My first blog post. I’m a little terrified…
I used to be doing everything I thought I was supposed to be doing. At 19, I started questioning it. I thought “do I really want to get this engineering degree?” I contemplated education instead, but I had already put so much time into math and science, so hey why not keep going? Good jobs and all, right? I graduated and got a job. Stability, perks, benefits, travel, responsibility, and enough money to survive on my own. I saw my future, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. To sum it up, here’s a pic a coworker took (and captioned) during a typical day. This is right before I got screamed at by several construction workers, store owners, and police officers for not being able to move the machine out of the road. And see, taking photos is basically all I’m good for anyway…
So then I watched some Ted Talks like this. I traveled to a few different countries. I started taking a lot of photos. I started questioning things again. I got hung up on the word “passion.” I was making money but had little time to spend it. I enjoyed living in various states but hated missing friends and family as a consequence. So I thought about it a lot, and one day it clicked. I didn’t need a solution, I just had to leave. I had no idea what I would do, but I distinctly remember the moment that I knew I had to go figure it out. So I called in my two weeks notice, and I started writing. An excerpt from my first journal entry:
“Fifty two days until I will be unemployed. My comfort level with this decision varies like my pulse. I have an ideal version of my life, a realistic version, and an unfamiliar worst case scenario.
Ideally, I move to the city (Chicago) – some low-rent but high-character apartment w/in walking distance to everything and everyone. I am creating, loving, learning, failing, succeeding, growing. I see home/college friends regularly but also begin to spend time w/ new friends from my new exciting creative world. I have no regrets.
Realistically, I find part time work, live with a friend, find creative outlets and eventually turn them into a job. I see some old friends, make new ones slowly. I don’t regret leaving Cat, but occasionally question my happiness in Chicago. I’m still happier than I was.
Worst case scenario: I live [with my parents], gain 20 lbs, realize I look horrible w/ long hair, my identity is stolen, I leave home to prove myself, I work part time at a bar cleaning bathroom vomit and mopping stale beer, I see friends out of pity (for me), and I get frostbite in the winter. Oh and I buy a dog and it dies. I blame myself.”