Two Years Out

Will Rogers State Historic Park

The view from Will Rogers State Historic Park.


For those of you keeping score at home today marks the two year anniversary of a shocking event in history– my quitting of the job.

I know. I can’t believe it either. I feel like we all jumped off the cliff together (though you all are shockingly behind in your contributions to my rent and wine fund), and I’d love to tell you that in this time, I have gleaned the meaning of the life. Heck, I’d be happy having an inkling about the meaning of my life.

While that has not been the case thus far, the last two years have not gone with lessons:

  • As soon as you acknowledge that you have momentum, and the people around you tell you not to lose momentum, you will, in fact, lose momentum. This may only be limited to career issues, but I can tell you that the universe has an unfailing knack for catching on to your optimism and giving it a little squeeze. This doesn’t mean you should stop—it just means you should be prepared to duck.
  • Toxic relationships are called “toxic” for a reason. I think we all feel guilt when we leave them and feel a bit nobler for suffering in them. I’ve finally come to a place in my life where I understand that when a relationship is destructive, I need to get out of it. No one gives you a medal for being miserable the longest—which is sad because medals are shiny, and we’d all like one.
  • Legally, you can only say “I need a new plan and really stick to it this time” three times before you are required to make good on that promise. I know; it’s a law people don’t talk about very often, but I’m pretty sure it is on the books. Also, people stop believing you after the third declaration with no movement. Changing your hair color, apparently, doesn’t count. Pen and I have started having strategic planning meetings to combat the inevitable backsliding.
  • I have to share my writing in order for people to pay me for it.  Yes, that seems like something a child of two would be aware of, but it continues to be a challenge point for me. There’s a vulnerability that I’m still not comfortable with, but I’m getting there.
  • Always say “Yes” when Claire wants to fix you up with one of her friends. It doesn’t matter that most of you don’t know Claire. Just go with it.
  • Winning the lottery is an excellent goal for financing your future. Relying on the possibility of winning is not. Sadly.
  • I still have no concept of time. It seems as though every glance at the calendar reveals a different month, or season. I can make no sense of the notion that I left my job two years ago to embark on this little experiment.  And even though I’ve done quite a lot in these two years, I don’t feel them in any real way. I don’t know if that’s because every day isn’t necessarily a “present” experience for me (as I’m worrying about the past, or the future, instead), or if people never really feel the passage of time (unless we’re looking at photos of ourselves in the 80s with those haircuts). I’m a bit afraid that if I blink, suddenly it will be 2014.  And that would be unfortunate as, clearly, 2013 is my year.   



2 comments on “Two Years Out”

  1. Carey

    It’s been two whole years? Sheeeet…… Still, I have to hand it to you. Most people who were in mildly lucrative careers (like your previous one) don’t have the guts to follow their creative dreams, and you did. I say this honestly: you are one of the coolest chicks I know, but/and you’ve always been your harshest critic!! Also, on a side note – I’m jealous: you don’t look a day older since the day I met you, so I know you’ve got your Dorian Gray mirror in your west-coast-version-of-an-attic. You’re just as funny and kind and original as always. I’m proud of you, and I just wish I lived closer to you! Keep fighting.

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