Winter, 2016
So this was it then.
Uninterrupted, focused, and settled, this was the new beginning to start a career.
And by this point, I was truly unemployed.
I had to make these next moves fucking work. Scarr’s bought me some time, but now, I had no time to lose. Matter of fact, my shifts thinned out, and I put two and two together.
Before I had even started at Scarr’s, I mentioned how I’d be a short-term solution. A “someone” buying them time. I’d hold it down in front of the house for maybe the summer, but definitely wouldn’t be around for long.
Sure enough, summer rolled into fall, and I started to receive more frequent messages to take the day off hours before my shift. Hell, it got to the point where I’d be surprised if I didn’t receive a text when my shift was coming around.
But I understood — nothing personal; strictly business. They found someone permanent to replace me. Very well; my time with Scarr’s was over. That’s that. Now it’s time for me to really bust my ass.
So I was at it again. But this time, it was different. I wasn’t just blindly putting in applications. Rather, I was more interested in speaking with people. If I learned anything over the summer, it was my strength — my ability to make things happen. And it came about from talking to people. I made all sorts of friends, sure, but I knew I was onto something when the realization struck me that I had actually found my new home from strictly making relationships with regulars.
If I can find a place to live by reaching out, why the fuck can’t I find a job doing the same?
But there were bigger questions I had to answer, right? Like, where the fuck do I start, for one? What field did I want to be in, exactly? What did I want to do? Great questions. Recurring questions that existed since I was teaching, even.
So in other words, no fucking clue. I mean, how could I possible know? What did I know of the world up to this point? I poured my soul into the classroom, then served pizzas at a dope joint. But what did I learn? How did my experiences expose me to the world?
Other than helping me grow comfortably in my own skin and chat with all types of folks, they didn’t. Great. I know that I know nothing okay sick thanks. So what’s next?
Well, I know what I’ve been doing. I’ve been talking to people, asking questions all the while putting in my due diligence with applications and research and the like. I know I want to change my profession— and I know I can do this.
If this sounds grossly vague, you’re not alone. And you can already imagine how this went down.
Days would go by as I persevered with my best Tank Engine impression of ‘I think I can’ on repeat. All the while, I’d be holing up in coffeeshops, sending out formalities, pinching pennies, scoping for gigs, and meeting new people. Modern-day job hunting, man.
But no dice; so with whatever time I had in between, or whenever I’d feel my sanity slowly crumbling underneath me, I’d resort to the things that I’d always be coming back to. That story I’d been working on. Drawing. Mixing.
And with shorter days and colder weather, it almost felt like that was all I had.
Initially, after spending all afternoon applying for jobs, I’d hole back into my room accompanied with the 40 I’d pick up from next door, and literally just shitpost — verbal diarrhea destined to be lost in the great void that is the internet.
I had no interest in repeating my failures in public, and I certainly didn’t have the money to do so at some pub, so I’d kind-of fulfill my desire for social interaction by literally just spewing shit on e-forums, comfortably basking in anonymity. God bless the Internet, I suppose.
Not anti-semitic alt-right bullshit tho, let’s be clear. The state of this country where I have to even say that. But I digress.
Just shitposting some disposable banter where I could moan about how shit it is to “solve unemployment.” Or about how shit my day was because I had still been battling existential dread. Or how Florida was a shit state. Just innocuous things like that.
But you can catch a trend here, right? So much negativity. Shit this, shit that. Not to mention that, in the end, all this time I’d invest in just posting nonsense was, quite literally, a waste. What did this release provide for me? Other than a night of mental reprieve, if that? Nothing. No value. No growth.
So I leaned a little more on writing. Or drawing. Or spinning. At least if you continue to work on these skills, who knows, maybe you’ll be able to actually flip em for what they’re worth.
But days rolled by, and my desire to just create sometimes took priority. Like there were days when I’d strictly focus on drawing all day instead of job hunting. ‘Look,’ I’d tell myself. ‘You’re not making the progress you want, but you’re hitting all the right notes. You’ve reached out to alumni. You’ve done the whole career service thing. You’re still in contact with other professionals. You sent out a number of apps and e-mails yesterday.’ And despite my antsy self hysterically repeating ‘it’s not enough it’s not enough its notenough itsnot dneign neoabtdajkf’ I’d say:
‘Look. Relax. You need to wait. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that. Be patient. It’s part of the game. Good things come to those who wait.’
So I’d wait. And while I did, I’d provide a little TLC to my sanity. Y’know — all the little things. Like this coffee-shop just a couple blocks away from my new (& old?) place would be my go-to, more often than not, simply because I liked how it had these massive window panels and desk-like seating where I could post up, mind my business, step out for a smoke if I wanted, and no one would bother me whether I was job-hunting, drawing, or writing. My shit’d be sprawled in my space, and no one would bat an eye. Good.
Top it off with getting sunlight through those fat windows?? Delicious.
So some days, I’d draw. Just draw. Spend hours drawing. And I’d lose myself in the process — which was glorious. People fiend for substances looking for a same escape, but I could get it off a paper and pencil? For free???
It is exhausting trying to postulate what job would be best for you in whatever field when you have zero related experience and all you’re working with is a job title and company description. On top of the classic: “Entry level job … Requirement: 4 years of experience”
So instead, I’d be focused on what I do know; my favorite character from some favorite anime. Or my favorite human(s) from my time at Hamilton. And I’d see them come out of my sketched lines. And that was progress. And that made me happy.
Was this a skill? Yes. Was this something I could develop and make work out of? Yes. And most importantly — did I enjoy it? Yes.
