Mostly why? Because much of it is temporary, mostly transitional, and quite possibly could all vanish within a matter of seconds.
I've discovered that it's very rare that one can hear the news of another and instead of wondering why they haven't attained the same thing, simply be happy for the other person... and if they *do* want the same condition or circumstance, work toward aligning their priorities to something more condusive to that achievement.
It's natural to immediately reflect inward and wonder why another's fortune isn't realized similarly by ourselves. It's not a gift to behave otherwise, it's a matter of conditioning; the brutal honesty with yourself that whatever you want you can get but you will have to bust your ass for whatever it might be.
Shit doesn't just fall in your lap. This is the biggest issue I have with bUU at the moment. He honestly believes that what he wants to do with his life is going to just plop right in front of him obviously. Like the way success happens is by chance, by luck, without absolutely anything to do with bull headed persistence.
I obviously do not take that romantic of an approach toward life, thankfully... because it's paying off.
My reply to him is and has always been this:
You know what you want, in your case money and things, so since you don't know how you want to do it, you optimize your choice by analyzing the fastest ways to travel from point A to point B. Innitially it sounds a hell of a lot more simple than it is, because whatever you choose will take blood, sweat, and tears in place of excuses. In other words, pick a fucking direction and run.
I get angry when I think about him at the moment. Mostly because of how much I care about the sorry piece of shit. Then I remember that all of everything concerning him is completely out of my hands, as it always has been, and I get back to work on what affects me.
The most fascinating thing about all of this is though, when you stay occupied enough to where time begins folding and the months turn into just days... you begin seeing things, patterns, behaviour... and you begin to see people not as how they present themselves but as cross sections of sliced sedementary character telling the true story, in all of it's beauty, in all of it's glory, and in all of it's horribly vulgar pain.