From Great Risk Comes Great Forward

DAY EIGHTY-FIVE: The Pauper Settles In

A weird feeling has recently passed over me.  It's weird because it's so foreign.  It's not something I've felt for the last quarter of my life.  And though I'm not foolish enough to believe it will last for years to come, I can confidently say that in this moment... I'm happy with my life.

What brought me to this utterance?  A risk.  A big one.  When I was a freshman in college - a point in my life where the world felt like the proverbial oyster - a senior I knew from College Democrats bestowed some advice upon me.  She was at an age where the world seemed less like an oyster and more like an ominous void.  But when she was discussing her plans to do Teach for America in a new city she knew no one in, she explained, "If the decision isn't scary, it's probably not the right decision to make."

Scary life decisions are the most difficult to make.  It's all there in the title, so it's not like I'm making a grand statement that will open people's eyes.  But one of the hardest things you or I will ever do is step outside of our comfort zone.  That warm security blanket that makes the day to day easier, but the long run impossible.

At the beginning of August, the idea of quitting my job seemed, ironically, impossible.  Why on earth would I leave the thing that has kept me going for four plus years?  This is what people do.  They graduate from college, find themselves a job, and they stick by it to ensure a life of financial stability.  But when you graduate in the midst of a recession, you get this curve ball that requires a bit of risk.

In 2009, the place mats where set for a life of drudgery for Miss Hannah Williams.  Working in a position so far from my major that I trained myself to laugh every time I admitted the difference.  "Majored in film?  What are you doing now?"  "I work at a law firm... yuck, yuck, yuck."

But it took a low point at work to point me in the right direction.  A moment of realization that spending my life hating the days and yearning for the nights would do nothing but subject me to a life of misery and regret.

Regret: The biggest devil of them all.  After a collegiate romance gone astray because I felt too inferior to reveal my true feelings, I promised myself I would never regret the things that I didn't do, but would rather regret the things that I did.  I took this to heart, but relegated them to my romantic life, as I thought anything else was merely what I "should" be doing.  And it took four years to realize that there is no "should" in our professional lives.  There is simply what we do.

So on that fateful day in August, when the fates fed me a can of unnecessary "whoop ass" at work, I realized that I simply could not carry on in this charade.  Paychecks weren't enough to keep me going.  Life had other plans for me, I was certain.  But I had eked out everything I could from four years of professional ambiguity.  It was time to take a risk.

I'll admit that waiting tables hadn't felt like my proudest moment.  In the beginning, I welled up inside nearly every day I slipped on my uniform and stared at myself in the mirror before I walked out the door.  Last week, I encountered a father and his collegiate daughter who asked me what I had majored in when I studied at Loyola.  I felt ashamed.  Telling this man that I attended school four years ago and now I am serving him and his daughter pizza with my degree.  It wasn't exactly what I pictured myself doing when I wore that cap and gown in the spring of 2009.

But then I added in, "I'm studying at Second City now."  And I continued to recommend some shows to him.  And I realized, I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I was working in a job that sucked my soul away like some kind of legalese Dementor.  And I had the balls to walk away from it.  And now I'm starting over.  There is no shame in changing your life.

And now, I stand as a woman who walks into work joyously.  My coworkers are wonderful.  I am obliged to improv with tables on a daily basis.  I wake up in the mornings and get to write instead of hopping into the shower to go to a job that will do absolutely nothing for me beyond giving me rent.  I have a new show opening next year.  I feel confident.  I feel strong.  And I feel happy.

The dust has settled around the rough patch of my risk.  And from it, the phoenix rises.  Though the future remains uncertain, it's a hell of a lot clearer than a life resigned to apathy.

The Railroad Tracks on the Horizon

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT: The Pauper Gains Perspective

I'm about to blow your mind grapes: We all see things differently.  Not simply because our life experiences dictate how we perceive any new hurdle presented to us, but because of perspective.  Perspective is the reason this street art:

Is not nearly as impressive as this:

It's the reason members of the Academy in 1942 believed How Green Was My Valley to be superior to a movie that is now widely considered the greatest American film ever made.

Sorry guys, though it fits most of the above description, this movie unfortunately didn't come out until 2011.

And it's the reason someone like Chris Brown can't understand why the world would be a better place if he simply moved to Northern Canada and let the polar bears deal with him.

But even the polar bears beg for sweet, sweet respite.

We see things how we see them because few of us have the range of [e]motions to comprehend a life outside of where we stand.  To do that takes experience.  So for the unexperienced, we often need to take alternative measures to see the truth in a situation.

