Ferrari and the Diamonds

Evening Everybody. On Sunday evening I overtook a 2011 Ferrari 430 Scuderia on a dual carriageway. My first reaction was one of “oh yeah!!!!!!” as I went past in my 16 year old BMW....But then, as I looked across to see who the fella was, I saw a lad younger than myself grasping on the wheel for dear life whilst his dad (who’s present I imagine it was) was giving him encouraging yet apprehensive looks/advice/twitches.

 I felt pride for a moment, (“oh yeah!”) for overtaking a car worth 150x the value of mine, but then I felt kinda sorry for the kid. I mean, you’re meant to enjoy presents, money, wealth, fame et cetera. Ultimately they’re meant to open doors and opportunities, not make you worried or nervous about every passing moment...or car. 

“At first I lolled...and then I serious’ed!” Goes the famous internet picture, and so, I in turn serious’ed about the pursuit of personal wealth as opposed to the pursuit of one’s dreams. This residing image, of this scared kid in a Ferrari, a lad who’s monetary dreams had shaped his own emotions to such an extent that he was petrified of his own possessions (albeit temporary ones) was the main factor in me making a critical life decision. I won’t say what in case it all falls apart, but in a life where we all care what people think of us (even if we say we don’t) I’d much rather be a poor postgraduate than be a rich David Brent. Remember kids, someone can steal a Maserati but can never steal a Masters from you. 

I’m not saying don’t achieve to do well in life financially; nobody likes being poor. Just you know, try not to be a dick about it. Otherwise, it’ll bite you in the arse. As this chestnut from www.truelad.com (the steroid-fuelled masculine version of PostSecret) states:

My old man gave me a Porsche Boxster when I passed my driving test (well-to-do LAD). Feel like a bit of a tosser driving it aged 18 but if the old man gives, what's a LAD to do eh? Anyway, within a week I'm at the petrol station filling up when an evidently shitLAD in a 911 Turbo pulls up: Prada sunnies, over-oranged and over-plasticed (but nonetheless 7/10 missus in the passenger seat and all. Revs his engine, calls over: "Mate, when you gonna get a real Porsche"? I screw my petrol cap back on, replace the pump, look over and reply: "Probably when I leave school". WAG pisses herself, I go inside and buy a Ginsters sausage roll and a Ribena. Spoilt onelinerLAD

Alas, this bloggo post isn’t saying much and there’s no real message to it (in this aspect I feel I am now a qualified to write for The Guardian) except whatever you wanna do in life, do it. Don’t be sidetracked by Ferraris or hedge funds cos in the words of our greatest contemporary philosopher, Marina Diamandis: “If you’re not very careful your possessions will possess you, TV taught me how to feel, now real life has no appeal.”

Live the dream. 

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