the american dream

I think one of the most telling things about our culture is the constant insistence on the “American dream.”

You know–the two story house, 2.6 kids, floppy-eared family dog, happy husband/loving wife, and secure job (all of which your next-door neighbor will hopefully be envious of you for, because that makes it so much better). But does it really have anything to do with how many kids you have enclosed in your white picket fence? I really think we put that idea on such a pedestal because we genuinely think that if only we can achieve a certain standard, we would be happy. Or at least happier. That somehow our problems would disappear if things were different, instead of understanding that those problems would probably follow us no matter what house we lived in unless we deal with them. We think more money, less risk, and more stuff would keep us living in bliss for years.

I want to be challenged. I want to try everything and figure out how it works. I want to change something besides the color of my dining room every few years. I want every day to be different than the day before it. I don’t want to always know how tomorrow is going to turn out. I want to appreciate people and surround myself with friends who will push me. I don’t know that I would mind a little risk in my life, because maybe it has nothing to do with what situation you find yourself in so much as who you find yourself with.

I want appreciate life and find happiness in the strangest places.