Well there it is. I sluggishly woke up from my evening nap to a phone call from my manager telling me “You’re fired”. This is my first time being fired; it was also my first job. It was a good place I won’t lie: a band rehearsal space where I would help musicians set up, listen to music, and wander the Internet for 12$/hour. An easy job, and I got fired. Ouch. My position feels more uncomfortable now. I have been uncommitted in school, for my program is not where I belong, and I have been sluggish at home and at work, only alive at night with friends and meddlesome responsibilities forgotten. But I have been pushing it a bit too far, avoiding sleep and not eating enough to sustain my hectic nights crammed between a full yesterday of school and an early tomorrow of work. I was fired for being late too many times, crucial because I was opening every time and thusly caused harm to the business. I hold no grudge in this judgment, and I told my sympathetic manager to go with peace and no hard feelings. It is a slap to the face, but it feels quite real, and it feels good.

So-called “Helicopter” style parents, who seem to be phenomena of our generation, raised me my whole life. They sheltered me from life and deprived me of learning experiences that were important to self-development. I tried to cut my teeth and gain financial responsibility with this job, but I could not achieve even that. As ridiculous as it sounds, I could not even get my parents to stop putting money in my account, or have my grandmother contribute even more into the already generous study fund she provided me. I told my parents that I did not want them to pay me back for the textbooks I had to buy, or for my bus pass, etc…; that these were my responsibility and I wanted to handle it and try my hand at balancing my own small budget. But still, my parents would sneak amounts into my account to cover any significant expense despite my protests in what has to be the most ludicrous first world problem of all time.

The result was a feeling of lethargy and a lack of enthusiasm for my job, and a sense that it was not important because I had a cushion to fall back on. This familiar feeling has permeated almost all aspects of my life to some degree. When challenge is removed there is no thrill in life, and no lessons are learned, there is only existence. I can admit I have had a lack of drive in many aspects of my life except what passions me the most, which has been subject to change and impermanence over the years.

I have recently come to the conclusion that I want to write. About what, in what style and with what goal in mind I do not yet know. I used to want to be a writer when I was a child, and I strayed from that path many years ago. I now find myself with the same sense of knowing that fueled my childhood dreams, a sense that I lost as I grew older and my heart hardened. In all those years I have only gone down the path of writing as far as my teachers and my school essays have taken me, which is not a bad thing, for I learned how to print thoughts concisely in this time. I may not have much distance to show for the time elapsed, but what I do now have is the knowledge that the neighboring paths on the route to happiness and fulfillment are arduous, uninviting, and do not contain the light of my heart.

I am standing now again at the start of the path where I stood many inches and years ago, with the fresh sting of termination and failure in my heart, but with a calming sense of purpose and reassurance that this is the right way. I had been thinking about maybe starting a blog sometime in the future to help me develop my writing, and to explore and spread ideas, if I could find the time. The result was predictable; always it will be begun tomorrow. I never had the intent of spending my life working in an office, or 9 to 5 type of job where I commit my internal resources to making another’s dream come true. I want in essence to be able to make a living from writing about what life teaches me, and about what I love allowing me freedom to explore various topics. This freedom would come in due time. I knew I wasn’t doing the best job at work, but I certainly did not expect to get fired at night when I was not working via phone call. Uh Oh. This doesn’t fit into the plan. I thought by the time I would part from this job I would have at least some prospects for writing for money, revenue from writing for Substruct News perhaps, or for a local paper. I was daydreaming of success before even applying myself. Surely future moi would have no trouble finding a newspaper that would want to hire a young promising bright mind! Ego is a dangerous thing.

I have been woken up from this reverie with a sudden start, but it does not need to be a negative occurrence. Like getting icy water splashed on your numb drunken face, this sobering turn of events reinvigorates my spirit and gives me a new burst of energy. I am determined not to let my firing knock me off balance. I needed this shove, and I am going to hit the ground running, using it as inspiration to take the first steps of the journey that has awaited me my whole life.

So, my friends, welcome to my new blog.