Howdy, everyone. Life is awesome. I’ll never have a better job. I get paid to write now. I’m still waiting for someone to call bullshit — “Wait, you’re telling me we pay this guy to sit on his ass and write whatever the hell he wants.”
So I’ve been lacking here, I know. And now, get this. I’ve been invited to write over at Medium. I still plan to do most of my personal writing over here, but I figured I might as well check out what all this fuss is about over Medium. Seems like a pretty cool site!
Here’s the intro to what I posted over there. It’s basically a recap of everything that’s been going on over here this year. Skip on over to check it out if you’re interested. Or don’t. It’s your life, and you shouldn’t do what everyone on the Internet tells you to do.
I’m 28 years old and feeling pretty damn chipper.
So far this year I’ve given up a lot: financial security when I quit my job, my bachelor pad when the whole family moved in together, meat and cheese when I went vegan, my new Prius — soon — when someone buys it on Craigslist.
And it’s all because I wanted to write.
The greatest piece of advice my dad ever gave me was this: if you’re driving and you’re mad, clean your windshield and you’ll feel better. He also told me I should keep writing. You know that age — a few years out of college when the world starts to beat you down and slowly chip away at your dreams like Harry Potter-style dementors sucking out your soul, taking all of your childhood hopes and deflating them until your empty inside. It was silly anyway. No one will actually pay you to write. Poets starve. Dig a ditch and be practical.
I decided that was all bullshit. I remember when I was eight years old, trying to write a story about a dinosaur and crumpling up pages in disgust, then throwing them in the corner. I remember when I was in high school and got my first paid publishing credit, then deciding to major in something practical like Engineering. I remember in college when quit my job for the first time so I could focus on the student newspaper, then graduating and passing up a job as a reporter for something “more practical.”