I retired when I was thirty-eight years old.
Well, not really. To my mind, “retired” means I stopped working, and I certainly didn’t do that. My work means a tremendous amount to me. Being idle isn’t in my blood. I am reminded of a quote I cited from a blog post I did back in the days when I used to do really amazing posts…..
Finally and above all else, he was marvelously alive; and mankind, dreading boredom even more than anxieties, is grateful to those who make life throb with a swifter, stronger beat
What I mean by my “retirement” was that I was financially independent. I had, single-handedly,
gone from being pushed out into the world at the age of 17 without any financial support to having the choice to never need to work work again.
As I say, though, not working isn’t really my thing. On the contrary, I think my desire to work and create exists in such abundance as to make me miserable, because if I’m not actively creating, I am very unhappy. I find myself in that state quite a bit.

I am qualified; namely my former area of expertise as someone who was in essence told by the media over and over again “you don’t exist”, while the consumerist, financialized and globalized economy flourished. By “you” I of course mean me, an owner of a small American manufacturing business. My area of focus from the speech…

