My Career Isn't My Identity, But My Work Is My Life

It's a balancing act better suited for life in Spain 🇪🇸

I’m continuing to discover great Substack accounts based in Spain. After I come across a few more, I’ll make a list so you can consider subscribing to them. If you know of any, please let me know.

As a quick aside, you can subscribe to my newsletter right now (if you haven’t already) and receive 50% off of one year. So that’s $25 for a year.

Or go for a founding membership (monthly and yearly subscribers can upgrade and get a pro-rated price). It costs $100 and immediately converts to a lifetime subscription. That’s the best perch from which to follow our move to Spain as it unfolds during our last six months or so in California and continues, on the ground in Spain, right as the year turns new.

Moving To Spain: Now That We Have An Official Date (!), Exactly How We Plan To Proceed

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I probably started seeing all of these Spanish accounts because I interact with and recommend the excellent Stories From Sevilla.

The other day, Stories From Sevilla wrote about how her career isn’t her identity and how “what do you do?” rarely comes up in conversation in Spain:

The transition from living in a culture where career is number one to the Spanish culture was surprisingly a welcome change for me. My life was suddenly filled with color. I had time to do things after work every day. Everyone around me wanted to do things after work every day (in part because it’s so much easier to meet up with someone when it’s a 10-minute walk instead of a 30-minute drive). I wasn’t exhausted from work. I wasn’t waiting for the weekends (nor am I now, even though I’m back to working a full-time job). This radical change wasn’t so much a loss as an introduction to a whole new world.

Indeed, what do you do is the most popular icebreaker in America. And it’s one I have an interesting relationship with.

First, I hate talking to people—in person—about what I do. It’s one of my least favorite things in life.

I like to talk about what I do within the official parameters of actually doing it.

Second, while my career isn’t my identity, my work absolutely is my life. Literally.

It’s a strange combo I think about often and have dealt with for almost forever. And it’s a mix I feel like I’ll balance much better in Spain.

Let me try to explain why. Because explaining myself in writing hasn’t come as easy as usual in recent weeks!

In response to someone who said (que dijo) they’re looking forward to seeing “what blossoms in (my) writing” after the move I said (Yo dije)*—

I am also looking forward to seeing my writing once we move! It's like I know exactly what to expect and have zero idea of what to expect from it all at the same time!

This gets at what I was feeling while reading the Stories From Sevilla post.

I literally write about a large chunk of my life pretty much every single day.

My wife and I are spending next week in San Francisco. I’ll write about the things we do and what’s happening there. I’ll find ways to tie it all back to the core themes of this newsletter—

• Dealing with the reality that you’ll Never Retire

• Finding ways to Live The Semi-Retired Life

• The ins and outs and certain ups and downs of the pending move to Spain

When you do what I do, you’re always thinking about work. When you’re traveling (especially). When you’re walking. When you’re watching TV. All of the time. But not in the traditional and relatively shitty sense of hating it or worrying about it. While it’s not as if I never worry about work, the actual “job” I do is truly a mix of two key ingredients: what I am good at and my passions.

I’m not good at a lot. So I don’t do those things. I have tried fitting too many square pegs into round holes. I watch too many others attempt to do likewise. It’s a waste of time.

Ideally, you have to do something that can provide you sustenance (you’re competent enough at it to make some money) that you don’t hate (it’s your passion, or close to it). But, when you find this mix, it can be a double-edged sword. If you’re a good baker or bartender who really loves baking and bartending, you’ll have trouble not thinking about work when you’re in a restaurant or bar.

Same with writing, particularly when you write about your life or something you love or find otherwise intriguing and fulfilling.

So I guess (?) this type of dynamic—adapted to include situations I didn’t bring up here—is an exception to the toxic what do you do element of our culture.

But it has to be specific and a true exception. I don’t buy this bull shit of I work 16 hours a day, six days a week at my tech job and I absolutely love it. Except in rare cases, there’s something else that just ain’t right. It’s not like working like a dog for Elon Musk is the same as making your own music until all hours of the night in the recording studio.

For example, my wife will transition from a career she has loved, but is over to working on her passions after we move. She’ll draw from most everything she sees and experiences to help grow, shape and evolve her work. It’s not as if work will be something she has to escape from. She’ll look forward to it because having this outlook on work makes it less about work and more a part of your welcome day-to-day routine.

Or maybe I’m just framing this conversation using my own warped psychological and cultural filters.

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In any event, with what I do I am influenced—in a huge mother fucking way—by my surroundings in the day to day.

Lately, positive inspiration has been increasingly difficult to come by, thanks largely to the continued degradation of quality of life in Los Angeles.

As I wrote (escribí) on Medium the other day—

I was telling my wife the other morning that I no longer enjoy or want to participate in my favorite hobby.

That is, walking around the city. Los Angeles.

This development is nothing short of depressing. As in, it — literally — depresses me …

I love nothing more than walking from my apartment, around Central LA and into Hollywood to make a stop at my favorite dive bar.

But, as I was doing it the other day, I realized that I just don’t see myself doing it anymore.

I’ll take a freaking Uber. I’ll relegate my walks away from Hollywood, to the bustling main street that anchors my relatively posh — (thank you, rent control!) — neighborhood. Because when I go towards Hollywood, it’s just no longer pleasant.

While there has always been a level of grit and blight — some seediness — it has never been this bad. Things have become exponentially worse over the last year or so.

When I walk in parts of Los Angeles now, I feel unsafe.

I feel the need to be skeptical of people I see. I hate that I feel this way and, instinctively, act on it.

This is not hyperbole. This situation literally makes me sad.

So, it’s tough to not let a negative slant—or worse—creep into your writing (your work) because part of your job is relaying what is (as you see, feel and experience it). If you don’t do this, you’re putting your head in the sand. Which is even worse.

I observe my surroundings and give my response to it. There’s no separating your physical surroundings from how you see, feel and experience almost everything else.

In Los Angeles, you have to look past so much that’s wrong to find the positive. This is no way for a person to function in a city. And, unless you’re Mike Davis, it’s really an awful perch—(second time I said perch in this story and I wonder how to say “perch” in Spanish, if it’s even a word)—from which to write. At least on the regular.

In Spain, I feel like “my work is my life” will help see me into and beyond relative old age in a much happier, healthier and less stressful way. Don’t get me wrong, we have a great life in LA. There’s so much that’s good about this place. And Melisse is literally the perfect person to live life here, there or anywhere with. No matter what’s going on, I look forward to waking up and falling asleep next to her.

But still—this doesn’t eliminate what’s happening around us. Having a good life in a not-so-good city with a great partner doesn’t change the reality of the place. There’s something sad and depressing about having to desensitize yourself to your surroundings. Sure, I’d live in hell with you, but if we have a choice to be someplace better, we probably should take it.

Ultimately, so much of this comes back to settling.

We settle for so much shit in the United States.

We settle for physical environments built around cars. We settle for gun violence. We settle for no or terrible healthcare. We settle for expensive and unhealthy food at bad restaurants. We settle for a culture that prioritizes “what do you do” over what are you meaningfully doing with your time?

We throw everything that matters out the window in service of this insanity rendering our quality of life substandard at best. Because quality of life isn't about status and possessions, it's about welcoming, safe, vibrant and convivial public and public/private environments. Places from where you can draw positive inspiration you’re proud of and eager to share with others without feeling like you have to work for it.

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*Occasionally, I use my writing to quickly practice the Spanish basics I keep mixing up!

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Barcelona, Spain. See you on January 3, 2025!