Being a member of Gen-Y and raised in a large city, I’ve considered myself to be somewhat of a philosophical trailblazer, and certainly rebellious, anti-institutionalist, and a born feminist. Many of my peers have similar views, and I consider them to be innovative and for us to be from an extremely progressive era in time, nontraditional. What I thought was modern and anti-institutionalist of myself and my fellow peers seems to be only faux progressive in comparison to a recent encounter I met this past week.
This is the story about a man who lives his life solely for his own enjoyment. He’s my new landlord, and for privacy purposes, I’ll call him Mo. The first time I met Mo I was taken back by his obscure sense of humor and odd social tendencies that were typically outside the range of a normal middle-aged man, or anyone for that matter. Upon our first meeting when he was showing us a potential rental, he demanded we meet him at Hardy’s to talk business… I’d never been to Hardy’s, but I went with my two close friends, not sure what we were getting ourselves into. When we saw him on the sidewalk further down from us, he stood 6 ft 5", and was slinging his arms around like a hurricane above his head; must have been a dance he’d invented. Mo then started to do a slow robot walk back to his office next to Hardy’s. I couldn’t have guessed what I would learn over the next few meetings I would have with Mo; he would explain to us much of his life history, his routine and philosophies.
Mo wakes up, it’s his morning; 2:00 AM. According to him, he soaks in his hot tub alone located next to his supply of 15 kayaks (why he has that many for only him, I don’t know). After some time, he makes his way to Folly Beach. He has done this routine every morning for 7 years, he’s never missed a sunrise. Once at the beach he might get in the water if its warm, kayak, or do an activity he describes as “sand skiing”; not sure what that is either, but apparently it involves ski poles. After watching the sunrise, he eats at Lost Dog Every. Single. Morning. Mo orders the salmon salad, eats the salmon and takes the salad to go in his dingy black truck.Before returning home, Mo stops and works out more, “stretchy stretchy, bikey bikey” was how he put it. He later sneaks into the Marriott Continental Breakfast which is free (for guests only) and eats a second breakfast. After this he says he returns home and takes an hour long ride on his moped. Certainly, it could be noted that my landlord likes to enjoy himself in the most extreme sense of the word, but after all this self indulgence he apparently does his land lording duties, although I’ve heard he’s not exactly an expert. Mo works in an obscure manner, and is typically unprofessional and casual about his duties. His humor is hilarious if you take it as humor and can handle his easy-going methodology.
After work, round 4:30 PM, he sits in his barren living room that has no furnishings but the junk hoarded against the walls of the room, and a rocking chair that he’s converted into a message chair. He sits in front of his television that I gather is from the 90’s, and watches old movies he bought from Goodwill (he goes every week), “anything black and white”. He was working his way through his World War I and II movies last time we spoke. Mo retires to bed soon after and come 2AM he starts his whole day over again. I’d never met anyone who lived their lives so dependent on only what they wanted to do and not what they were supposed to or expected to do. His day focused around his own enjoyment, which is not a top priority of most adults I know. He didn’t care about being rich or having nice things, but instead Mo just wanted to live the lifestyle he created.
After hearing his daily routine my best friend looked at him with pity and asked, “so are you just your own best friend?”, I was thinking the same thing. What he answered was so unexpected, I’d never even considered it.
Mo told us he’d never had children, never had a wife (not surprised) but that he had dated several women whom all let him down in the end. He explained he had never liked the world outside of him, the society to which he was supposed to subscribe to, so he built himself a little world that he could enjoy forever. Immediately I thought “damn, we’re all looking at this guy like he’s crazy, but could he be right”. I didn’t stop thinking about him or the choices he's made, and the notion that he truly seemed happier than most of the 50-somethings I know. I’d never met someone who was so willing to stray from societal norms and the pressures to live according to the world’s schedule,and to truly live that way. Even people who claimed to be anti-conformist and liked to stick-it-to-the-man didn’t truly live the way they claimed, not like Mo did.
Perhaps his life will get you to thinking about your priorities and question what you’re actually working for. Make sure to follow up with the books Mo plans to write several years down the road when he takes his camper and moves into the woods, “you know, like that book Into the Wild”.
