The Examined Life of the Sellout
I’ve been a sellout many times in my life. For definition, let’s say that sellouts are when you apply your ability and talent to something that isn’t for your purpose in life, it’s for somebody else’s. The theory of the sellout is that they happen because selling out is practical, it’s prudent and it seems like a good, secure, long-term choice. However, they’re called sellouts because they go against your very fibre. You give up (sell) a piece of your soul for comfort. You pursue someone else’s interest in return for compensation.
I’d like to take a look at some of my sellouts, in the order that they have happened:
* I trusted the educational system with too much of my maturation and development of knowledge and pursued all manner of academic success in highschool. I devoted excessive time that could have been spent pursuing my own interests to learning how to differentiate between chemical oxidation and reduction, a sonnet and iambic pentameter and a circle’s radius versus its diameter.
* I chose to take Commerce (business school) in University, not because of some overwhelming passion for business, but because it was the path to secure, well-paid employment.
* I accepted positions of employment because of title and pay, not because of my personal affinity for the topic.
* I engaged, interacted and gave respect to undeserving individuals who held influence. I shared ideas not for innovation and effectiveness, but to impress.
A couple of weak defenses of my actions might help me feel better here. First is the fact that this is what I was advised to do. I followed the path that was laid out for me. That’s weak, because I was sentient when all these sellouts took place. I always had a choice… I just didn’t acknowledge it. My second defense – I could have done more selling out, or I could have done it for an entire career. I think it could easily be argued that I continue to sell out, but I’m happy to say I’ve recognized it and am taking steps to repair the damage.
The damage, however, is quite interesting and hard to repair. To start with, sellouts aren’t exactly natural, so they’re hard to sustain. When we’re doing something contrary to our being routinely each day, we’re ultimately stealing days we won’t get back that could be happier. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
There’s the damage of how being a sellout seems to tie our hands, too. It comes in the shape of established levels of comfort and expectation that are extremely hard to dismiss. They come in the form of a mortgage that was accepted in headier times and a lifestyle best described as a hedonic treadmill.
The damage is a reluctance to try new things, to depart from this game’s “winning strategy” even as the rules of the game are changing.
The damage is a fear of the actions that could address our mistakes but haven’t received acceptance from family, parents, peers, friends, teachers or bosses.
The damage is the fear of ending up living in a van down by the river.
All that is strong, but it doesn’t quite overpower the knowledge that there are ways to add value and be true to your passion. Even when all the comforts of being a sellout are calling me to stop, relax and be enveloped in their charms, I can’t help but remember that those sellout actions aren’t my agenda. They’re just the choices I’ve made.
I guess I’m saying that the one thing more powerful than all the comforts of the life of the sellout is the peace that comes with pursuing my own agenda.

