Don't be afraid to confide your enthusiasm and fears with your friends.
Be confident in your assertions. Your friends' reactions may initially not be what you wish to hear, but know they do want you to succeed in your convictions. Most often they are still locked into the fear and loathing of corporate society so any positive feedback will be an encouragement. The look on their face will likely be one of bewildered admiration that you are embarking on everyone's sublimated fantasy.
Family is just as unlikely to be encouraging. Remember that they don't want you to make the same life mistakes they've experienced, either first-hand or from some soap opera or b.s.-reality show, the distant-future benchmark of the dark ages and downfall of broadcast media.
To speak your convictions, what has come to make perfect sense to you, will reinforce and confirm your circumstance. Nothing is set in stone, especially in your apprenticeship in adaptable life. Things change with the wind and you will bend like the tree, still firmly rooted.
Friends
Avocation
Can you recall your younger days? Less money, more time. We couldn't afford that esoteric guitar or bicycle but we found the way to an acceptable substitute. You bought a Schwinn Varsity instead of a Campagnolo-gruppo Unobtainium racycle. Time and money morphed these acquisitions into whatever the magazines are selling and we succumb to upgrade-itis. With musical instruments, they called it Gear Acqusition Syndrome (G.A.S.) and include the addict's excuse of being able to quit anytime. Easier said than done until the money supply is cut off.
The loss of steady income is a perfectly welcome opportunity to reintroduce our youthful ideals of minimalism, green consciousness, and economic freedom from the man. The unconscious state of making money to spend money is awakened and we're suddenly fastidious accountants and stewards of the here and now. The daily mocha and breakfast burrito at the company store which was the affluent personal treat for showing up in the same building every day turns into a regretful waste of savings for a rainy day. It was a matter of survival of a different sort back then, so bygones, right?
Now the time has arrived for unconventional thinking of the ideal kind. Do we choose to despair over the bleak economic indicators and threadbare classifieds? They can be little more than depressing, especially as listings for your field are gobbled up by graduates going to work for peanuts to pay the student loan sharks. Channel those daydreams in the soft time at work. Recall the moments you fantasized about doing what you really enjoy, what you know how to do, what you do in your leisure time, what you read about. Ask yourself if this is possible to pursue. Take the money factor out of the equation for now. Try to forget the mortgage and pressing bills for just a moment. Ask yourself if it's at all possible to make even twenty dollars a day doing this. Be unrealistic. Is there somewhere you can volunteer for a month to bring you up to speed as a go-to person someone will seek out. I'm not talking about something you haven't a clue, a total fantasy with no practical experience. I'm suggesting a passion you already have, that you never imagined anyone would pay you to do, that has held your interest for years. Mine's bikes and guitars, the adolescent's mainstays. I never grew out of either one, continually justifying each as an organic miracle of technology and craftsmanship. They are my sure thing, my friends and children, my conversation guarantees. No matter the walk of life, the financial discrepancy, the social distinction, the wind always delivers the scent. Someone invariably will approach and meet on this common ground. If it's not them, it's me. The guy's wife will roll her eyes and say it's always about the bike to whomever i'm with. The conversation runs rampant through the opened window and we both know there will be backpressure if left running too long. The greatest luxury is having all the time in the world and circumstance to let it run its course and full length. That's rare because of our heightened consciousness of the tape measure of remaining days, but it should be attempted. Your head will hit the pillow that night with a contented sigh. These are good days.
Analysis of Things Past
Bob Slydell: You see, what we're actually trying to do here is, we're trying to get a feel for how people spend their day at work... so, if you would, would you walk us through a typical day, for you?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Bob Slydell: Great.
Peter Gibbons: Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, ah, I use the side door - that way Lumbergh can't see me, heh heh - and, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour.
Bob Porter: Da-uh? Space out?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah, I just stare at my desk; but it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.
Bob Slydell: I'd like to move us right along to a Peter Gibbons. Now we had a chance to meet this young man, and boy that's just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him.
- Office Space, 1999
So where were you all that time? What can you account for this lost time of your life? Is it measurable?? A week after my release, a friend in conversation offered a perversion of a college career visual that startled me to the core. He took a tape measure from the kitchen drawer and pulled out my age in inches. He asked me to estimate an arbitrary age when the quality of life is recognized as heading downhill. I thoughtlessly chose 80 just to be compliant since i was used to his joke style. "Okay", he says as i balance the long reach of the tape on the table and adjust my 55 inch/year mark under my eyes. My past life, gone for good, was practically out the window, and in my immediate field of vision were the inches i have left, if i live that long.
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
-Uncle Bob D.
The Portable Life
I felt the cold wind under me for years but endured the pop-tests of being hauled in to HR with every regime change. My immediate supervisor always had some issue with my behavior and would hatch a new plan of attack with each new reassignment of HR representative. Why was it that everyone in that company was happy with me but the manager? Was it a personality clash or just my attitude? Obviously to me, it was all about control, the hallmark of middle management. I truly and admittedly wasn't much of an ass-kisser, in fact, i often took opportunity to express my feelings which didn't always worship of the bottom line. I enjoyed a wonderful working relationship with one hundred percent of my clients, practically inventing the job at the beginnings of digital presentation. I was the go-to guy for every formatting headache relief. Now, who knows where they go for help, although few have called me at home in a panic. I liked the work, but it was a long job sentence after all, full of little murders, and a time of bittersweet memory. I didn't rule out freelancing and still help out old friends.
Back to the past, in this job of putting out the fires of panic, five minutes before showtime, there was quite a bit of soft time, with internet access and time to take ergonomic breaks. That time was ripe for daydreaming and possibilities. More than a year before the axe, my mind was filled with days of heaven, open-ended thoughts and schemes of bicycle touring, of blood transfusion in the band, of life's inevitabilities. The writing was on the wall and i was waiting out the coming storm, but in an almost natural selection perspective. I made an unconscious decision to gather acorns, research and buy all things for a year off, while i had income, while i was in spending mode. It was a joyous spree, collecting objects and tools of long-distance cycle touring, figuring and rehearsing what would suit a comfortable time off for adventure. The ultralight tent and cookstuff, the building of a dedicated expedition bike, the first-hand advice of seasoned trekkers was exciting to the core. Maybe that's what's kept my mental momentum rolling, that enthusiasm for what i really plan to enjoy, every detail reconsidered every day, to prolong and enhance the interest and conviction. It took a long time but the G.A.S. has leveled and there is now a true appreciation for the reliable and cool tools, the things that work and that return great pleasure in their use.
These are the tools of adventure away from the nest, what you can take with you, ever more efficient and economic. If you're a homebody and can leave your nagging mind, then organize to where you don't spend all day looking for misplaced tools of enjoyment. But, if you're outward bound, take inventory before each outing so you can stay as long as you like in the undiscovered country.
Truly consider crazyguyonabike.com for limitless inspiration and valuable insights of personal interaction as well as the psychology of the solo pedalist. Hundreds of people are out there exploring on foot or on two wheels at any given moment in every country. The gear lists are fascinating, the bare minimum people estimate and revise since weight and bulk is a major issue when touring. Tour your own town with your custom gear list.