Last November, I started a really grown-up job at a magazine in Nigeria. Sure, it went against my original plan (graduate from college, work in NY as an editorial assistant making my way up to editor, write my first book and spend the rest of my days freelancing for ridiculous amounts of money) but seeing as I never worked my way up to editor before moving straight to freelance writing, I figured I could go back a few steps. Besides the lure of a 9-5 job with a steady paycheck was too appealing.
So with my grown-up job, came the need for a grown-up apartment and all the responsibilities that go along with it. I would be lying if I said I didn't love my fancy job and my fancy apartment and an excuse to wear heels every day. I do well with structure, I kinda need it to be productive. And I liked not having to explain what I do for once. I am constantly battling my sensitivity to the fact that some people don't take what I do seriously. Working from home comes with a constant side-eye from people who don't understand how you get paid to be in your pajamas in the afternoon. So having a "real" job was nice.
Flash-forward a year and I'm back in the states for the time being. I let go of my job and my apartment is vacant. My current billing address has a Connecticut zip code so I guess that's my current home except it isn't permanent. My sister is already itching for her alone time so I can't imagine she'll want me around very long. When she's ready, I'll give her and my nephew the space to live their lives.
When that happens, I don't know what the next step is but I think I'm done with the office life this time.
One of the things I've enjoyed about the last two years is the amount of traveling I've done. Why stop now? The perks of being single, childless and homeless is being unattached. I've said it before and I'll say it again, when it comes to your life being a selfish asshole is okay.