One of the putrid masses

So it dawned on me tonight. I am in my mid twenties and unemployed. I have no health insurance, currently live with my parents who pay my phone bill and I have an idea for my own independent business. I have joined the ranks of a zombie demographic that is mutually despised by the western “adult” (a word that really has little meaning by the way) world. Hell, even I scoff at (what is now) my own kind.

And for fuck’s sake, I’m writing all about it in a blog. Just piling it on.

So how do I live with myself, seeing as I’m so acutely aware of my infection? I make it worse, I make it better. Whatever I do, I don’t let it fester.

How I’m making it worse:

I’m shipping off to East Lansing, Michigan in a little under a week. On the way I’m stopping off for a tiny, tiny vacation in America’s pit of under achievement (and good times and great beer), Portland, Oregon. Once I get there I will be jobless, aside from a small project I am working on for my Web Content Freelance business I intend (note: intend) to formulate and launch within the next couple months. I will be rent-less, bumming off my decidedly more responsible (and incredibly wonderful) girlfriend all while hoping that one of the many resumes and cover letters I send out will receive at least a response, let alone a positive one. In the mean time all I can do is hope that I avoid the milk-frothing machines and magnetic name tags.

How I’m making it better:

I’m shipping off to East Lansing, Michigan in a little under a week. On the way I’m stopping off for a tiny, tiny vacation in Portland, Oregon: a place I credit with spurring my independence and look back upon with fond memories. Once I get there I will be jobless, but I’ll spend every day hunting and sending resumes till I’m given an opportunity. My hope is to get a regular job as a Web Content or SEO manager, but I’m also entertaining the idea of Technical or Copy writing. I will also partition off a portion of every day to work on my side project: a web design/content creation freelance business of my own. I already have one client and am trying to land another. Somewhere amongst all of that, I need to start writing again. I’m giving myself six months to churn out my first novel. I will be rent-less, thanks to my supportive girlfriend. While I intend to spend my life with this girl, I know that I must spread out my burden upon her. I can’t use all that patience up within the first five years.

I don’t have a specific plan, but I have a direction

I don’t have specific goals, but I have ideas

And my directions have become actions

And my ideas have become projects

So how do I escape the zombies from pulling me in? I keep moving. Whether I’m moving forward or backwards is irrelevant and inaccurate. We live in a sphere, not on a line. I’m just following the light and praying it’s not a candle that will singe my little wings off. And if it is, so be it. I’ll crawl around on my belly till Buddha comes along and reincarnates me into a larva.

……I fear I’m mixing and muddling my analogies

So before this post degrades even more, let me wrap it up.

What is boils down to is this: I’m not looking to start a new life in East Lansing. I already have a life, and it’s pretty damn great. I’m not looking to redefine who I am, or do some soul searching, or even have a great time. Much of that may happen incidentally (that last one for sure) but such motives are for you younger folk. I know what I want. I know who I want. I think I can work on cementing those things in Michigan.

So here I go. Crow bar in hand, swinging for heads.


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