I had a conversation with a friend the other day.  I wasn't feeling particularly optimistic about my circumstance.  I had made the difficult choice to spend my first Christmas alone in the name of waiting tables.  I've made very little progress in the search for a better "grown up" job outside of submitting resumes until my fingers bled.  And a lack of creative confidence still plagues my thoughts as I stare into the abyss known as "social media helps me see why everyone is so much better off than I am."  So my friend did the best thing he could have done for me, he told me I was being "daft".

He proceeded to point out the fact that I made a decision knowing it would take some time.  He pointed out that it had been roughly 6 weeks since I left my job.  That I have multiple creative opportunities on the horizon.  That this job is only as temporary as I want it to be.  That in order to be what I truly want to be, I am exactly where I need to be.  He gave me perspective.

Some times it's easier to get a hold of perspective.  In the case of the street art, you could just stumble upon the correct spot to view it's ingenuity.  

Other times, there's no way to gain perspective outside of time doing all of the work; as is the case of a film like Citizen Kane losing the title of "Best Picture" in 1942, while being lauded as the great American masterpiece nearly every subsequent year.

But when you don't have the time or the internal ability to avoid a state of mental collapse, the brutal honesty and insight of others can help you see what you can't.  It's a gift for which I am incredibly thankful.  And though my perspective will waiver as my days ebb and flow, I can fall back on the knowledge that where I am now is not absolutely where I will always be.  A simple truth that isn't necessarily so simple when you are too close to the edge of despair to see properly.

Now who is ready to Clockwork Orange the vitriolic piss out of Chris Brown with me?

Opportunity, Meet Change

DAY SEVENTY-THREE: The Pauper Tumbles with the Weeds

So I have taken a job.  A job shilling pizza pies to customers in the Loop.  A job that will pay my bills, force me to improv with humans on a daily basis, and could possibly prevent me from seeing my family come this holiday season.

And with that, I had a bit of a breakdown last week.  I was overwhelmed by a new position.  I was overwhelmed with the possibility of not spending my Christmas season with loved ones.  And I was overwhelmed with the idea that I will never supersede mediocrity.

I am essentially at the same place I was when I graduated from high school.  A little backstory, if you will allow.  When I graduated from high school, I had very little stakes in quitting my job at Bon-Ton (an east coast version of JCPenney's.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to lose my home (thanks, Mom and Dad.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to lose my car (thanks, Mom and Dad.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to starve (thanks, Mom and Dad.)

But at 17, those responsibilities were figments of my imagination.  Instead, my reality was, if I have no income, I can't go to the movies (Revenge of the Sith came out that year!)  If I have no income, I can't drive around relentlessly with my friends while chatting about life.  If I have no income, I can't go to T.G.I. Friday's this Friday and get the the chocolate cheesecake swirl dessert (I settled for the side of fries.)

So I searched.  I searched for a job anywhere I could find it.  But with the legal age of serving alcohol in Frederick, Maryland being 18, my options of growth outside of Bon-Ton were limited.  I applied to non-alcoholic restaurants like IHOP and Waffle House.  I contemplated going back to my first job, Quizno's.  I searched high and low.  Until one day I applied to Carrabba's Italian Grill to be a hostess.  On the day of my interview, my (future) boss admitted that there were no hostess positions available, and that I was still too young to serve.  In a moment of sheer panic, I shouted at him, "I'll bus!"  He looked at this young white girl for a moment, and returned, "You want to bus?"  Knowing that I was only 17 for one more month, I nodded vigorously.  "I'll bus."

I finagled my way into a job.  A job I didn't want to do, but knew it would lead to better prospects once I turned 18.  And it did.  It was the job I returned to every summer and winter break from college.  It was the job that made my study abroad travel in Rome possible.  It was the job that meant I didn't need a job during college semesters.  It was the job I got my heartbroken in (multiple times).  It was my favorite job.

And now, here I am, a college graduate for more than four years, and I am in the same place I once was as a lowly high school graduate.  I'll admit to a feeling of shame when a class from Loyola's law school came into my section last night, and I proclaimed I studied undergrad there (and here I am now!  Serving you pizza.)  I admit that nearly every time I learn of someone's job (Marketing!  Designing!  Microbiology!) I cringe realizing where I am now.  And I admit that life feels especially hard right now.

But I had a conversation with my dad the other day.  **Please keep in mind that the person writing this blog once had an epiphany on a bus ride down Lake Shore Drive that she no longer wanted to be an actress because the idea of having an uncertain future scared the shit out of her.**  As I cried to my father over my current status, my inability to spend Christmas with my family, and my murky future; he said something to me that resonated.  He told me that right now, I need to let life take me.  I need to stop trying to make things happen and just let them happen.

It felt like a ruse.  I need to be in charge of my life decisions, Goddamnit!  I am, as Destiny's Child so proudly declared, an Independent Woman!  I am the master of my own destiny!  I cannot just sit back and watch what happens.  I need to take control.

