh and dangerous and downright disheartening, but I wouldn’t trade it in. The Pacific is top of my holiday list but it’s not really a lifestyle option.

    I think I value ambition and money and the buzz of the city (not that I’d want to live in the midst of it) and the insane variety of foods we now have here (y’all know how much I love to eat). I want to work hard and travel and obtain the trappings of middle class life eventually.

    Or have I just been brainwashed by the capitalist economy?