I found it very interesting when I went to see my mom's financial advisor the other day. He was a very nice chap, who shared a passion of history with me. He was obviously dressed to the nines and working for the royal bank was very much a man of the establishment. what interested me the most in our talks was his repeated assurance that I was living the dream.

The funny thing is, this is a man who helps others (and I'm sure makes a good bit of coin at it) move money around to make their dreams. His is an industry that assumes money=happiness and dream fulfillment. I told him I was a writer, lived aboard a sailboat, and that we frequently bob around living here and there in the summer.
The yearning in his voice was unmistakable, and yet part of me doesn't get it. If my life is such a shining example, why not do it? after all, it's a lot easier than working 9-5 for a living and holding down all those debts and payments. I suppose the answer lies in my arguments in my Loser's Guide: the mainstream is known, it's easier to do what others are doing, mainstream life traps you in debt and obligations, and it's hard to stop and jump aboard a new ship mid stream. You also lose the security that comes with all those trappings.

Some days I feel the privilege more than others; this is just my life and it's what I do. There are good days and bad, sometimes I make my goals and at other times I don't. Recently I've been bouncing between the two. As I'm writing this I'm looking over Haro Strait through a picture window. I could stop and go for a sauna or hot tub, or watch a movie in the theatre room. There's a red BMW convertible out in the driveway. I have no plans for the day and might spend it writing. I might decide to take off next week and go for a week long sail unless some work comes up. None of this costs me a cent. I suspect most people would think that was pretty sweet.

But the problem with this kind of thing is that after a time it stops being amazing, which is why it's such a very poor direction to your life. The view is lovely, but so is the one from the deck of my boat. the hot tub hardly gets used, there are only so many movies to watch, and the sauna is best just before bed. Yet it takes a whole professional life (probably two) to accumulate all this.Others no doubt think it's worth while. Personally, I don't.

And as for the BMW? I suppose I should come clean on that, although I feel a little embarrassed. It's Tracy's. A 1997 318i convertible. It was a gift from my mom, who is old school and cannot conceive of being without a car, and wanted to get me one. We didn't really need a car, but since she was offering I bought one that was sheer fun, sheer indulgence. I've almost always owned practical vehicles, so this seemed like a real lark.  It is the most fun on four wheels I've ever had and with this mild weather we have been driving around a lot with the top down. I couldn't imagine owning it, which is why it's Tracy's and is in her name. Besides, it's not very often "I" can buy nice things for her and this seemed like a chance.

I haven't got a pic of Tracy's car, but this is the model and colour:



I think having it doesn't make me a hypocrite; what it does mean is that my mom is very generous and sweet and we are very fortunate and privileged. It also means that it doesn't take slavish adherence to a mainstream lifestyle to have material riches.

So things are very good but I'm still restless. Work is slow right now so maybe I'll go sailing again? Perhaps start writing again, as I've got a lot of unfinished projects.