When we tell you about our plans, I am finding out something. Something about you.
I tell you we're moving to Miami and then moving again every 6 months, and we don't know where, and of course we're going to keep working because this is the year 2-thousand-freakin'-11 and have you heard of the interwebs and how we've set our lives up in such a way as to be able to be "location transparent."
If you react "What a great adventure," I know something about you. If you cluck your tongue and tell me it's a "crazy scheme," I know something else. If you immediately recite a story to me about [1] Florida's lethal bugs, or [2] How there's "so many murders" in Miami, or [3] how shallow everyone (Everyone?) in Miami Beach is, then-- again-- I know something else.
I know how you view the world. Interestingly, I've only found a very few friends who are able to simply say, "I give you to your journey but I wish you wouldn't go."
Our path isn't for everyone. If it were, honestly, it wouldn't be so damn attractive. And the more you tell me it won't work (How could it not work? It's 6 months. If it sucks, if I get sick of 85-degree weather and sunshine, I can just... move again), the more I think it will. If everyone in the world is writing emails, I'm writing postal service letters long-hand. If everyone else is turning left, I'm turning right and backing down the street. Just the way I am.
Again, my path isn't for everyone, I know that. And I don't begrudge you your concern, your criticism, your questions. Just understand that when I tell you about my new adventure, you know something about me. When you react to the news, I know something about you.
Great innovators and original thinkers and artists attract the wrath of mediocrities as lightning rods draw the flashes.” --Theodor Reik
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