No time for a shower and I’m honestly hoping I’ll get a minute to sneak up to the fitness center I joined for four months at some point. Missed a bus but oddly another one rolled up a minute later and I sat in the back where this woman carefully applied her makeup as we rolled into downtown and for a moment I remember thinking I was pretty happy to not be worried about some things.
Before I got my scores back I heard the sing song everyone in the industry offered as advice: we hate this work. I worked for people I saw gripping smoke and coffee breaks like their day would explode without them. I saw the promise that going postal would provide wickedly smart people locked up in the depression afforded to the unfortunate and well-meaning people who settle for the restrictions of a typical career in a typical industry that pay a typically great salary for being typical.
Today I spent the first half of the day downstairs seated at the window as the weather moved from grey to grey-yellow and the rain made a half-hearted appearance. The shop was full almost all morning; more conversation than laptop dates, and across the street the park revealed today’s importance to a particular subculture as kids strolled around sporting pot leaf necklaces and tie-dyed shirts.
To uproot a life on those merits inherently under-weights the role your heartfelt relationships deserve in most of your major decisions. I was an hour from my parents and a walk from my best friends. I was awash in a sea of wonderful people doing incredible things…make no mistake. Some of the smartest people I know were the ones I spent my free time with each weekend in Chicago.
Sure, we’re a bit** more agile with technology, but everyone else is catching up fast. Sure, that’s given us a bit of a unique profile when it comes to brands that want to sell us things and employers who want to keep us happy, but that’s their rat race.
You’re still buying things, and you probably work for someone.
I’m fairly confident means that that I’m crazy, and I’ll look back on the whole experience and wonder what lead to my being the kind of guy who would move to a foreign country without a work permit, a place to live, or enough time to really say goodbye to friends and family.
As a blogger, though, I’ve spent a lot of my written words pushing for a few common endeavors within the community. One of them is transparency; I think blogging is at it’s best when we try to be concise and honest. The other is confidence; I think personal bloggers write themselves towards a voice that represents them, and the more they write the closer we all get to the good stuff.
My two week provisional visitor’s visa was almost up. I’d spent all week locking down my very digital and very public life, and reassuring most of my friends and family at home that I was not, in fact, totally insane. I felt as if the whole bureaucratic ineptitude of a nation had decided to throw a tea party at my expense. I was in Canada, but I wasn’t allowed to work…much less build a company from scratch.