Last night, A and I were talking about how when we were seventeen, we had absolutely no money, no cars, not even a place of our own, but we weren’t any less happy than we are now.

I know it’s cliché as hell to say this, but we so don’t need most of the crap we surround ourselves with.

In Indonesia, I ate nothing but fruit and rice for months. Most of the time, the rice had ants in it. The average amount of money I spent daily was 13$ Canadian, for three meals, a private room and a rental motorcycle (including gas). I remember being awed when I set foot in Vancouver airport on my way back. There were so many different restaurants and boutiques, each with so many offerings. I didn’t think it was amazing, I thought it was grotesque.

I’ve somewhat calmed down since then. Truth is, I enjoy living in the city and driving a cool car. But still, when I feel the squeeze of the cubicle, I think about those people over there who lived off the sea and land, and spent the evening playing with their kids because there weren’t any TVs around. At those times, the fact that my life as a cubicle rat allows me to buy shades that match my car doesn’t provide much consolation.

Still, balance in all things. I’m not about to go Amish or anything. I remind myself that those people would probably trade places with me in a wink, and the fact that I didn’t get those Lord of the Rings fridge magnets doesn’t seem so bad.

Besides, the package doesn’t even include a Pippin magnet.