Well hey there friends, remember me? I'm that slacker who can't manage one measly blog post per month. Aren't I just the worst? Shouldn't I have a really good excuse for not showing up even once in the entire month of January? If I told you I was off feeding starving children in Africa, would you believe me? No? What if I said I've just been in a funk and have been devoting my weeknights to my couch and my weekends to tequila? Sound more like me? Aww, you guys know me too well. It's clearly door number 2 which is just this side of absolutely ridiculous, given the obscene state of spoiled I'm currently residing in.
We all know I grew up in blue collar country and had the privilege of living on the fortunate side of the middle class fence, meaning I never went to bed hungry, rocked some seriously awesome Gap outlet attire and went on vacations where we could afford campsites with running water and electricity. Let me be incredibly clear here, this was a good life. I know most people in this world are not as fortunate, which is the point I'm getting to... eventually.
Silicon Valley is a bizarre environment mainly removed from reality. On Planet Fortunate we eat local organic food, travel to exotic places semi-annually, and drive luxury SUVs. Teenagers decide which top-tier college they'll go to based on proximity to ski resorts, real estate exchanges hands like baseball cards and everyone knows what a 401k is. It's that thing they have to fall back on in case the pre-IPO start-up they're at does NOT end up making them a gazillionaire. It's a strange place for someone like me who, up until a few years ago, thought if you'd ever been to Europe and/or drove a vehicle with leather seats you were loaded.
I don't want to dwell on how disturbed I am about the mentality of the general public around me. They've got their own diamond encrusted, trust fund problems to deal with. Today I want to talk about what an asshole I am as I find myself complaining about "heavy traffic", "crowded gyms" and my "stressful job". Really? Life sure must be rough what with my 30 minute commute, luxury fitness center and gainful employment. Out here on the west coast I've begun to forget what it was like working minimum wage, scraping together quarters for laundry and wondering how I was going to pay the heat bill come January. I think I could benefit from a little perspective to set me straight.
This morning a song popped into my head and I found it so fitting, it sparked my ambition for this post. When I was a kid my father used to play this record and it always made me feel so good. It's incredibly easy to convince yourself you've got it rough. It's even easier to give yourself license to complain about how rough you've got it. I think Joe Dulce had the right idea. I hope that the next time I start to feel annoyed or unhappy or just generally pissed I'll be able to stop and take a step back from the situation. I'll remind myself that itsa not so bad, itsa nica place if I'm even thinking of bitching about whatever minuscule injustice I'm suffering at the moment, I'll just be happy and shut uppa my face.