I live in Wisconsin. I wear ties to work. I golf on the weekend with the president. My employer manufactures injection molded plastic storage products; we're trying hard to move into the Lawn and Garden category, but it's difficult. I can read a profit and loss statement and a balance sheet. I manage people in cubicles, and hope to escape mine soon.
I own furniture that I wouldn't throw away if I moved. Last night, I cleaned the kitchen, top to bottom. I'm about to sign a mortgage for a tastefully decorated house. I'm not even thirty, yet.
I have a friend who's a producer in LA. He wonders why I don't pursue a lifestyle with more... glamour. His latest plan is secure venture capital for a new model. He won't tell anyone what the model is, only that he doesn't need to actually execute it, or be capable of doing so. He can always hire someone later.
I have a friend in Montreal who's killed people over drugs. He buys bags of day old bagels for $0.99, because they're cheaper, and easily softened with water. He once gave me a canvas bag full of guns to hold for him, because the cops might be around. I miss him, but I wouldn't go back.
I don't want to be cool. I just want to see things.