That, in and of itself, is not a bad way of thinking.  However, there are moments - times - in your life that you have no control over.  I quit my job knowing the consequences of my decision.  But knowing the consequences and living them are two very different experiences.  It's difficult to relinquish control over your life.  But sometimes, for the sake of growing up, you must.

I may have steamrolled myself into a job in the summer of 2005, but my decision to leave my dead-end "stand behind a register and fold clothes" job left my possibilities wide open.  The thing about life is, you never know where it's going to take you.  And riding out the journey is the part where you grow the most.  It won't always be easy.  But if that were the case, you'd never change.  And if there's one thing I've learned from improv, it's that the transformations are the most fun to watch.

Baby Step: Check

DAY FIVE: The Pauper Casts Her Stone

The hard part is over?  Can we ever say that when we have no idea what the future is going to hold?  What I can say is that my decision has been made.  I tendered my resignation at work, and if my heart rate over the past few days is any indication, at least one hard part is over.

So the game is officially in play.  My current job will soon be but a distant memory.  I took the risk, but now I must put in the hard work it will take to accomplish the goals I want.  I made a decision and set it in motion, and now I shall see if I am really cut out for this whole risk-taking avenue of life, or if I will come crawling back to my job like a feeble minion cast away from the Kingdom of Payday.

But for right now, I will allow myself to enjoy this feeling.  The feeling of taking my life into my own hands, however foolish it may seem.  The feeling that I am in control of my fate.  The feeling of knowing I will never allow myself to settle into a life of mundanity and unhappiness.

Kind of like this.  But (thankfully) with just a metaphorical "river of shit"

So what now?  In the immediate, I am going to dinner with a friend and indulging in Turkish cuisine and a bottle of wine to celebrate.  But tomorrow?  Well, tomorrow I have a thousand and one opportunities that I will try my damnedest to either cease or create.  But the wonderful thing is, for the first time in four years, I know that tomorrow marks a countdown instead of an endless march.

Decisions

DAY ONE: The Pauper Makes a Choice

Life is all about decisions.  It is rather common knowledge.  But for the first 25 years of my life, none of my decisions were difficult.  Therefore, this adage fell on deaf ears.  Ranging from the utterly useless "what do I want to do on a Saturday night" (hint: it probably involved eating Funions and driving around Frederick County) to the somewhat affecting "where should I go to college?"  Choosing the right college can be tricky, but the thing is, you are already on the path that was basically set out for you from birth.  Which college is really an afterthought.  It doesn't matter where you go.  You'll still at least have a diploma.

All this is to say that I never realized how important decision making was until a job interview in May, 2013.  Yes, approximately three months ago.  The question was posed, "What decisions have you had to make in your current job?"  After pausing for a moment to look deep down for an answer, a panicked voice inside just screamed back up, "You are screwed."  Because for 25 years, I managed to ease on down the proverbial road.  Hell, I never even like to pick the restaurant.

This is probably why I have spent the past four years as administrative support staff.  An underling.  A human punching bag.  Because for the first four years of my adult life, all I wanted to do was ignore the things that made me happy because the fear of rejection was so instilled in me growing up.  And there is no greater rejection on this earth than for creatives.  So why not simply sludge my way through life, earning a paycheck, and never getting my heart stomped all over by rejection?  Oh, because in lieu of rejection, I have opted for soul-sucking drudgery and zero intellectual stimulation.

If this is your chosen profession, please do not take this as a personal assault on your dreams.  Some people are perfectly content with a life in clerical work.  This is only to say that I am not one of those folks.  So I am now ready to ensure that my life does not become a metaphorical vacuum of passion and happiness.

So now I have made a decision.  I have decided that I want to pursue my creative endeavors: writing, performing, and generally utilizing the left portion of my brain before it shrivels to the size of a craisin.  But there is a massive Argionis & Associates, LLC leech sapping all of my creative energy.  I fear I shan't be able to do anything productive when I come home from work reaching for the whiskey over anything else.

And then it hit me.  I should just quit.  A solution so simple.  So obvious.  So... irresponsible!  WHAT AM I DOING?!  I CAN'T QUIT MY JOB!  AND IN THIS ECONOMY?!?!

Of course it is a terrifying prospect.  But no more terrifying than the idea of staying in my current career scenario for the rest of my days.  Timecards stamped and swathed in soul-suck day in and day out until I retire.  I can be like these guys, or I can be like this guy.

This blog will chronicle my newfound, perfectly chosen unemployment and (hopefully) eventual enlightenment.  Because I'm going to need something to break up all the resume submitting and cover letter writing that is hopefully more conducive than this.