I recently had a good talk with a close friend. As is often the case when catching up, part of our conversation involved relaying how our jobs were going, understanding, of course, that these are the lame but also important things that happen in life, and we wanted to cover our bases.
His job has been going very well, with new opportunities for leadership in new technologies, which is awesome. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad envious; some of those technologies are technologies that I’ve wanted to work with. I have less experience (and much less love for computers), but the next day I set out to reflect on this.
I think we all generally desire to be good at what we do. To be competent. To have a skill we can demonstrate. Some of us take our skills very personally, while others easily leave them behind at the office.
When I took the Johnson O’Connor aptitudes test a few years ago, I scored high in their “subjectivity” category, which is a strong indicator that I take work very personally and generally desire to seek expertise in what I do. This has been true as far back as I can remember! It was a terrible bane in my early twenties, though, since a part of me also loves learning new and diverse things, so it was almost as if I were setting out to become an expert in everything I took interest in! Which of course is how you become an expert at nothing.
My plan is to be here for another five years, and I, too, would love to take strides in the direction of what’s called “front-end development” in software; the webpage, the styling, the behavior. I’m still on the border of burnout as far as learning programming is concerned, though, so this gets interesting.
I thought you said you were an unapologetic sellout!
Shut up, inner dialog! I’ll get to that later.
I ask myself: so what if I get to the end of this life and observe that I became a really amazing front-end / full-stack developer? I…uh…I don’t know. I mean, it’s fun. It’s what first got me into computers. It’d feel great to work on projects and really knock them out; to be creative, to make websites look and feel good. But there’s definitely that part of me that thinks…so what?
I think part of me is struggling to understand what the true value of becoming an expert is. Expertise is a form of specialization, which means you can generally command a higher salary if there’s great demand for that knowledge. So expertise can be a money generator. It can also bestow a sense of identity, as well, e.g. this is what I do, this is who I am. But do I feel any tremendous purpose with computers? With software? Not really. If anything, I may be using it as a part of volunteering overseas, but that’s more as a means to an end. Plus, expertise feels so empty on lonely days; it took me years to pick up on this. I think of those guys who become so engrossed in their projects that they lose their marriages. Gosh, that’s just terrifying. To be so attached to your precious knowledge that your relationships suffer. Nope nope nope. I suspect there is great value in not over-valuing expertise, which is something I need to meditate on. I’ve been learning to put things down more often.
Several weeks ago, I hiked way off grid. So far off grid, I bought a personal locator beacon before I went because I knew I would need a backup plan in the event of an “oh, shit” moment. The purpose was, of course, to explore ruins. Lots of ruins. It was amazing. I won’t bore my readers with the explanation, just — I was laughing. There’s was so much back there.
Those are times when I become absolutely alive. I could fill my whole life up with that feeling. And I think that if I really let that message sink into my heart, I’d trade any expertise for that: adventure.
So all of these thoughts start swirling. Yes, I still have five years in which I can and probably should grow as a software developer. But I’m going to have to find a way to can the ‘crap’. To let go of that need to feel smart and good.
Because here’s the truth: if do go overseas, the way I plan, there will be a lot I’m stepping away from. Years from now, some of my friends will be directors, leaders. Important people with important jobs and fancy titles. Maybe nice houses. Nice cars. The whole FIRE movement throws a lot of that into question, and rightfully so, but none of those things is bad, and can in fact be very good. I had never actually thought about this, what going overseas may mean, but that’s kind of what happens. Is that something my heart is ready for? To make that trade? And I believe it is. I wouldn’t be writing this blog if I didn’t. But I think it is time to start asking some of these hard questions. Yes, I program for the money. What’s interesting is to ask myself if I could walk away from that entirely; surrender the ‘programmer’ status. I’m not saying that’s totally the plan, but it could happen.
I’ve been meaning to write this into a post, but a paragraph will have to suffice for now. I have this idea of a “hybrid strategy” with finances. Full retirement with a family would probably require $800k-1.2 million, which would take me a looooong time. However, living off of a nest egg of $300k overseas on the cheap and letting that grow, as well as perhaps earning some side income from freelance programming, could bump that value up. See, with $500k, for example, you could find a decent corner of the US, buy a $200k house in cash, and draw down $1,000 per month from your nest egg for living expenses. You could easily afford to be extremely creative earning additional income, even by simply having a part-time job or a low-key full-time job (one spouse). What I love about this is that it allows for so much creativity. I can’t even enumerate the options.
Every day that passes, I’m tasked with living the life I really desire. And I’m still tweezing out what that means. Sometimes, computers are fascinating and I want to learn; other times, I don’t care, and I want to dive so deep into the season, and the paths, and hidden history. I’d hate to let my own desire for expertise sabotage the greater joys.