When I first told my mother I was a millionaire, her response was:
“So what? You don’t even have a house.”
Didn’t matter if the houses in Toronto were unaffordable. Didn’t matter if I didn’t want to work a stressful job I hated just to pay off a massive mortgage. Didn’t matter if I have enough money to live the rest of my life with complete freedom, never having to set foot in a corporate prison again.
Without a house, I was a loser.
My parents and I barely speak anymore. Other than the occasional e-mail or phone call, we haven’t seen each other in a year. What’s the point? It’d just be the same fight every time.
My friends think I’m nuts. They think I’m anti-house for the sake of being anti-house. They think I’m having SO much fun being a contrarian. But what they don’t see is that, as the child of Chinese immigrants, it’s sacrilegious to not buy a house. Home ownership is part of our culture. It’s part of our DNA. Financial Samurai can back me up here. In Asian cultures, paper assets aren’t real. Only things you can touch with your hands are.
So even though I knew that logic and statistics and cold hard MATH told me I was right, because of my culture I had to get disowned for believing that the purpose of money wasn’t to buy granite countertops, hardwood floors, or soaker tubs.
The purpose of money is to buy…
Time is our most precious resource. We can always make more money, but we can’t make more time.
So I decided to buy back my time. Instead of paying off a mortgage for 30 years, waiting until I was 65, only to get too sick and too bedridden to travel, I decided to build a 7-figure portfolio, live off the passive income, travel the world, volunteer for non-profits, and be an author/blogger instead.