See the World...

Day to day
Where do you want to be?
'Cause now you're trying to pick a fight
With everyone you meet

You seem like a soldier
Who's lost his composure
You're wounded and playing a waiting game
In no-man's land no-one's to blame

See the world
Find an old fashioned girl
And when all's been said and done
It's the things that are given, not won
Are the things that you want

Empty handed, surrounded by a senseless scene
With nothing of significance
Besides a shadow of a dream
You sound like an old joke
You're worn-out, a bit broke
An' askin me time and time again
When the answer's still the same

See the world
Find an old fashioned girl
And when all's been said and done
It's the things that are given, not won
Are the things that you want

You've got a chance to put things right
So how's it going to be?
Lay down your arms now
And put us beyond doubt
So reach out it's not too far away
Don't mess around now, don't delay

"See the World" - Gomez

When I was in high school, I would have given up an arm, leg, and my firstborn kid to be an exchange student. It wasn't possible; only the divine providence of a scholarship could have even brought the matter into question, and even then I would have had to gird for battle against my mother's irrefutable (at least unproveable) You're Too Young with uncertain chances of success. Needless to say, I didn't go; in hindsight, I can't exactly argue that her argument was invalid or that it had destroyed any chance I had of going to Europe. In fact, it hardened my resolve to go anyways: as soon as my parent's Not In Highschool edict expired I took off (with their full support). Perhaps the additional age and wisdom gained between the time I would have gone (11th grade) and the time I did go (just after graduating) has made all the difference; but that is not my point.

As I was longing for Europe in my little home town, I met several other students whose parents had offered them this opportunity--the opportunity after which I had long been lusting and which excruciatingly remainded elusive--and these students didn't take it. I was completely dumbfounded by the conception that there are people who do not want to go abroad; given that that was my sole and overreaching desire, I found it hard to comprehend with an alternative so contrary to my worldview.

In the intervening years (all three of them) I would claim to have become more tolerant of others' perspectives; I can't expect everyone to prefer to not buy clothes in order to have money to travel. I had a coworker once who preferred to spend his paycheck on nights on the town; others who save up for a stereo or a game console. I ask why these people don't save. "What for?" "to travel," I reply. It seemed so obvious to me, but that what I consider "selbstverständlich" is not a universal given. For an alternative, I spend (or can expect to spend) between 50 and 75% of my time in my house or car; why, then, should these not be improved to the best of my financial ability?

As I am yet again faced with the seemingly monumental and unsurmountable task of packing up my life (again) for the purpose of moving (again) across the atlantic, I am almost unwillingly coerced into a reflection on the value of material things. As anyone who has lived any period of time out of a suitcase (or better yet, out of a backpack) knows well, it doesn't take much to survive. The definition of "need" goes on a diat and regains its true shape, and simple luxuries of (in my case) a couch or (in the case of a trekker) a hot shower inspire a deep and profound appreciation which cannot be felt if you have this experience at your beck and call. It is almost a corollary of "absence makes the heart go fonder"; you only appreciate the beauty of your home by leaving it, you only appreciate your loved ones when they are away, and the little things you took for granted are the things you miss the most. The number of possessions required for basic sustainance is astoundingly small, and the number or quantity of possessions to feel at home somewhere is also remarkably minimal.

A recent study on happiness came to the conclusion that, if you had $5000 to spend, you will be a happier person if you take a vacation than if you buy a car. Logically, it seems counterintuitive, as you will own this car much longer than your vacation experience. However, the car will eventually deteriorate, and you will be left with a shadow of your former happiness, possibly a financial burden, and doors/buttons/air conditioning/engines that don't work. A vacation, on the other hand, provides you with a concrete, definite and finite memory which you will always (providing no early-onset alzheimers) be able to recall and which should provide you with lasting enjoyment.

I'm not sure what would make me happy; actually, most of the time I am certain I am happy without feeling the necessity of defining a cause. Still, trinkets become more a burden than a treasure, and I appreciate them for the thought in their giving often more than for their own properties. On the other hand, I miss having a room decorated to my comfort and not just to my convenience and my means.