If you come here often enough, then you probably also talk to me often enough, and that means you already know that I quit my job two days ago.
It was not a bad job, Zonk; my boss was sweet and the people were awesome and the work was sometimes fun. So if you ask me exactly why I quit, I’d have to sit you down and you’d have to buy yourself a few drinks and listen for a couple of hours while I told you why. And I’d probably still not explain it right and you’d probably still not see it. And I don’t know if I’d really even try to make you see it. Because who you are sometimes decides what it is that you understand.
And I don’t understand a ten hour job that brings me no happiness. Nor any money. And I don’t know if I did the wrong thing, giving up on a place that old with a name that big. And maybe I’ll live to regret this someday. But when you work ten hours a day almost everyday, and the best that you have to show for it is all the doodles in your book – you know that something’s just not right.
I see too many people around me who are thirty and stuck in jobs they don’t really like. And thirty is sometimes too late to do anything about anything… A wise man once told me to Fail Fast. Because there is only so much time you are given to figure out how the rest of your life is going to be. Don’t waste it in making up numbers that are but nails grinding into place in the lids of your mold.
And so, I quit a job that most people would be willing to grow old in. Within six months of taking it up. And I know that not everybody thinks I’m doing the right thing. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not.
But something’s gotta give.
For now, I’m happy. And I’m going to leave you with a bunch of little drawings I did at different points on the job during the last six months. The ones with thread taped to the top were originally tied to helium balloons and stuck on my wall. But the balloons died and I ended up just hanging them from thumb tacks on my board. Oh well.
They all fit in a single scan.