I’m sitting on my balcony, looking at the full moon hanging over the mountains. It’s a beautiful summer evening. The breeze is blowing, the mountains look majestic; just as described in our country’s patriotic songs they are shroud in purple and pinks as the day has come to an end. So I sit on my balcony in the desert breeze, listening to my dog calmly breath in and out at my feet, and I think how lucky I am.
I complain a lot. I complain about my job, my boss, my co-workers, about the amount of money (or lack there of) I have in my bank account, about how stressed out I am all the time, about my grades, my car, about stupid, stupid men and dating in general, and basically how crappy my life is. But the truth is, I’m one lucky woman.
I’m in my early 20’s and I live alone with my dog, in a one bedroom apartment, in a nice neighborhood with a private balcony. I have a good job that pays well while I’m in school and it’s in the research field, something I want to do for the rest of my life. I just got back from Mexico and didn’t contract a G.I. bug! I have a beautiful horse, an animal that some people never have the oppurtunity to be near their entire lives. I am able to travel regularly (maybe not as regularly as I’d like too…). I have a wonderful family and friends.
So, I may be tight with money sometimes and be late on a few payments here and there or have to go without food in my fridge for a week or two (believe me it’s happened). Or even have to put up with arrogant co-workers, or a micro-manager in an office (ugh!), but at least I’m not living in a crowded house with a bunch of irresponsible stoners by night and taking people’s lunch orders at McDonald’s by day, right?
