I Refuse To Die In A Cubicle
Fuck that weak ass job.
Every day that I get up and go to work, a small part of me dies. Because I hate that shit (not work itself, just the type of job I have). Fuck Corporate America, man. Fuck that cubicle; fuck that desk; fuck that outdated Windows XP computer; fuck Microsoft Outlook; fuck Microsoft Excel; fuck everything about the forty hours per week I spend doing absolutely nothing that interests me. It’s not only a complete waste of my time, but also my life. Yet, even with me being hyper aware of this, I still return every day; week; month; and year, all the while telling myself “This is just temporary. I’ll quit soon.”
But what if it’s not? What if I don’t? What if I continue to make plans about getting out of the life and setting the corporate world on its ear only to look up and I’m 20 years older, 100 lbs heavier and 0 steps closer to accomplishing any of my real goals in life? Just thinking about it sends chills down my spine because it is my single greatest fear.
Every day I search for articles that’ll encourage me to quit my job and chase my dreams; because I’m so desperately trying to get there. I love reading the stories of people who finally grew the balls to seek more out of life than biweekly paychecks and health insurance. I watch the YouTube videos of people like Louis Cole (FunForLouis) and read the blogs of people like Liz Carlson (Young Adventuress), whose entire lives revolve around fun, adventure, and the thrill of a new day. I want that. I need that. As corny as it sounds, those blogs and videos really feed my soul because they make me feel like the type of life I want is valid and possible.
I was always that college student that said I’d never have a “real job” because I thought dream jobs grew on trees. I had no actual plan for bringing truth to those words; I just knew that I wanted no parts of the office life. I enjoyed making people laugh and I figured that by the time I graduated, I’d have grown my YouTube channel into a revenue stream that’d enable me to avoid the cubicle altogether. But boy oh boy, was I wrong. I had completely underestimated how much work really goes into growing a YouTube channel, or any online platform for that matter, and soon after crossing that stage I found myself in a suit with my résumé in one hand and my dick in the other.
Fast forward two-and-a-half years and not much has changed. Sure, I have a job now, but my dick remains very much in-hand while I search for my place in this dreaded real world. I still make YouTube videos, though very inconsistently, and I’m still looking for that career that allows me complete freedom. The only difference now is I’m starting to get up there in age.
I’m exactly 30 days away from my 26th birthday, and the older I get, the more aware of time I become. With an awareness of time comes an awareness of the fact that the deeper I get into a life I don’t want, the harder it becomes to exit. If I don’t make any moves soon, I won’t make any moves at all.
I have no kids, no significant other, and no real responsibilities in life outside of bills so really I have nothing holding me back, except myself. And with that knowledge, it’s time for me to get serious about what I want to do and who I want to be. Is it a comedian? Writer? YouTuber? Professional traveler? I don’t know, man. I really do not know. But I do know one thing’s for sure: I refuse to die in a cubicle.
Editor’s note: I originally wrote I Refuse To Die In A Cubicle on February 4, 2016 as a declaration that I was done with a professional lifestyle that didn’t suit my real life goals of traveling the world. I knew if I never said the words, that I would never follow through with the actions. So I wrote I Refuse to Die In A Cubicle (while in my cubicle), as a message to myself, that it was time to use my natural talents to create professional happiness, and more importantly, the lifestyle of location independence that I’d always wanted: a lifestyle that allowed me to go wherever, whenever, without needing to ask some old ass suit for permission. Because I could physically feel my life getting shorter from being so damn sad, depressed, and frustrated every time that 6am alarm went off. Now, I Refuse to Die In A Cubicle lives as an open letter to anyone who feels that strong ass Get Out energy from a place that no longer serves them. Time belongs to no one.
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