Poor

Do you compare yourself to others?  [Don't answer. Rhetorical question.]

Many people have told me they grew up poor but didn't know they were poor.

Of course, in those conversations, we were mainly healthy middle-class residents talking in comfortable office conditions.

Those same people held a similar facial gesture that spoke of nostalgic trips back into time, with farm chores, country store duties and newspaper routes remembered fondly.

Despite their possessions and place in society, they wouldn't say they were better off emotionally than before.

Makes me wonder...

It's not where you are or what you have that makes you happy with who you are.

Owning nine new toys that every kid on the block has does not make you appreciate the tenth any better.

Having no toys gives you an appreciation for the one toy you just received.

That's what being raised in a poor household gives you - simple love from your parents, friends and family, with no artificial buildup of self in a collection of possessions.

Perhaps that's why I've never understood the accumulation of wealth.

At the same time, I'm surrounded by stuff I bought that I didn't need in the first place.

Like being whirled around in a rotating door, my head spinning, hands reaching out to steady me and empty my pockets in a dance of forgotten partners and sensory overload.

I can't stop our species from the constant desire to provide a false sense of security and love of family/friends through climbing the social ladder in pursuit of quality and perfection.  That's just what many of us are programmed to do.

I can only be me.  I can only see that the latest electronic gizmo, although interesting and entertaining, doesn't have the same feel as a handshake or musty smell of an old novel.

I live in a quandary.  I live in a world of competition and there's no one I want to compete with/against.  I want to be me in the moment, whatever that may be.

That's why I have this new blog.  I don't want to be other people because I have no idea what motivates others.

I am me.  In fact, I am free to be me.  No deadlines or pressure to extract or produce a definition of me for others.

One day I'm a guy who likes to drink himself into a mild stupor.  Another day I'm the conservative guy who thinks we should all be soberly responsible for ourselves without emotionally/financially depending on others.  The next day I'm concerned we aren't providing enough support for those who can't care for themselves independently.  Some days I like the idea that religion provides a firm foundation and some days I think religion is a bunch of hooie.

And then a story idea comes to me and I write it down, always influenced by my surroundings in the moments preceding and the moments yet to appear.

Good.  My thoughts of despotism are cleared out.  I can return to my simple writing self again, pretending to live in a world in which our whole species cares for all its members and the ecosystems in which we live.  Hey, it's my fantasy - you go off and create your own if you want!