My Story – And Why None of This Should Have Ever Happened

That’s me sitting underneath my mom’s hair. My Freelanceaholic life was almost cut short. I shouldn’t be alive. This dream of mine should never have happened. But it did…and now I have to share it with others.

Freelanceaholics is my blueprint for freedom and the culmination of everything I’ve learned on my journey from broke English teacher to location independent freelancer making over $5,000 per month writing web content and copy.

If I could do this, anyone can.


Because I’m a born fuck up. Just keeping it 100% honest.

I could never hold a job.

I was a notorious underachiever in school.

I was kicked out of college. I had to scrape and crawl my way back through community college just to get back in. Then…I dropped out anyway.

Hell, I barely passed my English teaching course and got several warnings from school about missing lessons or half-assing the ones I showed up to with a wicked hangover. Not my fault—when you live in Prague, you have beer for dinner with a side of food.

That was the story of my life for almost 26 years… until I found a high-paying career that let me be ME: Freelance copywriting (content writing, article writing, writing, whatever).

And then everything finally made sense…

It’s not that I couldn’t hold a job. No job could hold me.

I didn’t underachieve in school. School wasn’t designed to let me achieve.

I didn’t drop out of college. College…uh, actually wait, yeah I dropped out (sorry, Dad).

I’ve always been a great writer. And I’ve always been an imaginative storyteller. I have a gift for ideas and a curse for action (or lack thereof). I just never knew how to make money with my skills.

Until I discovered this career.

Honestly, I don’t know how this all happened. The last 5 years have been an 1800-day bender across Europe, Asia, and North America, but looking back on it, they’ve been the best years of my life.

I remember the day I quit my job officially. I popped open a bottle of wine and danced to “Jump in the Line (Shake, Shake Senora)” by Harry Belafonte around my room.

Since then, my career has taken me from Prague, across the world, and back again several times.

I’ve Freelanceaholic’d in:

Milford, Connecticut- My OG home sweet home. The MILF.

Home sweet home

Chiang Mai, Thailand – My favorite place in Asia. Nestled in the North of Thailand. Food paradise.

I spend every winter in the same city now. Chiang Mai!

Saigon, Vietnam: Wake up – get wired off of Vietnamese motor oil coffee – make $$$$ – party on Bui Vien – repeat.

Penang, Malaysia: Rooftop suite, $1 meals of the best food you’ve ever tasted, breathtaking views of the Strait of Malacca. Magic.

$500 a month. I love Malaysia. Beautiful landscapes, beautiful people, beautiful food. Can you describe food as beautiful? Fuck it, I just did.

Manila, Philippines – I barely remember.

Belgrade, Serbia – I don’t want to remember.

Bangkok, Thailand – Forgive me, Father. For I have…nevermind.

New York City, Montreal, Edinburgh, Paris, Berlin, Prague, Rome, Cagliari, Krakow, Athens, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Davao City, Bali, Tokyo, Seoul…that’s just off the top of my head.

Man, I’ve done everything. I should be dead, so I better live while I’m alive (**Bon Jovi Voice)

I’ve stayed in five-star rooftop suites in Kuala Lumpur. I’ve stayed in $2 hostels in Cebu City.

I’ve had more money than I knew what to do with. I’ve been so broke that I had to choose between dog food or Kevin food…I chose dog food.

I’ve woken up next to beautiful women in a duplex with a mountain view. I’ve woken up in a bathroom in Thailand with 0 recollection of the night before, no money, no credit card, no phone.

I’ve explored islands in a camper van, lived in my father’s truck for 2 months crisscrossing the USA, won $54,000 in a poker tournament in Las Vegas (squandered everything), taken trains across Europe, motorbikes around Asia, and planes to God-knows-where.

I moved away from home to a dream city, then left it. I got a job most people would kill for, then left that. I met the girl of my dreams who was way out of my league (more than once)…I left her too.

All for this lifestyle.

I feel like I’ve been running my whole life, and I still can’t escape who I am: a traveling, partying, up-fucking freelancer. A Freelanceaholic.

I belong to the road.

And none of this should be possible….

Things have been a tad rocky for me since birth. Right away, things weren’t quite right:

🙁 Polaroid makes me feel old. Handsome as hell back then though.

Heart disease, stomach issues, throat not working—there were some bugs in my genetic code. I wish they had done some testing before making me go live. I was also anemic, because fuck it, why not just pile more shit on anyway?

After an atrial septal defect repair, TE fistula, Angioplasty, and Tracheostomy, things started to get better.

Is it just me or did I ALREADY HAVE A BEER BELLY as an infant? Fresh stomach scar there.

But all of the doctors in the world couldn’t save me from late-80’s/early-90’s hairstyles:

Not sure what’s worse: The hair, the trach, or the shirt.

Even with all of the issues, I still had a fairly normal childhood in America. Which in the early 90s meant one thing and one thing only: Super Nintendo!

Who was in charge of my hair back then? Mom? What the hell?

Recovery was still a round-the-clock endeavor. I wasn’t out of the woods yet:

For some reason, my sister thought my room was hers too. Notice the dope ass bed sheets.

Anyways, I don’t have too many memories of life with a trach. Just a few memories of discomfort and slight pain. I remember sitting around wondering why everyone was so careful with me and why I was only the one nobody ever yelled at or got into a fight with.

And now it finally makes sense: They must have thought I was mentally handicapped because of my mushroom cut:

Was my grandmother in KISS? What’s up with the couch?

It sounds strange, but growing up sick—always in and out of hospitals, trips to Washington DC to see specialists, blood transfusions, barium swallows, heart medication, regular checkups, my bleach blond hair in a bowl—is probably the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

Now, I have something that most people don’t get until they’re old: an understanding of their own mortality. Perspective. Gratitude.

Oh, by the way, my hair didn’t get much better by the time I was 18. Warning, what you’re about to see may be disturbing to some viewers….

Freelanceaholics is more than freelance writing tips and a blueprint to success. It’s a guide on how to achieve freedom and finally start living. Life is short. Life is beautiful. You just need to live it.

The vast majority of kids with my genetic issues either die or live life without the ability to talk…or even worse than that.

I owe it to them. I owe it to my family. And I owe it to everyone that has helped me along the way to give back. To help others.

The odds of a straight flush are 3,589.6:1. I’ve made a life out of beating the odds, though. Nothing like winning the high-hand jackpot your first week in Vietnam.

That’s what I will do with Freelanceaholics. I’ve achieved my dream. Now I want to help you achieve yours.

My favorite photo. Just because the road ends, doesn’t mean you can’t go further. Or some fake, trying-too-hard-to-sound-deep bullshit like that.
– Kevin Meng