This just needs to be shared.
I am just days away from a two week holiday to my hometown of Vancouver Canada, it is always nice to see the west coast of Canada in the spring, often during this time of year the trees will blossom, adding some incredible colors to the already beautiful scenery, and a sweet scent to the cool fresh air. I am also of course very much looking forward to seeing my family and friends, who are the reason for the trip.
After making some plans to visit friends, a discussion about me started amongst my various acquaintances back home, and eventually, some of this discussion came back to me though hearsay. Apparently not all of my friends think I am doing very well in life, and by their measurement, which is salary, I guess I am not, but I do not measure my life in salary, if I did I would have kept some of the high paying jobs I had in the past, or taken some that were offered to me along the way, but I did not, because instead of salary, I measure my life in how much free time I get to experience, free time I often spend with my son, or traveling, reading, and writing.
Inevitably during my trip back to Canada as I visit with the few friends that can find enough time off work to see me, they may give me advice, as they often have before, about how I should change my life to be more like theirs, forgetting that I had lived that way for too many years already, with the waking up to an alarm, rushing to work, wearing a shirt, tie and black socks, eating when I’m told to, and then rushing back home at the end of the day. Many just can’t seem to understand that even though I hardly make any money at all by writing, programming, and selling shirts on the internet for a living, it is exactly the type of life I hope to live forever. To me what I have is something closer to true freedom, than the common illusion of it, which is humorously defined on the web today as freedumb.
As they suggest I dust off my work clothing, which I assume still exists somewhere in my closet, to get a “real job”, and make some real money, I will likely just nod politely, and think to myself, “Please keep your freedumb away from my freedom.”
Below are three videos, with a combined total of only seven minutes, they are all great clips, that I feel relate perfectly to normal corporate life and real freedom.
Wili was a good kid, but the natural pigment of his skin often caused others to not take him seriously.
Wili’s earliest memory was of him learning to ride his bike as a child, the whole family was there as Wili became excited, and began to peddle faster. After reaching quite a high speed, he fell, first tumbling and then sliding along the pavement, his clothing ripped, and then his skin underneath. Once he stopped sliding, he lay on the ground trying to move, and through his teary eyes looked back at his family. His grandpa was holding his big fat belly like Santa Clause and shouted as he laughed “Do it again Clown!”
Then his whole family started a chant as they laughed “Clown! Clown! Clown! Clown!”.
It was no surprise to those of us who really knew Wili, that he would have such a strong attraction to guns later in life.