I have a friend, I'll call him Harold. Although I really like Harold as a friend, I really hate visiting him. He's got this awesome house in a really nice neighborhood, with a fantastic view of the city below and the ocean. Although his place isn't a mansion, and he bought it many years ago when real estate was cheaper, I always get depressed after I visit. The place is gorgeous, bright and sunny, and I'll never own anything like it. Although I'm really happy for Harold's success, it makes me sad when I look at my own situation and wonder if I will ever be able to make it better.
It's not that I want Harold's house, or even a house exactly like his. It's just a reminder that I am not doing nearly as well I'd like, and certainly not as well my parents, and there are a lot of things I don't have. I drive a beater, Harold drives a fancy european car, though in his defense it's a few years old.
I've gotten to the point where I really hate to go shopping, even if it's for things like groceries, because I walk through aisles and aisles of things I can't afford or shouldn't waste my money on. There's lots of stores that are basically off limits, including book stores, electronic stores, and even the local Wal-Mart, unless I'm shopping from a list. Although I used to love to eat out in restaurants, I don't enjoy it anymore because I'm constantly thinking about the bill that will be coming at the end of the meal. It's just not fun anymore!
I keep reminding myself thou shalt not covet, and trying to remind myself that I should be grateful for what I do have. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly, and a huge portion of the world's population doesn't even have that much. Even so, it's really hard to be part of white, middle-class America, and being stuck on the sidelines, watching the American Dream pass me by.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
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