Think, Deepa, think

this made me think. read it. hopefully, it makes you stop in your tracks for a while.

i envy this young man, and i can barely believe that he is my age. i envy him because to him, the word revolution is not the shallow, much-abused marketing buzzword (a "revolutionary" cellphone, a "revolutionary" MP3 player, a "revolutionary" party, a video game "revolution") that it has degenerated into, but something real and thriving and worth dedicating your life to.

i envy him for seeing the value of being "a leader or a soldier, cook, health worker, driver, technician and a marriage counselor." all those rolled into one is something that you can be proud of, as my friends who describe themselves as "full-time wives and mothers" are proud. excuse me, but what pride is to be found in being an "eventologist" or "socialite"?

i envy him for his meaningful existence. how many people our (his and my) age find that much meaning in our pursuits? even his dissatisfaction is meaningful, for it prods him to action. but what of the inherent, and far more subtle, dissatisfaction that comes with working our asses off to fill our endless stream of wants? another moving youngblood piece quotes an old beggar saying, "appreciate what you have. don't ask for what you don't have. when God gives people an apple, they will ask for a dozen. when God gives them a dozen, they will ask for a sack."

i wanted to write out a christmas list, as so many bloggers seem to be doing around this time of year. but now i can't bring myself to do it (you want MORE stuff?). i've already got my dozen apples. is it so hard to conceive living without the sack.

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no, this does not mean that i'm about to run off to the mountains. but it does have something significant to say about what i want out of life and how i'm framing my goals.

for instance, i wanted to post how inspired i felt by anna netrebko, who put a glamorous face to my dream.

You see?" she says in heavily accented, broken English, pointing excitedly to the Escada Shop. "They will dress me next year. They see me sing and say they will give me the dress for the performances." On a Saturday in November, Ms. Netrebko's look is chic in a quirky, casual way: a clingy black off-the-shoulder top, pink iridescent Dior wraparound sunglasses and a plush duffel in the shape of a stuffed leopard.

i told some people that this spurred a greater desire in me to work hard not just to achieve my dream, but to become wildly successful and filthy rich besides. "can't think of a better motivation than that: all-you-can-wear free designer clothes!" i crowed, only half joking. talking about the future and all that we want to do and have, marlon often jokes that i had better become a filthy rich diva, so i can support him as a poor economics professor or policymaker.

think, deepa, think. it's not about the clothes, stupid. it's not about the money. it's about the music. the moment it becomes about anything else, what damage i will have done my dream.

perhaps as much about my struggle as his, diego martinez (author of the youngblood piece above) remarks: "you will not become a millionaire but then your priorities have changed."

then he adds, "who wants to be rich anyway when the rest of your countrymen hardly eat in a day?"

(this week's batch of youngblood contributions is quite good. this was simply the one that resounded with something inside me, built up by weeks and weeks of monitoring local current events.)