A Life in A Bubble

The guilt on becoming vegetarian, environmentalist, and traveller.

“The bursting bubble in my head”. Was taken in Pink Beach, Komodo islands, Indonesia.

It started by the moment you analyze everything around you. Nothing changes after all. To the best of my knowledge, as a 21 year-old man, I discovered that what truly changes is me, these millions of cells that consciously execute my command.

I can’t seem to press the brake pedal at times when I find myself disagreeing most of the points thrown at the table of a conversation with someone. If you have ever met me in person and our conversation leads to something within my knowledge, not only will I shut up for five minutes and stab you after you find out that you got your facts wrong, but I also have an increasing tendency to bring this perspective to everyone I meet later, highly influenced by my previous experience.

I’ve arrived at the state where these little things have a bit influence in my decisions to treat people. One afternoon, I had a privilege to discuss something with a boorish Indonesian minister in his office, he mentioned a few points about Arts and education, which none of what he mentioned was relevant at all to the aggressiveness of the youth in the country, sparking and reaching out to the lowest end of our society. He was just dilatory to me, to most of us who actively seeking alternatives for this issue. I had reached my high-pitched tone, then I realized something: he is not the minister of education, and he is not me. I searched and discovered his biography. As it turned out, he had the privilege to enjoy the world-class education in the west and had only lived in the country he is working for for only five years. On the other hand, he made his way to his seat today. His life scene would be very unlikely for those who had to cross a life-or-death river at 6am every day when you were 8 or 9 just to memorize A,B,C,D and learn to write a sentence. But these unlocked potentials are the ones who have bled and breathed the air of their own land. 15 years from where they are today, they barely stand a chance to climb to the next ladder in their career.

Humans have the ability to change, for the better and the worse. It strongly entails the values I choose to believe, which lead to my actions, to how I treat people, to the creation of my bubble. Yes, a bubble that we praise. We forget that we view things in life through different lenses. A bubble I never wish I’d bursted. Maybe, this is how I began blowing bubbles:

I hate mainstream.

I don’t like people telling others not to give a penny to a suffered mother or a dancing child in costume in the street because they think the money will go to waste. I get entertained. I feel moved, and energized to keep moving. That’s the service I’m paying for. What makes you think you get enough entertainment by flying to Tokyo and watch your favorite artist?

I don’t drag myself to become one of the big fans of business starters who brag about profits to inspire people. To me, it’s more than the dollars you bring in. Or even if you are a profitable and self-proclaimed capitalist enough, I’d be glad to treat you the finest dinner if you impress me with something significant by that profits you generated yesterday.

I can’t help, sometimes, seeing pictures on my Instagram timeline that people travel perpetually only to capture the best pictures of themselves in some very popular tourist attractions. These days, as travelling gets as easy as touching the screen of your smartphone, we can see the decline of this luxury. To me, I travel to open my eyes and to slap my tiny bubble that I only know so little about this wide world.

I, too, cannot stand a second when someone posts a picture with some celebrity or a president while followed by some really inspiring quote just to basically imply “Yo I got to stand next to Kim Jong Un to change the world! What do you got?” Move on to actually get your hands dirty and learn in the most heuristic way possible, not only busy self-branding your pictures to get people to admire you.

See. I do live in a bubble. Cheers!

At most parts though, I only tell myself to let it be. It is their own pursuit of happiness.

Tofu and bean.
The day I began my commitment as a vegetarian.

It was not a religious reason that persuaded me. The day I started becoming a vegetarian was this: I was at a talkshow and my fellow speaker pointed out about the difference of carbon emissions one produces when he/she rides a public transport vs. one vegetarian who drives her own car alone. The inconceivable answer was the vegetarian, which later knocked my door of curiosity to begin my research about a more sustainable eating habit. In short, I chose to become a vegetarian.

Ever since, I have been reading about foods and following some accounts on social media about vegans because I have an intention to step onto the next one: the vegan. Something little I noticed about getting myself in this community is that we seem to develop this thought: every non-vegan is bad. It is starting to feel like being told by a Muslim or any other religious leader that non-believers are the worst beings and should be enlightened. I was starting to embrace my judgemental part towards people I eat my meals with. Bad.

One of those moments you smile because you are with like-minded people.
Becoming environmentalist = more “judgy”

For almost five years, I have been using my voice to advocate the importance of preserving the mother Earth through campaigns, from planting to interrupting someone’s speech to turn off the light in an auditorium during an environment summit. I could suffocate people sometimes with my criticism on their plastics use or destroy someone who is messing with my belief in climate change. One moment I felt about the bubble very strongly was when I randomly got furious at a good friend of mine who was drinking his juice with a straw and…in a styrofoam cup. That time went horrible. My bubble.

It’s good and bad to live in a bubble. To some extent.