"So, you really gone pursue the acting thing now?"
"Are you gonna have another regular job?"
"Bout time you quit that 9 to 5!"
"Being an artist is a job, take the leap"
Peace ya'll, happy 2017. I know, I'm a little late. Let me just say, I've missed ya'll. But hey, everyone needs that break to step back and check in with themselves. Like, "Aye girl, is you cool or is you straight?" (Birdman hand rub).
A lot has transpired since we last spoke. I milly rocked my way into 2017 on a wing and a prayer, hoping to see some big changes, good changes, eye openers, new challenges. Well, God spoke and I was faced with the ultimate challenge. Something I had never done before. Something that scared the bad and bougie out of me. Quitting my 9 to 5 to pursue my dreams.
The myth of the regular 9 to 5 is the whole feeling of comfort. Not only comfort in your finances, comfort in your weekly routine, comfort that you have money in your account when that auto pay hits every month. I have NEVER had anything on auto pay. I determine when you get this money. Hell, somebody not getting paid this month and it might be you. Ya'll hella rich. Auto pay. Man, please. Sometimes, its not as comforting as we think.
After returning to Chicago in September and taking on the full time job that wasn't my cup of tea to start with and pushing through for six months hoping for a miracle, I decided to try to make the miracles happen on my own. Now, if you're reading this thinking that I'm about to glamorize taking a leap of faith and bash those who work a regular job, you got it all wrong, homie. It's been nearly three months and I've experienced every emotion in the book. But there is nothing like that feeling of never having to go back.
FREEDOM: This is usually the initial feeling. If you've ever quit a stressful job, walked off of a job or got fired from a job that you probably didn't like anyway, then you know what I'm talking about. You damn near skipping through work the entire day. Can't wait to get off and kick it the whole weekend and you might even indulge in a Sunday Funday since you don't have to work the next morning. Plus, you just got paid and you're expecting one more paycheck from them and you're a hustler, so your money will be back up in no time. *Pours liquor in red cup*
Two weeks later, its setting in.
CONFUSION : "Fam, I really quit my job. Like, I'm really out here. Did I do the right thing? Of course I did, I didnt want to be there. Was it at the right time though? Of course. What am I going to do now? Where do I start?" After you officially come down from your high, you have your moment of reflection and maybe even a little shock. In this time, I wandered around and tried every opportunity I could get my hands on. Some fell through, some came through.
Time goes by, you finally accept it. You're broke.
STRUGGLE : "Ohhh, so that's why I put up with those anxiety attacks that job was giving me. I was getting that check." I can't tell ya'll how many nights on the town, brunches, day drinks, shows, trips, that I've had to turn down. Because after I pay rent, I got a balance of "$". That's it. I'm so broke, I can't even afford the zeros, just the dollar sign.
Here you are, no secure job. No benefits. Only side hustles. There's no going back. But suddenly, just when you're all geared up to go into full panic mode, things start falling into place one by one.
CONFIRMATION : During this time, I've done a lot of questioning myself. Should I have even moved to Chicago? Am I crazy for always taking these huge leaps? Is this dream really meant for me? But the answers have always been right in front of me. If I never moved to Chicago, I wouldn't have hosted my first show, which turned into me co-hosting a radio show, which put me in a dope position to make new friends. If I never took that job, I wouldn't have met the people that put me on some cool side hustles that ended up paying my bills the last couple of months. And if I never quit that job, I would of never gotten to watch Law and Order in the middle of the day while drinking a cheap Sangria and daydreaming about braiding Ice Tea's ponytail.
If ya'll haven't figured it out yet, my New Year's resolution was to stop doing things that make me unhappy. Whether it be working an awful job, attending a trash event, eating pancakes that don't have crispy edges, being friends with weirdos on Facebook or wearing cute shoes that hurt. I'M NOT DOING IT! And neither should you, it's not worth it.
The moral of the story is, do what you gotta do. If you feel like it's time to quit that job, get out of there. If you're in a good place at your 9 to 5, stay there. But please, do what makes you happy and what works for you. Unless you out here selling booty. Don't do that.
-BRIT
"Are you gonna have another regular job?"
