Yeah right!

I have this friend.

Everytime I talked to him, he would say he was unhappy.

I used to be like that. I used to look through magazines, stare at the TV, flip through web pages and be discontent with all the clothes I didn’t have, the culture I couldn’t grasp, the beauty I wasn’t born with, the money I could only hope to possess by winning the lottery. Which reminds me, he was hoping to win the lottery the last time we talked.

But all the time you lose researching trends and browsing online stores is only that, lost time. Time you lost realizing all of the things you aren’t and don’t have. The pursuit of materialistic nirvana is fun, but you have to remember celebrities, models are paid to dress well and look good–we’re not.

I have this other friend.

She is always unhappy too, but she’s not looking for fame or riches. She just wants to find someone to marry, settle down and have kids before 30. To most of us, this sounds pretty strange, pretty contradictory to the modern world we live in on the West coast.

But I’m kind of domesticated right now and I kind of like it. Clearly speaking, I enjoy the sense of fulfillment you get from housework. The smell of freshly folded laundry, the gleaming white of a clean toilet bowl, the comfort of the couch after a filling meal and the dishes done. Maybe I’m just an intellectual deadbeat.

There comes a point in time in everyone’s life where some things just don’t matter anymore. You can love the way you feel in your banging new outfit, but nothing compares to the warmth of family. You can feel great after a successful day of shopping, but nothing feels greater than accomplishing something with your bare hands - redoing the living room, helping your brother finish a school project, cooking a dinner that’s liked by everyone. You can have hundreds of friends on Facebook and bump into somebody you know everywhere you go, but what’s that worth compared to having just one friend you can count on to pick up the phone at the end of the day and listen to you rant?

Maybe you’re the first friend and have a closet that exemplifies materialistic nirvana. Maybe you’re the second friend and have friendships like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Or maybe you’re both and have as many reliable people on speed dial as Louboutins on your shoe rack.

But I have this friend.

And she has neither.