I have just eaten two fudgesicles, and am about to eat a “family” sized pizza. It is 11:20pm. My drink, a lime glass of luke-warm Gatorade, will wash this meal of deliciousness down and help ensure that I’m both hydrated and full of electrolights while I sleep. And, believe me, sleep I will.
Recently, I mentioned in a previous post that I’m doubting my ability to get into a Ph.D. Program. That position hasn’t changed drastically, but I went and talked to a professor about a mark I’d received. A mark that was pretty low, and was in a class that I had thought I was pretty darn smart in. It was a very encouraging experience. He expressed quite clearly that I was among the brighter students in the class, and that he felt that the class hadn’t been structured exactly the way he would do it in the future. He has given me another change to revise one of my assignments.
And, while I’m aware that one grade isn’t going to drastically alter my future, I did leave the meeting feeling much better. Even happy.
In turn, my happiness got me to thinking about life in general. This was my conclusion: I have been blessed far beyond any reasonable measure of fairness. Any attempt to recount all the ways that I have been blessed, would falter and inevitably leave both things, and people out. Here are some of the most important blessings:
1) I was born a Canadian Citizen, and into an upper-middle class (or perhaps lower-upper class) home.
2) I have never been sick, faced hunger, or been in want of anything at any time in my life.
3) I have parents who love me, and who have done their best at being good parents.
4) I have never been abused: physically, emotionally, or sexually.
5) I am attractive.
6) I am intelligent.
7) I have good friends. People who I can lean on when I’m falling, and people who help me when I stumble.
I don’t want to dwell–but my life has primarily been one of privilege. I certainly haven’t done anything to be here, and I certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t try to defend anyone who said I deserved to be where I am.
I have been blessed. And, I don’t often remember it.
I do, however, often get lost in what else I want, think I need, or wish was so. One might even say that I live with a sense of entitlement. I expect to get a job that pays well. I expect to own a home, a car, be married, go on vacations, eat, and be healthy.
I don’t expect to come on hard times. I don’t expect to work multiple jobs to make ends meet, like my grandfather did. I expect to earn more than my father. It sounds shocking, but at twenty nine I’m somewhat surprised that I’m not famous, and rich. I had always just assumed that when I grew up I would be, regardless of what I did.
The feeling of entitlement is a dangerous thing, and it is one that I would be wise to resist. My grandparents, and parents certainly had and have no such feeling. I should not be so arrogant as to think that my life is substantially or categorically different from the millions who came before me. Nor should I be so foolish as to think that the wealth that my grandparents and parents have come to enjoy came easily, or without hard work, being frugal, and saving.
D.R.T.
