Writing it Down

Writing is hard right now, especially in the mornings when I remember stuff all over again. But I am trying to keep up with good habits. I figure you're always reinforcing some sort of habit, no matter what you're doing...or avoiding doing. It's all building a routine.

So I might as well reinforce something healthy, like brushing my teeth and showering, shopping for food and cooking our own meals, or taking walks with the family, instead of drinking too many beers, wasting time on the internet, watching too much television, or playing hours of Fifa on the PlayStation.

After losing Pepper, we're trying to identify the things that matter and the things that don't. Going back to work after a little time off last week has me thinking about my career. I suppose that being a financial independence and early retirement blogger already puts me on a weird sort of career path, and you can probably take a guess at how I feel about my job.

Way back when, I trained to be an English teacher. I loved literature, I loved school, so why not teach for a living? I worked full time in my university's procurement office, earning my BA at night and, after graduating, did the same for my teaching credential.

I taught for just part of one year before realizing this profession was not at all for me. In those moments I was actually teaching, I enjoyed it. But all the other stuff, dealing with the administration who didn't give much support, and the parents who rarely cared, and, frankly, managing a classroom of thirty five kids who were more interested in hanging out than learning, was all too much for me. I was stressed out all the time, losing weight, feeling disrespected, and I was very happy to quit when I had the chance.

So what if I didn't turn the thing I loved into a job? At least that's what I tell myself when I feel some guilt.

After leaving teaching and going back into Procurement, my mindset on career, and the fulfillment it's supposed to bring me, has changed. Now, I view my career as a tool that helps me create money, and the money helps me achieve certain goals. It's a great tool, way better than any other I know for that specific task, but it's still just a tool. It's not the driving force for my life, and it's certainly not who I am.

These days, I trade my skills and my time for money. I then use the money to buy myself choices, security, and, eventually, more time. The relationships with coworkers, the added skills I acquire, the sense of self-worth...these, at least in my experience, are temporary and ancillary.

Temporary, since I plan to leave this particular career behind in four years. It's not like I hate my job. I'm good at it and it comes easy to me. But no matter how much I like any particular task, I'm not keen on spending half my waking hours doing that one thing for half my entire life. That's too big a slice of the pie. I want activity diversity, and soon.

The benefits of work are ancillary since, and I try to say this without shame or regret, the thing I am truly working for is cash money.

I'm not waking up early and putting in all this effort to proudly state my title when some stranger at a dinner party asks me what I do for a living. I am not trying to impress the neighbors or one-up my friends. I don't look to my work to define me as a member of society, or, as sad as this might sound to some, provide a sense of purpose to my life. Nor am I clocking all these hours for the bonding moments at the water cooler. For better or worse, I'm not building lifelong friendships with my coworkers. 

When it comes to career, I'm selling out, folks, and I am trying to embrace it. My name is Brian, and I am here for the money.

What I do with the big pile of money is the tricky part. Simply having a little wealth won't magically create meaning. In the same vein, understanding that I won't find purpose if I keep digging into my career, doesn't mean I suddenly know where to find it, either.

The thing I keep coming back to is this blog. That I think I want to, and maybe am supposed to, spend my time writing. Not earning a living as a writer, per se,...just doing the writing, even if I don't want to turn it into something that pays.

When I put in the time and create something out of my words, I feel good. I feel what I imagine others do when they cook, or work on a house, or birth or raise a kid. It's the creation of a thing, and doing it with care, and it feels good when it's done well.

I've spent too much time thinking of the "how" of early retirement, and not enough on the "why" or the "what". But I think I'm starting to figure those last two out a little and, even when I'm sad, it brings a little smile to my face.


*Photo is from ianmyles at Flickr Creative Commons.