After my self-introspection in the previous post, I wonder if you would wonder, whether I think about rich people too much. Whether I complained too much about capitalism. Whether I criticize too much about consumerism. I wonder if you wonder.
Well, I think you do (wondering), and I think I do (paying too much attention to things that are none of my business).
Now I’m telling you.
Since I was a kid, I’ve always been thinking, that I’m the luckiest person in the world. I have great family, great grade, great amount of things I can laugh about, great words to say and write. My family is not a rich one, I would say, (it’s a bit hard to decide because we use money as variable, and money is something infinity, and infinity is just, abstract) we’re just in the middle. I went to school by public transportation. We have our own car, but we don’t have chauffeur.
We could afford another car, honestly. Maybe cash, maybe we could pay in installment. We just could, but my parents decided not to, and I’ve never been a spoiled type. I didn’t ask for a car (until recently), and I never suggest that we should have a chauffeur. Instead, I take the bus. I take the train. I take angkutan kota. I (seldom) take the taxi. Sometimes I’m tired of standing on the bus, of traffic jam, of the sun burning off everything but the dust.
But I live the life. I see the reality. How people struggle through the morning. How the fresh-graduates seek for jobs. How the vegetables are brought to the market. How uncountable plastic glass and bottle and wrapper becomes the rubbish at the end of the day. How the kids, with excitement, chase their dreams, and later they forget it, choosing cigarettes and whatever to be written on the walls. How zero option the city leaves for the pedicab drivers. How old and sad some people that I think they’d better be at home soon.
I see them, maybe just like you do.
So when I see the magazines, or enter the mall, just because I can afford them, or just because I have to do them, and have my own life, I just can’t leave the other part of my life. It haunts me, but unfortunately it is not thriller. It saddens me, but unfortunately it is not drama. It is irony. How some people pull the cart all day just for the price of a cup of tea. A cup of coffee. A gulp of wine. A bite of roast duck. How some people spend the same amount of some other people’s income of a whole month, just for a pair of original rubber shoes with alligator logo, and they complain about life. It is irony for me, for both are real, and both are my life.
I know life is unfair. There is yin, there is yang. There is day, there is night. I’m in the middle of them and I’m going nowhere. I can see both sides like they are transparent but actually separated. Then life leaves me here. Thinking. Be sad when it is sad. Complain when they ask for way too much more, and the other else only get less than none.
Complain when some people go busy busy busy wanting exact pieces of fashion items for the sake of the trends, while some others only have washed out clothes from flea market with the same amount of days in a week. And it’s not one sided judgment.
Oh, well. I already told the conclusion on the previous post. This is only a late prologue of a self-introspection.
I only wonder of you really wonder.
It’s similar with one of my past post. Maybe I just like this kind of life stuff.