Continuation of this thread: One Year of FLF.
Sorry for being gone for so long, but I had a good excuse:
Unfortunately, I read this thread while I was away:
I'm gonna be a dad.. Did I just lose the fastlane?
And realized that I had lost the fastlane. There's just too many red gumballs in this machine for my liking, especially with a child to support. So I decided that I'd rather stick to the slow lane and fill up a 401K. I'll have plenty of time to get to know my child after I retire from a regular 9-5, and my baby is 40, and has grown up, has a family, and has moved away. Thanks for everything; this has been an interesting period in my life. I envy you young guys and gals who can still experiment with this stuff safely. All the best!
Lol, jk.
When I was a child, everything in our house was focused on getting college scholarships and getting into the best colleges possible. I did not have one summer "off" from school after about age 13. Nights, weekends, you name it. It was the a high-pressure academic situation similar to what many children of East-Asian/Indian immigrants are unfortunately familiar with. Every year, there was this desperate scramble to memorize more speeches and facts and perform more outlandish feats to dazzle unqualified volunteer judges and bored corporate donors who had to tolerate listening to us to promote their brands. My family was fairly poor during this time; my dad had been out of work for years, though he took whatever dead-end, brutal, crap jobs he could find to put a few extra bucks on the table. My mom worked part time. Everything depended on going to the best school on a full ride. My entire sense of self worth hinged on where I went to university and whether or not I got a full ride. People were measured and graded based on where they were "going" or "got into." Those who weren't going to college weren't worthy of consideration at all.
By the time I got to college, everything was suffocating. I couldn't imagine a life where the organic and physical chemistry and differential equations I had to suffer through became a daily routine, but I knew that if I didn't want my kids to have to run the awful gauntlet I'd been through, I'd need to be either an engineer (and preferably computer, petroleum, or aerospace) or go into medicine.
I dreamed that things would be different in my personal life too.
I wanted to be able to support the faltering homeless shelter I volunteered at when I was a teen. I thought about providing real programs for the clients so that the neurotypical ones (and any who could live on their own) could get back on their feet.
I dreamed about not picking up my girlfriend in my 265,000 mile, 12-year-old Chrysler that needed air in its back tire before every trip. I dreamed about driving that POS with its screeching fan belts and rattling catalytic converters into the river and taking her to the next campus formal an Aston Martin DB9 that had just come out, which I thought was the most beautiful car I'd ever seen.
But I saw no way to get any of the things I wanted, except for 10+ years of higher education and brutal 70-hour weeks for the rest of my life. I knew it was what I was supposed to do. What my family wanted me to do. What I had been prepared for my whole life.
I've been here for four years, as long as it takes to get a college degree. It's now 2017.
It's Tuesday again. Do you know where I am?
Not at work.
Before I brought my child home from the hospital, my wife and I locked in a maxed out 5-year-schedule joint gift 529 for the baby for college. With the money that investment generates (large initial investment into the market + time), my child will never worry about paying for college or grad school. Ever.
I spend my time doing the things I want to do. Charity. Volunteering. Writing. Reading with my baby in the hammock on the porch all day yesterday (Monday). Focus on vocation and inspiration with no need to concern myself with pay.
What began as a side hustle is growing into a real machine. What began as a the gentle sprinkling of occasional sales and ill-conceived side-hustles has precipitated into a focused deluge at the hands of automation and subcontractors.
I was sitting at a party this weekend and a guy heard my phone buzzing under the booming music and said, "sounds like somebody's really trying to get a hold of you."
"No, I get that alert every time I sell some of X, so I leave it on. It makes my day."
By the 5th time the buzz came in, the guy said "Are you kidding me?"
I'm not. And I haven't needed a college degree or paid training for any of it.
This is some bullshit
Before I got my copy of TMF , my part in the script was a guy in his mid 20's living in a studio apartment and making $40,000/yr. By then I was driving a nice 2000 Dodge Neon with a rust hole in the door the size of a tennis ball and only 185,000 miles on it.
Where were you four years ago? Where are you now? Where will you be tomorrow?
Look at the final act of the script you're acting out. Look at the road you're on.
Now look were you want to be.
You can get there. If you try.