I’d be riding that high while walking back home and then change gears. I’d start thinking about writing. Outlining my story’s universe, or fleshing out characters.
This is how I kept my sanity; sure, I’d be hitting dead ends when job hunting, but when it came to writing or drawing or spinning, I could see progress. I could hear progress. I could feel progress. And in a sense, I was still growing — still moving. I wouldn’t let my circumstances stagnate me. I worked on what I enjoyed. And I wouldn’t let go of it.
I think that’s why I was so damn proud with that third mix I made.
That mix, man…
That mix was a reflection of where my mental was at. Remember those couple of lines I’d repeat to myself? Rome wasn’t built in a day? Be patient? I’d have my headphones on all the while, because the tunes would deliver a peace I was aching for. An absolute necessity when job hunting — like jinsang’s solitude album? Shiiiit. And what a name to boot.
To pour my soul into this mix. I liked that. I dunno, there was something sweet in being able to capture the mood I’d be feeling that got me through life. Out of that came this sweet synthesis of fun and work. Coz it was work, right? I’d be queueing songs in order, working on transitions, beat-matching, playing back drafts after drafts to see what I could do better — the whole nine yards. It wasn’t fun, let’s be honest. It was work. It was practice. But I’d feel progress. I could hear the difference. I’d feel more comfortable and confident eq-ing tunes into one another, and sure enough, something would come out of it.
The same way a portrait evokes sentiment, the same way a movie evokes a mood, I wanted my mix to evoke an emotion; tranquility I longed for. Thirty-odd minutes long, but really a snapshot of my mental, documenting my inner and outer struggle, except through music.
I liked that. A lot.
Then came this wonderful harmony. An intersection between desire and opportunity. When you’re job hunting, there were always a couple of professionals that invariably keep in touch, right? There was one that I, to this day, am eternally grateful to for always having time to hear me out as I verbalized my journey through professional life. And our professional relationship sorta metamorphosized into something a little more personal. Where I could really just let her know about how things were going. Where my head was at. How life has been with the new family. Little things, y’know? But I dunno. Turns out it’s possible for some professional relationships to become valuable to your spiritual health.
It took me a while to get over that insecurity of feeling like a leech — but like I said: great people don’t evaluate you based on the situation you’re in, but how your responding to your situation. Lord knows this is how I felt with her. And what a bedrock to foster a relationship on.
Anyway, there came this moment. We had been chatting as we always did — making sure I had all my bases covered — when, mid-conversation, something had just clicked. A weird binary just dissolved: I found the courage to mention what I had dissociated from my professional possibilities nearly my entire life.
Because it’s not possible right? To write, draw, DJ? yea that’s cool dude, but how you gonna make a living?
Well, I don’t fucking know, but I’m hardly making one right now, am I? And I certainly wouldn’t have called my time with the charter school as one where I was ‘living.’
“I want to tell stories.”
I mentioned that to her. It was the first time in any professional setting where I had dropped this admittance. This fantasy of mine that I’ve been so obsessed with ever since I was in elementary school, when I watched cartoons and tried transcribing them on paper during whatever free time I had.
“Stories?”
“Well — maybe not like ‘stories,’” this was 24 years of pent-up insecurities creeping out of my lips. “But, like, narratives. A ‘why’. Like, let’s say, how a company or a product got to where it is now, y’know?”
That bit was sincere. The crux in my desire, or at least my dedication, to break into the marketing realm. My angle in rationalizing a way to make a living pursuing what I want. It was only until just now where I’d spoken of it.
But this admission had me flustered — did I really just say that? Do I sound like a freaking idealist now, living in a fantasy world? But also — why has it taken me this long to bring this up?
Who knows, maybe it’s because I had heard ‘forget it’ my entire life, when I mentioned a life as a creative. Or maybe it’s because I had never bothered to look at myself in that light. Or maybe it’s because I feared failure.
But at this point, I had failed so many times, I had nothing to lose. I‘ve done everything. I’ve tried everything. Why not talk about things that I genuinely enjoy at this point?
Fantasy or not, once you run out of leads, surely it’s not such a bad idea to express the passions that get you through the day?
My favorite quote I’ve heard in recent times comes from Denzel Washington: “You hang around the barbershop long enough, sooner or later you’re gonna get a haircut.”
I get that. Coz that’s exactly what happened with me.
You keep working, and something will give. You stay positive, and you’ll find an angle. You persevere, and people will notice.
Still here. Still trying.
The comment that I dropped, where I frankly told my mentor that I enjoyed telling stories, was enough to put one and one together; there was a personal connection who worked as a cinematographer for a production company whose slogan literally was “Tell Your Story.”
Yes, I would love to meet this guy.
I did. And we actually spent the next couple hours just chatting about life and how he got to where he is now. And I wish I could provide more details than that, but honestly, all I could remember was where we spoke at some indoor plaza in some building in the financial district, my ass sweating buckets making sure I wasn’t saying anything stupid or wrong to be relegated to this dude’s bad graces.
But that never happened. At first, yeah, it was business — where’d I graduate from? What had I been up to? This and that. Yourself?
But then it was more chitchat — yet no less important than the conversation prior. How he started working as a cinematographer. How he got involved with the company he’s freelancing for right now. How that company actually just started in a basement somewhere, and how they’d grown into an office in Midtown.
The conversation probably went on for hours — and it got to the point of consideration; hey — how about you come by one day and see what we’re up to?
Absolutely, man. You give me a time and place. I’m there.
A lead.
