It’s almost 2019 and I promised myself I would have my life together by 2019. And that matters. Because this honey sets deadlines and she sticks to them, duh.
Everyone has been telling me I need to get a job. All successful adults have jobs. Literally everyone has a job. One day I was walking down Sunset Blvd. and I looked at everyone and thought, “Wow, he has a job…she has a job…I bet they have jobs too. Look! A delivery man, that’s a job”. I was like a kid in a candy store realizing everyone had jobs. Except there seemed to be no candy for me.
I quit my job a little over a year ago because I felt like it was literally eating my soul alive. So this time around, I decided I would get a job that didn’t suck the life from me. And I would have time to travel and work on my foundation and still be home enough for my puppy. Guess what? That job doesn’t exist when you’re 2 years out of college. So I’m still not getting a mother f*cking job. And yes, I will have my life together by 2019. I will have my life together by next mother f*cking week.
I can see this shitty jobless situation as an opportunity to uplift myself and do what I’ve wanted to be doing all along. Working for myself, building my own businesses, being able to afford to vacation whenever I want. I’ve been applying to jobs for weeks now and I’ve always been someone who’s, “never not gotten a job” until now. So imagine me screaming, “DEAR GOD, WHY NOW”.
Well, I think God wants me to get off my ass and do what I was put here to do. Has anyone else noticed my blog is the only thing I do semi-consistently? I’m a writer. I write. I could use some writing classes, but all professionals build on their craft. I am a professional. I have a craft. I’m a writer.
(BTW, I wrote an ebook that people still buy 🤯)
I’m not getting a job because I’m starting a freelance writing business. A real business. Not Upwork or Fiverr. This weekend.
Where is all this coming from? Well, I was seeing this guy and one day we were talking about futures and he said he believed in me. Obviously I rolled my eyes, but in the back of my mind I made note: he “believed” in me, why didn’t I believe in myself?
I know writers don’t make shit tons of money (traditionally) but I’ve never done anything traditionally. And when I care to try, I typically do really well. I’m going to believe in myself and I’m going to start a business built on my talents. And then I’m going to use that money to start a foundation that helps other young women start businesses built on their talents.
I’m not getting a fucking job.
They gone have to kill me Grandmama, I’m not they slave.
Song of the Day: What’s Free x Meek Mill 👅 (Jay Z’s verse specifically)