One thing I am really trying to do with this whole blog thing is be as real as possible. There’s 18188450401 thousand bloggers out there posting their outfits and their liketoknowit things everyday and that’s it. There’s no real engagement with people who follow them or any personal hints into their own lives. I totally get it, their Instagrams are just a business, a job they need to get done. There’s something to be said about shared experiences as humans. Stay with me here, I know I sound corny, but the biggest thing I learned while studying copious amounts of literature is that we love to be validated and feel included in our consumption of entertainment. What I mean by that is, we love watching, reading, listening, engaging with things that relate to us and our lives and things that make us say “hah I get that! I must be in this cool group of cool people who get that.” Literally for CENTURIES, people have loved “relatable” shit all the way back to Shakespeare. Everyone wants to be liked and everyone wants to be a part of some sort of group, I don’t care who you are.
Taking that into consideration, I one hundred percent believe in sharing my experiences with people. I know social media and blogging is seen as taboo, but it’s not going anywhere anytime soon, so take advantage. I’ve met some amazing girls just from replying to people’s insta stories and I can’t tell you how valuable that is. Therefore, I wanted to share this with you guys: I quit my job. I quit my good-paying, very nice, very stable job so that I can fall head-first into unknown territory and hope I don’t fall flat on my face (and move back to Louisiana and live with my mom). I must be crazy, right? The job I had was mostly a lot of data. It had almost nothing to do with writing or editing or anything creative whatsoever. As long as its money, I thought, that’s the most important thing. I could do my blog on the side and everything would be fine! Turns out, money isn’t everything and I started to just feel drained. I was blogging, but half-assed. My heart really wasn’t in it and I definitely was holding back. I made money, but I felt like I never got to spend any of it because I always felt broke. I went on one interview with a very snooty girl who blatantly asked me, “So what are your goals?” Very easy question and I almost said what I’d been saying for years: Editor. Of course this job had nothing to do with editing, so I had to just make up something I knew she probably wanted to hear. After that, I mentally shook myself and thought, “WHAT AM I DOING?” People kept telling me how I was “living my best life,” but it was starting to feel like I was only doing that on weekends.
Call me crazy, but I wanna be one of those people who actually enjoys what I have to wake up and do every morning. We’ve normalized the notion that doing what you actually want to do with your life isn’t attainable and hating your job is “fine.” I didn’t pack up my whole life, buy a one-way ticket, and stay in a weird apartment above a bar, with a bunch of DUDES for six months so that my life could be “fine.” I came here to do what I’ve always wanted to do because when I’m old and grey sitting on my wrap-around porch in North Carolina, (or south Carolina, I’m not picky), I want to say with certainty that at the very least I gave it my best shot.
For now, I’ll be posting and writing a lot more since my blog has been taking a back seat. Thanks for following me on my strange journey and send me some good vibes, (plz).
I Don't Even Have a "Pla" 