Materialism

ma·te·ri·al·ism
n.

1. Philosophy. The theory that physical matter is the only reality and that everything, including thought, feeling, mind, and will, can be explained in terms of matter and physical phenomena.
2. The theory or attitude that physical well-being and worldly possessions constitute the greatest good and highest value in life.
3. A great or excessive regard for worldly concerns.
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Every day you learn something new. Just when you think you know it all, have seen it all, life throws a new one at you. And sometimes these lessons aren't the kind that can be neatly summed up in sing-songy phrases people teach their children.

At the ripe old age of 25, the shock of friends getting married, buying houses and popping babies is slowly wearing off. It's a rite of passage. We may still be living in a rented apartment without a dishwasher, and the word 'baby' conjures images of a raisin with flailing arms and legs in E's head, but we know we'll be ready for a house, closing cost and mortgage and all, with mini-me's running around and wrecking it, some day.

Last Saturday we visited with some friends at their townhouse; every time we visit, there's always something new, whether it's new wall color and fixtures, a new 17" iMac, or a home theater in the basement. This time, however, we were certainly not expecting to see a black 6-ft grand piano in the middle of the living room. It complemented the charm of the room well, except for the scale of size, which made the house feel a whole lot smaller and us, the hobbits dwelling in it. I mean, the piano was huge. At first I thought somebody had left it in their care for the summer (now that idea seems ludicrous), but they confirmed that it was their newest baby. Apparently, they have been looking for a few months - second-hand, decent condition, budget around... oh, $10,000.

(I could go on a wordy tangent about what I would do with ten grand, but whatev, to each his own. The point is that even I, the crazy piano geek all through school and been playing since I was 4, would think twice about spending that kind of money on a piano. Well okay, so I have a piano too, but a 6-ft grand is a far cry from a Clavinova, and I only spent a fraction of that amount.)

As we sat around sipping Pinot Grigio, E noticed the fridge looked different. Guess what? That's new too - not that there was anything wrong with the old one. The French door stainless steel baby must've cost a pretty penny. We migrated to the basement, where the home theater was now stocked with 10 plush chairs to maximize the 'theater' experience; to make room for the chairs, the $1,500 sleeper sofa must go.

Enter the Green-Eyed Monster. Questions form. Both of them are making very comfortable salaries, but they are still our peers, and I can't fathom how they got ahead so far so quickly. All this.. stuff, and no debt in sight. How do they do it? What aren't we doing right? Everybody knows the post-graduation checklist that goes job/spouse/house/family (or some permutation), but I'm also aware now that I missed the memo about the other checklist, the more subtle one, that goes piano/pad-pimpin'/pool (perhaps?). We don't even own a place yet, so the idea of dropping ten grand on a piano sends my mind reeling.

It's a befuddling emotion: drooling envy, mixed with guilt that I'm equating stuff with happiness and success, dabbled with a little fear that I won't ever have that luxury myself. The house and kids will come in time, I'm fairly certain, but I'm not sure if the piano, pool and German convertible will ever come at all. Or should they matter? Needless to say, this lust could be good and bad - good that it fans my motivation to work harder in the name of a better life, bad that it could only lead me down a path of hollow and insatiable greed.

And the quarter-life crisis rages on...