No, I haven't won the lot­tery or any­thing. And no, it's not be­cuse I'm in love (but I am). It's just that I look at the 33 years I have spent around and no­tice that:

I have nev­er had any­thing re­al­ly ter­ri­ble hap­pen to me. Sure, small prob­lem­s, even large prob­lem­s, but no stuff like loss of a lim­b.

I have nev­er been re­al­ly poor. Mind you, many read­ing this live in places where be­ing poor means you have to ask for wel­fare (which I haven't), but here, be­ing re­al­ly poor means you die sleep­ing in the street. Or you go to prison and rot. Or you watch your own chil­dren starve.

Sure, I've had days when I did­n't have enough to buy the news­pa­per. But I still had food in the fridge (and a fridge), and a roof to put the fridge un­der.

I have nev­er been un­em­ployed. Sure, I don't have a job that pays ev­ery mon­th, but I earn my own mon­ey, and haven't had to ask any­one for any­thing in a very long while, ex­cept as a very short term loan.

I like what I do. It's easy (at least for me), leaves me enough days off to be with Rosar­i­o, is not phisi­cal­ly ex­haust­ing. Usu­al­ly it's done in air-­con­di­tioned of­fices. It lets me ra­tio­nal­ize my crav­ing for gad­gets as job-re­lat­ed.

I man­aged to ride some of the worse times in this coun­try's his­to­ry and come out on my feet.

I am not dead in­sid­e.

I don't give a damn about stuff that's un­de­serv­ing.

I still feel a need to help peo­ple when I can, but I can live with not help­ing those I can't. I have ac­cept­ed I can't save ev­ery­one, so I try to save the ones I can, yet I don't for­get the rest.

I haven't fall­en in­to re­li­gion, na­tion­al­is­m, pol­i­tic­s, greed, or any of the mul­ti­ple traps that grab you and don't let you be a re­al hu­man.

My fam­i­ly is well, with the usu­al al­lowances for hu­man trou­ble, and I ac­tu­al­ly like each one of them.

All in al­l, I'm a fuck­ing lucky son of a bitch.