Sunlit Serenity
How I’m Surfing the AI Wave
Yosemite, April 2025
TL;DR: After two years of travel, I’m done with the career ladder. My plan: invest to buy freedom, build a sunlit fortress, and chase purpose that robots can’t simulate. Here’s the playbook.
The old playbook –work hard, climb the ladder, retire rich– is about as useful as a map to a city that burned down.
Artificial Intelligence is rewriting the rules of the game, and meanwhile, AI is humming along like a cosmic Roomba, sucking up your résumé.
If the 20th century was a cage match between Capital vs. Labour, AI just ended the fight. It kicked Labour out of the ring and handed Capital a nuclear weapon.
Factories? Automated. Customer service? Chatbots. Robots can code, drive, and even write snarky articles (don’t tempt me).
So, who’s left holding the gold? Spoiler: it’s the ones with the assets.
The capital class and the techno-feudalists aren’t going anywhere; they are the kids hoarding the best toys in the sandbox. In my view, the tension is shifting to Capital vs. Access – a struggle over who controls the algorithm, and who gets locked out of it.
I guess we’ll find out.
After two years of gallivanting across the globe –think night markets, humidity, and one too many hostel bunk beds– I’m back to square one. I am staring at the horizon and asking: where do I go from here?
Not to some cubicle hellscape. That’s for sure.
A career? That’s fairy dust sprinkled to keep you tethered to a desk. The social contract has never been guaranteed, especially not in these interesting times.
I need a plan to surf this AI wave without wiping out. Here is how I’m charting the course, navigating by three guiding stars: a calm mind, a fit body, and a house full of love.
Let’s break it down.
Play the Game, Don’t Be the Game
The first thing I realized: If AI is rewriting the rulebook, I’m not about to be the sucker holding a typewriter.
To access AI’s benefits, you have to move like a chess grandmaster – strategic, not sweaty. That means investing in assets that give you a slice of the future: stocks, ETFs, or real estate if you’re feeling fancy.
Why? Because the Capital class always eats first.
They will gatekeep the spoils of AI, so you have to play their game. Investing lets you piggyback on other people’s hustle. Think of it as your very own “Workaholic as a Service” (WaaS). It’s betting on the casino, not the gambler.
Here’s the deal: money is a tool, not a personality trait. I don’t tie my worth to my bank account any more than I do to my Spotify playlist. It’s about buying freedom– time to have breakfast on a balcony, not chase status in some fluorescent purgatory.
My plan? Diversify to dodge market tantrums (looking at you, 2025 tariff chaos) and keep learning the world’s economic pulse. Curiosity is my edge. I want to sniff out trends before they become hashtags, so I can thrive in the chaos rather than mourn my obsolete career.
Build a Fortress, But Make It Calm
Then there’s the question: the future is a dice roll. Systemic risks –pandemics, market crashes, or a rogue AI tweeting the economy into oblivion– are the new normal.
After hopping through the hemispheres, I’ve seen how fragile “stable” societies can be. Institutions fail, corporate layoffs hit, and suddenly your “safe” 9-to-5 is a 404 error.
I want a life with low exposure to that noise. A place where I’m mostly left in peace but still plugged into the world on my terms.
This isn’t about going full hermit in a bunker. Think: a quiet sunlit place with decent Wi-Fi.
A Mediterranean gem where I can swirl a Negroni under the stars, not a concrete jungle where you’re one lockdown away from dystopian cosplay. It’s about resilience: grow a garden, maybe dabble in solar panels, and depend less on sclerotic systems.
Rural vibes have perks (lower costs, fewer headaches) but trade-offs (spotty pizza delivery, nosy neighbors). Urban hubs offer opportunity but come with baggage (high rents, outdated infrastructure, and lines for pumpkin-spiced lattes).
No spot is perfect. I’m not delusional enough to think I can dodge every curveball. Reality loves flipping the script, so adaptability is my ace.
I’m eyeing a home base with a garden. Maybe a nice apartment. Maybe a van-life pivot if things get dicey. The goal isn’t “safety.” The goal is a calm mind and a fit body.
Purpose Is the Real Gig
Finally, here’s the truth nobody tells you: when AI takes over the grunt work, the only job left is finding purpose.
Not the LinkedIn kind, where you’re “passionate about synergy” (yuck). I mean the stuff that makes you wake up without hating the mirror.
My “house full of love” isn’t just a metaphor. It is the people who make life worth living, the ones who’ll laugh with you when the world’s on fire. Purpose is the gig only you can fill, no matter how many robots are out there coding sonnets.
I’m not naive. I know I might be overlooking something in my hubris. Maybe AI’s impact will be weirder than I think, like sentient toasters staging a coup1. Maybe the Capital class will gatekeep the good stuff faster than I expect.
But I’m not sweating it. My globetrotting taught me that plans are just guesses with PowerPoints.
What matters is staying curious, keeping my eyes open, and not taking myself too seriously. If I can do that while sipping a flat white in a sunlit corner of the world, I’m calling it a win.
The Road Ahead
So, where do I go from here? Not to some corner office or a LinkedIn profile with 500+ connections, that’s for damn sure.
Maybe I’ll settle in a sunny attic, invest (aka stonks) by day, and write snarky Substack posts by night. Maybe I’ll crash and pivot again. The future isn’t a destination – it’s a direction.
I’m aiming for a life where money buys freedom. Where I’m engaged with the world but not owned by it. Where purpose trumps productivity.
Will I get it all right? Hell no. But with a calm mind, a fit body, and a house full of love, I’m betting on sunlit serenity.
Cursed be the T-1000 of brioche buns.