"Bout time you quit that 9 to 5!"
"Being an artist is a job, take the leap"
Peace ya'll, happy 2017. I know, I'm a little late. Let me just say, I've missed ya'll. But hey, everyone needs that break to step back and check in with themselves. Like, "Aye girl, is you cool or is you straight?" (Birdman hand rub).
A lot has transpired since we last spoke. I milly rocked my way into 2017 on a wing and a prayer, hoping to see some big changes, good changes, eye openers, new challenges. Well, God spoke and I was faced with the ultimate challenge. Something I had never done before. Something that scared the bad and bougie out of me. Quitting my 9 to 5 to pursue my dreams.
The myth of the regular 9 to 5 is the whole feeling of comfort. Not only comfort in your finances, comfort in your weekly routine, comfort that you have money in your account when that auto pay hits every month. I have NEVER had anything on auto pay. I determine when you get this money. Hell, somebody not getting paid this month and it might be you. Ya'll hella rich. Auto pay. Man, please. Sometimes, its not as comforting as we think.
After returning to Chicago in September and taking on the full time job that wasn't my cup of tea to start with and pushing through for six months hoping for a miracle, I decided to try to make the miracles happen on my own. Now, if you're reading this thinking that I'm about to glamorize taking a leap of faith and bash those who work a regular job, you got it all wrong, homie. It's been nearly three months and I've experienced every emotion in the book. But there is nothing like that feeling of never having to go back.
FREEDOM: This is usually the initial feeling. If you've ever quit a stressful job, walked off of a job or got fired from a job that you probably didn't like anyway, then you know what I'm talking about. You damn near skipping through work the entire day. Can't wait to get off and kick it the whole weekend and you might even indulge in a Sunday Funday since you don't have to work the next morning. Plus, you just got paid and you're expecting one more paycheck from them and you're a hustler, so your money will be back up in no time. *Pours liquor in red cup*
Two weeks later, its setting in.
CONFUSION : "Fam, I really quit my job. Like, I'm really out here. Did I do the right thing? Of course I did, I didnt want to be there. Was it at the right time though? Of course. What am I going to do now? Where do I start?" After you officially come down from your high, you have your moment of reflection and maybe even a little shock. In this time, I wandered around and tried every opportunity I could get my hands on. Some fell through, some came through.
Time goes by, you finally accept it. You're broke.
STRUGGLE : "Ohhh, so that's why I put up with those anxiety attacks that job was giving me. I was getting that check." I can't tell ya'll how many nights on the town, brunches, day drinks, shows, trips, that I've had to turn down. Because after I pay rent, I got a balance of "$". That's it. I'm so broke, I can't even afford the zeros, just the dollar sign.
Here you are, no secure job. No benefits. Only side hustles. There's no going back. But suddenly, just when you're all geared up to go into full panic mode, things start falling into place one by one.
CONFIRMATION : During this time, I've done a lot of questioning myself. Should I have even moved to Chicago? Am I crazy for always taking these huge leaps? Is this dream really meant for me? But the answers have always been right in front of me. If I never moved to Chicago, I wouldn't have hosted my first show, which turned into me co-hosting a radio show, which put me in a dope position to make new friends. If I never took that job, I wouldn't have met the people that put me on some cool side hustles that ended up paying my bills the last couple of months. And if I never quit that job, I would of never gotten to watch Law and Order in the middle of the day while drinking a cheap Sangria and daydreaming about braiding Ice Tea's ponytail.
If ya'll haven't figured it out yet, my New Year's resolution was to stop doing things that make me unhappy. Whether it be working an awful job, attending a trash event, eating pancakes that don't have crispy edges, being friends with weirdos on Facebook or wearing cute shoes that hurt. I'M NOT DOING IT! And neither should you, it's not worth it.
The moral of the story is, do what you gotta do. If you feel like it's time to quit that job, get out of there. If you're in a good place at your 9 to 5, stay there. But please, do what makes you happy and what works for you. Unless you out here selling booty. Don't do that.
-BRIT
Nice post about "IF I GOTTA QUIT MY JOB, IMMA MAKE IT LOOK SEXY"
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