Sorry for being gone for so long, but I had a good excuse:
Unfortunately, I read this thread while I was away:
I'm gonna be a dad.. Did I just lose the fastlane?
And realized that I had lost the fastlane. There's just too many red gumballs in this machine for my liking, especially with a child to support. So I decided that I'd rather stick to the slow lane and fill up a 401K. I'll have plenty of time to get to know my child after I retire from a regular 9-5, and my baby is 40, and has grown up, has a family, and has moved away. Thanks for everything; this has been an interesting period in my life. I envy you young guys and gals who can still experiment with this stuff safely. All the best!
Lol, jk.
When I was a child, everything in our house was focused on getting college scholarships and getting into the best colleges possible. I did not have one summer "off" from school after about age 13. Nights, weekends, you name it. It was the a high-pressure academic situation similar to what many children of East-Asian/Indian immigrants are unfortunately familiar with. Every year, there was this desperate scramble to memorize more speeches and facts and perform more outlandish feats to dazzle unqualified volunteer judges and bored corporate donors who had to tolerate listening to us to promote their brands. My family was fairly poor during this time; my dad had been out of work for years, though he took whatever dead-end, brutal, crap jobs he could find to put a few extra bucks on the table. My mom worked part time. Everything depended on going to the best school on a full ride. My entire sense of self worth hinged on where I went to university and whether or not I got a full ride. People were measured and graded based on where they were "going" or "got into." Those who weren't going to college weren't worthy of consideration at all.
By the time I got to college, everything was suffocating. I couldn't imagine a life where the organic and physical chemistry and differential equations I had to suffer through became a daily routine, but I knew that if I didn't want my kids to have to run the awful gauntlet I'd been through, I'd need to be either an engineer (and preferably computer, petroleum, or aerospace) or go into medicine.
I dreamed that things would be different in my personal life too.
I wanted to be able to support the faltering homeless shelter I volunteered at when I was a teen. I thought about providing real programs for the clients so that the neurotypical ones (and any who could live on their own) could get back on their feet.
I dreamed about not picking up my girlfriend in my 265,000 mile, 12-year-old Chrysler that needed air in its back tire before every trip. I dreamed about driving that POS with its screeching fan belts and rattling catalytic converters into the river and taking her to the next campus formal an Aston Martin DB9 that had just come out, which I thought was the most beautiful car I'd ever seen.
But I saw no way to get any of the things I wanted, except for 10+ years of higher education and brutal 70-hour weeks for the rest of my life. I knew it was what I was supposed to do. What my family wanted me to do. What I had been prepared for my whole life.
I've been here for four years, as long as it takes to get a college degree. It's now 2017.
It's Tuesday again. Do you know where I am?
Not at work.
Before I brought my child home from the hospital, my wife and I locked in a maxed out 5-year-schedule joint gift 529 for the baby for college. With the money that investment generates (large initial investment into the market + time), my child will never worry about paying for college or grad school. Ever.
I spend my time doing the things I want to do. Charity. Volunteering. Writing. Reading with my baby in the hammock on the porch all day yesterday (Monday). Focus on vocation and inspiration with no need to concern myself with pay.
What began as a side hustle is growing into a real machine. What began as a the gentle sprinkling of occasional sales and ill-conceived side-hustles has precipitated into a focused deluge at the hands of automation and subcontractors.
I was sitting at a party this weekend and a guy heard my phone buzzing under the booming music and said, "sounds like somebody's really trying to get a hold of you."
"No, I get that alert every time I sell some of X, so I leave it on. It makes my day."
By the 5th time the buzz came in, the guy said "Are you kidding me?"
I'm not. And I haven't needed a college degree or paid training for any of it.
This is some bullshit
Before I got my copy of TMF , my part in the script was a guy in his mid 20's living in a studio apartment and making $40,000/yr. By then I was driving a nice 2000 Dodge Neon with a rust hole in the door the size of a tennis ball and only 185,000 miles on it.
Where were you four years ago? Where are you now? Where will you be tomorrow?
Look at the final act of the script you're acting out. Look at the road you're on.
Now look were you want to be.
You can get there. If you try.
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Last edited:
j/k
