As I am writing this, it is 2 am, Christmas Eve, in Osaka, Japan. The Male is groggily dozing and I just peered across the blinking skyline, listlessly teetering in a drunken, holiday stupor that is unique to Osaka and only Osaka. I am writing because I’m inspired at 32 years of age, but my inspiration is not a Japanese compilation of Bill Murray, ‘Lost in Translation’ moments. There is no Sophia Coppola. There is no make up crew. Just my lonesome, jet lagged self remembering why I am here in the first place and why being here soothes my soul; at 32 years of poverty and struggle, a myriad of death and poor health I can say that the American values instilled were only half right. Liberty is more than having the platform to shout. Freedom is more than going where you want. Wealth is not an advertisement of the things you own and Fame is worthless if it does not elevate those around you.
In transit to Tokyo, a TSA agent spoke to the Male and I about our vacation plans and was visibly shocked when we told where we were going. How can a black woman and a biracial man possibly afford a half month trip to Japan? And at such a young age of 30 and 32? The Male gently smiled, stating this was our third time; our first was at 27 and 25. The officer’s partner edged close and gave us the typical TSA grimace the world has come to know and love, though his eyes betrayed his post and twinkled with curiosity. What was the secret? Why were these people not stereotypes seen stealing from Walmart on the news. How could it be they spoke with eloquence and how could they afford to travel overseas when the dollar is low and everything else is so high?
“It’s nice to have no debt.” I softly stated, unzipping my boots and placing them a battered plastic bin to be scanned.
“We believe in purchasing experiences, not things.” The Male commented, taking off his belt.
Both men winced. They were at least 10 years our senior. We moved on and they watched us go.
The Male and I are on a road less traveled; a road that does not gauge one’s worth on the shade of the skin, or the outward appearance of wealth. Do we have shun the idea of non-existent racism, or classism or outside forces, trying to dictate how to separate us from what we earned using images of envy that questions our self worth? Of course not, but the best way to play the game is to know the unwritten rules and walk away from the table if the price is too high. Conformity at the cost of individuality and self esteem no longer appeals to us. Above is a bullet train ticket from Tokyo to Osaka. We both witnessed the glory Mt. Fuji and the Kansai country side, something seemingly reserved for the affluent and the wealthy. We are neither. We are just two kids who understand that being American is not based off of European standards, advertisements and wobbily politics. Being American doesn’t entitle one to be rich nor famous. Why would anyone want such a burden anyway if it will not elevate those around them?
We believe in good food, laughter, learning, making things that help people and not being a burden when we are old. A frugal life does not mean a devoid life. You know, the American way.
Experiences over stuff.
People over expectations.