Push the control wheel: new year, same we!

“Everything is going to be alright”, – indifferent ones say with smile. They acquit themselves, lose faith facing the question: “Who is going to ensure luck?” The Congratulation: “Happy New Year!”, – will be said in billions of families. But who is going to pay for this?

The correct version of the folk saying: “Wishing does not make a poor man rich”. A lot of people, few resources– that is why it is not enough for everyone. Ask yourself: “Did I sign up for being a volunteer to try fortune or follow a desperate choir?” I will guess in a second – 98% did not get the phrase.

The main thing is to wish more, write smaller, burn down, throw in champagne and drink it with bells on. Quite convenient: did nothing, wasted time and a soft drink with ash inside is going to solve problems at once.

MMM pyramid of the destiny, self-deception, apartments with fictional billions. Would you give something to anyone for free? Then why do you think that this will work out? How come? Did you find the horn of plenty or get in line?

People from neighboring countries pig it in lats of our cities, working in shifts: one works – another sleeps. They work hard, feed their families and half of the village – they feel the responsibility. We with smart faces discuss the color of our smartphone cases.

Provincials share a homebuilt computer in the dorm, making awesome landing for capital fops. Eating ramen noodles saving for the first suit while “successful” ones are smoking at Vorobyevy Gory near the formerly great university.

Self-righteous matrons with cellulite and childish gentlemen discuss a TV show starting: “I do not usually watch TV series, but this one is something new!” Future champions are running miles through the streets in worn out sneakers.

These philosophers sometimes repost – such a useful action: does not require super skills and great courage. Do not ask for more: liked a post – donated a kidney. Also you can pass a test in Facebook and solemnly publish the result.

Somewhere in a village without gas and hot water a girl plays Mozart on an out of tune piano, learns languages and sings into hairbrush. A boy goes to school in his only shoes, chops wood, learns ballet moves till bloody blisters.

They do not expect for miracles and do not realize they are ones. We will praise them noticing: “Our motherhood raises talents”. We will skip efforts and persistence, with plain admiration along with bootleg vodka and cheap salad: “Horses have big heads – let them think, we have them for eating!”

Scream: “Break through!”, – and punch other’s injured shoulder. Each one – Joan of Arc, every one – Alexander Matrosov. Red shirts so no one can see blood, trousers – brown. Why? No one knows! Old tradition, perhaps.

We prefer psychologists to boxing bags, consultants to conversations with mothers. We give loaned phones and used jeeps to fathers. Parents understand it and forgive in advance: blood is not water, and a child is not an investment.

We look and do not see, promise without thinking, do without knowledge. We live in the great country. I am not big at the global scale, neither are you, where does this pride come from? Why are you being bloated by arrogance, vomited by conceit and stunk of hopes? Our fathers fly into outer space, granddads came through wars.

We are weeds in fertile lands, cling to displays, get mad. They do not care what to shout, surroundings are guilty: their right is our counter. We are spiritually rich – those who do not agree could kiss the ground. It smells like chocolate but it is not if you come closer.

Someone definitely will have a better day. Those who plough fields, sow and harvest. Those who wake up early to milk a cow, whip cream and sell butter. Those who melt wax and split honey. Those who wear out fingers on strings. And you? How come?

Feed your children with ambitions, pay parents with hopes, tell colleagues empathy. The same to you: verbal wealth, joke health and hilarious salary! New Year – an innocent holiday, date in the calendar, after that one we wait for the next one.

And when start to live, fight for happiness, please relatives?

Create not dream, do not chit-chat?

After a new year?

Which one?

Author: Oleg Braginsky

Translation: Marina Alexandrova

Source: New Retail