Before I begin writing about money I would like to introduce you to the background I came from.
I was raised in a village near the capital of our country. I was born only one year after my homeland became independent from soviet union. And because of soviet union was collapsing, everyone was poor. Later I was told by history teacher that not everyone, few local communist party heads(well, more marionettes) and mobsters were rich, but there were times, when business was illegal, and since you are in the environment, where capitalism is sin, everyone is poor and those, who are considered rich have less than top notch western middle class.
So, I grew up in house with two rooms and one kitchen. No one on this earth would not build house that small, so it is natural that for soviet mentality it was too big and divided by two. The house itself was build by Jews before WW2, later on these Jews were killed, and house belonged to soviet state. It was divided in two parts and given away to poor people and community workers. I don't know who lived in there before us, but in late 80s first part-one bedroom and kitchen was given to single mother with 6 children, and my mother(with my father and me) who worked as literature teacher in local school for juveniles.
My father did not finished university, because my mother became pregnant too early, and mother struggled between two jobs. Father was free-lancing, and he managed to start business of gravestone forging, but he failed in less than six months. My two twin brothers came 4 years later and it was another nail in our financial coffin. We were poor. We were living in 60 years old wooden house, which had two rooms and improvised kitchen with no water and plumbing.
Sometimes I have flashbacks of me pissing at night into bucket in kitchen, and later night same bucket flew into my father who came drunk in middle of the night. Or that time, when our well froze and mother melted snow on the stove to make us soup. Fuck! I don't know how I could manage to live and not kill myself in place of my parents. But it was the times when capitalism was non existent and snickers bar could be found for the price of four days salary (because it was rare, not because it was starvation, the food was never a huge problem, unless we buy domestic goods).
Enough background for today.
Money - the root of all evil
Is it? Maybe I am questioning because I never had problems, created by too much money (until my first salary). Or maybe, me and my family always used to have problems by not having enough money and it looked like all of our problems would go away if we had additional hundred or thousand in our pocket?
For some time I really thought, that money is solution. Until I had my first office job, where I earned more than enough. So what I did? I raised my standards, bought new toys and thats it. My quality of live improved, but I was same poor kid, only in brand new 500€ suit and Moet in glass.
I understand rappers, covered with gold. When you come from poor family and you succeed, you want everyone around you know that. Maybe because you want to show how much you achieved, maybe you want to inspire poor kids to not give up, or maybe you want others to be envious.
\Why the hell I want millions? Why I want to be someone, who is making 100k in one day? Why the hell I want a mansion?
Whenever I look to our old picture albums, I feel that its my time to have a revenge with money. Its my time to buy my mom a ticket around the world, stop my father from breaking his ass off and let everyone else I love and care about to do whatever they like, because they deserve it. Because they worked hard and honestly, but their qualification, ambitions and current market was not in their favor.
I remember when my mother was crying, because wall near my bed was starting to grow mold and it caused me breath problems, she knew she couldn't do anything, because of lack of money. But who knows, maybe because of too much money she would be crying that father is doing coke with underage strippers, or because some other things rich people cry about. But the point is, that there are extremes in both sides, and its up to you to choose what will you cry about.
While writing this, I always was thinking about YOU. How did you find this post? Was it interesting? Did you felt well, sorry or angry while reading this? If you found that not interesting, and you think its total crap, pleae accept my appologies. I might not be a good writer, while writing I had too many flashbacks, sometimes wanting to share too much with you. Sorry if I waisted your time, I will try to improve. Come back later after one year, see my last post and tell me if my writing improved. Because thats the point of this blog. I want to improve, reinvent myself and I believe that writing will help me to organize and track my goals, and who knows, maybe you could help me.
Honest, and peaceful,
Saul Zelig
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