What The Heck?

I'm taking a break from homework to ramble. Enjoy the fruits of a restless mind.

One day, I will write a post about the things I enjoy, I promise. I enjoy a lot of things and I'm actually, contrary to popular belief, fairly pleasant. I'm also very comma happy.

I work with a lady. A very weird one. Her husband makes a gajillion dollars, she works part-time, and lives in a very fancy home. She drives a Benz and buys incredibly expensive designer purses whose price would make some people I know (including me) throw up several times. She is lavish and buys $50 a yard fabric and such. I'm not gonna hate, that's her prerogative. But here's what I don't understand: She's CHEAP! Can someone please explain this to me? I really didn't know until I grew up that rich people are pretty cheap. You would think that generosity would grow exponentially, not linearly, with increased income. Apparently not. Like how can someone who buys a $95 purse and thinks it's a deal fret over $3? This is a concept that I don't understand whatsoever, and it's making me nauseous thinking about it.

In America, for example, the most generous people, in terms of ratio of money donated to income, are the poor. Is this a faith issue? Is it because the numbers are so big? I don't know.

What I do know, however, is that I really hate cheapness and miserliness. It's ok to be careful with your money, but sometimes what you lose to save it is worth more than the money itself. And if it's not even a matter of being careful, and you are just counting every penny, I think you suck. And that is MY prerogative :)

Second Issue:

I really wish people would revisit the value of strength of character. I wish they would pick themselves up and move on. I absolutely love people with a fighting spirit. And not to say that strong people are rough and mean, because being strong and being merciful aren't contradictory. They can live together. My dad for example, is a sword of justice. Very heavy words, but I exaggerate not. He is the most morally upright person I know. He isn't afraid to speak his mind, and definitely not afraid to lay down some law. At the same time, he is the biggest softy on the face of the earth. He cries more than normal for a man his age, and never hesitates to admit when he's wrong-he says that's being a man. He also knows me better than any of my friends, or even my mom.

Looking back at last year, around this time, he did me the biggest favor anyone could do for me. He challenged me. It's around recovery time, and I'm just a mess. I can't move, can't talk, and can't eat. My muscles are completely debilitated from being in a rotating bed for 2 weeks, and I can't even lift my arms. So what does my dad do? He hands me tissues, makes me shake his hand, and doesn't let people do things for me. When I can finally eat, he doesn't let anyone help me. My food was pretty nasty and cold by the time I could finally get a system going, but he didn't care. I had to brush my teeth by myself, even if that meant using one arm to hold up the other. I know it was hard for him to do that, but he knows me and knows that's what I needed. Don't get me started on the walking!!

Sorry for the detour, but here's what I was talking about originally. People are weak these days and we are really so focused on the minor details that we forget the big things. We don't have the sense of responsibility and courage we should have.

I think I'm thinking about this because because I'm reading a lot of Social Justice books right now and I'm very annoyed with brattiness. Societally or interpersonally, I don't like it.

I will end on this note: I warned you in the pretext that this was going to be ramble. Second, I'm going to see my cousins this weekend and I'm really excited :) Eid Mubarak!