A little over a year ago on one of my visits to DC I found myself walking down King Street in Old Town, Alexandria and decided that I wanted to move here.
There is something very alive and romantic about these uneven brick streets. And something very surreal about the fact that now... four seasons later, I'm sitting in a coffee shop watching Christmas shoppers and am actively apartment hunting in the area.
This is a promise: even if I fall on my face and utterly and totally fail on this adventure, I will never, ever regret leaving my soul crushing cubicle job and the security blanket of a complacent, boring life. I am strong and I am resilient and yes, I'm just writing this stuff down trying to convince myself to buck up and carry on.
I'll be honest—I'm scared. Every morning when I wake up there is a crushing weight on my chest that says "what's to become of you?" I have amazing family and friends who call and tell me they believe in me, that they just know I'm going to be successful and land on my feet... and I don't know what will happen if I have to admit defeat and say, after two months of ardent searching, that I still haven't found a job.
I wake up every day just before six and I do what I would do if I had an office to go to. I wear a dress and I rake the lint pills off a cardigan and I head out like a little soldier. I watch the world around me and I think to myself... why can't I just succeed today? Why can't I let my poor mother exhale and call her squealing "I got the job!" today?
I feel as though someone, somewhere is trying to temper my spirit and see if I really understand the concept of a breaking point. I wish there were some way to send that person a message. It would read: I get it. Life is hard. Life is not fair. We control our destiny and no one owes us any favors and I will carry on... now can someone please just give me a job now?
