You Do You

“Do you work?”

“Fuck you, get a job…ha ha!”

“I’m jealous, fuck off!”

More often than not I’m greeted with such comments concerning my recent foray into Van Life. I get it, and it all comes from a place of humor and goodwill, but there is some measure of truth in sarcasm, whether it’s delivered with casual flair or a sharp bite. 

And after a while it starts to take a toll. 

I almost always smile, shrug my shoulders with a, ‘You can do it, too’, sort of grin. But inside I’m thinking, ‘Stop projecting your shit onto me!” I am not the target for your passive aggressive swipes. The CHOICES you make, and I make, determine how much free time we have and how we CHOOSE to use that time.

Now I recognize that some choices are made for us. For those who were born into poverty and are trapped in low income jobs, scraping by from day to day, your options aren’t as broad as say, a software developer earning $250k a year who CHOOSES that massive mortgage and C Class convertible. So I’m not going to throw a blanket over the entire population and claim that everything is a choice. For some choices are easier to make, for others it’s a choice between eating or paying the rent.

With that said, I’ve never lived an extravagant lifestyle. I’ve earned higher than average salaries in my life, but never would I consider myself anything other than working class. But I haven’t been attached to a mortgage in 15 years and recently have scaled back even further. A few years ago I gave away almost everything I owned, and after all was picked clean I was able to squeeze all of my belongings, including my bikes, into my 6 year old Honda Fit. 

I lived in one particular tiny home that could barely be considered a home, with an outdoor shower and a toilet separated from the rest of the hut by a thin curtain.

And I loved it!

My rent was $400, and yes, it was primitive. But I never felt as though I needed more. I had a roof over my head, a bed, means to clean myself and food. As far as I was concerned, I was in heaven. I’ve since ‘upgraded’ to a slightly larger tiny home, with, regrettably, an indoor shower, and higher rent, but still far lower than the local average. 

Friends visit and say, “How cute!” And some might mention how they have always wanted to live in a tiny home, but creature comforts are a hard thing to give up, I know from experience. It’s easy to say you want to live a minimalist lifestyle, but difficult to actually pull the trigger. 

“How did you give your things away?”, is a common question. It’s easy. Give your shit away.

How many pots do you need? How many plates? How many rooms in your house are required to protect your shit? If you want to minimize, less talking, more doing. But in the end, most people can’t part with their shit. And let’s face it, that’s what our stuff is - shit.

But if you want to acquire more and more shit, that’s your choice. I don’t judge you. Buy what you want, it’s your money. But when you ask me how I can live on the road and not have to work, look around at all your shit, and there is your answer.

If you are unhappy or dissatisfied with your life, please don’t sling light hearted jabs in my direction because of some perceived notion that I have, ‘figured it out’. And don’t assume that your time is more valuable because you have less of it. If I accommodate you because I have more free time, and it’s far less an inconvenience for me to work around your schedule, that is MY CHOICE, and one I am almost always happy to make. But if you work 10 hours a day at your management position at some high tech start up, then spend another 2 hours a day in your car so you can arrive home to your 3,000 square foot house with all the trimmings, that is YOUR CHOICE. And your choices, and mine, have no bearing on the value of time.

Your time is no more important or valuable than mine and vice versa. 

Everything in life is a trade off. While you were sitting comfortably on your toilet seat with heated floors keeping your toes warm and forcing out a satisfying crap this morning, I was shitting into a plastic bag in the remote camping area I chose to sleep last night. While you stood under your shower nozzle with 7 levels of high powered jets massaging your tense neck muscles, I was cleaning up with aloe-infused camp wipes. 

While you were relaxing in your plush loveseat sipping your morning coffee, I was laying back in bed inside The Biscuit and writing this little ditty while staring out at this.

My intention isn’t to attack anyone. Quite the opposite. If anything I want people to be happy in wherever they are and whatever they are doing. A lovely new phrase entered my lexicon recently. When asked, “Where are you?”, I respond with, “I’m right here.” And in my response is hopefully a sense of contentment that isn’t hard to decipher.

If you want to simplify your life, go crazy. It’s fun and liberating. But if that’s not your bag, it’s ok. How you choose to live your life has no bearing on my path, and my journey in no way impacts your day to day. 

You do you. I’ll do me.

Peace out!

Your friend,

Ian and The Biscuit

#youdoyou

#livesimply

#doityourway