I started this blog because I feel like, up until fairly recently, I’ve been living a life similar to a lot of people out there—fine on the surface, but ultimately unfulfilling; sensible, safe, but boring. I’m following a path many have taken before me: Corporate desk job where I work 40 hours a week. Car loan. Living in a city geographically close to where I grew up.
My realization that I don’t have to live and die within this cookie-cutter template of a life has come in waves. I started learning about farfetched concepts like budgeting, financial independence, and not buying every shiny new thing screaming at me from a sale rack, and suddenly I was asking myself a lot of dangerous questions:
What if I didn’t have to work a standard 40-year career? What if I could purchase my next car in cash? What if I stopped buying stuff just because all the 15-second ads playing between YouTube videos told me I needed to?
This awakening began roughly two years ago, when I first stumbled upon the concept of minimalism.
I wish I could say that my journey to minimalism began gently, like falling into a downy bed of snowflakes knitted by singing angels, but that would be a lie.
Instead, my journey began with spiders, in a nightmarish event I have since dubbed Spiderpocalypse 2015.