When I tell you the devil is busy. I got some bad news today and it’s just really making me think about my life and what in the hell I’m doing with it. Like I said, the devil is busy, but I hold on to the belief that God is busier. I also hold on the belief that God helps those who help themselves.
And right now I’m struggling…I’m struggling with a quandary that I’ve contemplated most of my working years: do I play it safe or take a risk? There’s a part of me that likes to think that I’m a risk taker, and so I’ve been told. I suspect people have told me that because the “risks” that I’ve taken would have been more of a risk for them than it was for me. When you do something others are afraid to do, naturally you appear to be a risktaker. However, when I look back over my life, I don’t think most of the risks that I’ve taken were that risky…then again, some of them were quite costly, so I guess that is a risk.
I think the one thing I did that was actually quite risky is when I moved to New York. I’d been living in Atlanta for two years working on my masters degree, and when I finished my classes I set my sights on the Big Apple, even though I didn’t complete my thesis to earn my degree.
I knew nothing and no one in New York. I had no job lined up nor a place to live, but as my lease was coming to an end, I began selling all my things, from my car to a fucking blender, in preparation for my move to the Big City of Dreams.
I arrived in New York with about $3000 to my name. After about a week I found a place to stay. After about a month, just as my $3000 was running out, I got a steady temp job. But about two months after that, the temp job would be over and not long after that I would need to find a new place to live. That was the story of my life in New York for the almost two years that I lived there. I went there to get into media – specifically magazine journalism and found myself working at some really cool places, dream places even, but never was able to convert myself from a temp to a regular employee. Had no idea how that would work, and ultimately it didn’t. I came back home and I’ve been home ever since.
That was 16 years ago. And I feel like ever since then, I’ve been playing it safe. I’ve worked minimum-wage jobs, part-time jobs, jobs that required me to have a degree, jobs that didn’t. I’ve taken these jobs because I feel as an adult with bills that’s the responsible thing to do. But it seems that doing the responsible thing has kept me from my dreams. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t believe in my dreams enough to make them come true.
Like right now is the perfect time for me to go balls to the wall after my dreams: I don’t have a job, I have a little money in the bank, plus I get unemployment. If ever I was going to pursue something, now is the time to shoot my shot. Yet I feel like I just let most of the day waste away. My money in the bank is finite. That unemployment I get is finite. I have expensive taste. Even though I’m cheap as fuck I want to do a lot of expensive shit. There’s no way around it, I need money to do it.
I have to work harder. I have to work smarter so that I can have the freedom to create the life that I want. Otherwise, I’m going to find myself at another job I don’t like.
It’s time for me to bet on myself. It’s time for me to believe in me, and get my ass in gear.
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