You get to a certain stage in your life where you realize that you have to put on your big girl panties—which have a lot less fabric than the panties of your grade school years—and get your life together. You have to understand what a W2, 1099, 401K, or an 867-5309 is and handle them accordingly. You need to find a way to keep a roof over your head at all times. And somehow, you need to file for divorce from that nagging-ass side chick Sallie Mae.
I realized all of this years ago. When I was 18 years of age with the goal of being married by age 25, attached to dreams of living in an impeccably decorated loft, spooning next to my Idris Elba lookalike of a husband and pregnant with fraternal twins. However, I’m now less than three months away from 27 and my biggest concern is moving into an apartment with kitchen privileges (Manhattan be trippin’!) and finally being able to buy a new laptop.
And I cannot see past this very moment.
In a way this is good. It’s good because we should strive to always live in the present, but shouldn’t I have a clearer idea of where I want to be in the future? Don’t I need to have real life goals? A thriving business? A successful career? Where are all the extra commas in my bank account?!
It’s funny, but it’s not. It’s kinda scary. I know that I want to find a career that feeds my passions, purpose, and my stomach, but of those three things, the only thing I’m certain of is what I’d like to eat.
I have no idea what I want to do.