Three weeks ago, I gave one month's notice at my job, without having another job lined up.
After all, it took me less than three weeks to find this job after having been laid off by the one that relocated me to LA.
Wouldn't a month be long enough?
Didn't I need to stop working at this job in order to actually find some other job elsewhere? Unlike in the past, at this job, I couldn't really sneak around, surreptitiously dressing up for interviews, taking long lunches for meetings, and sending my resume out instead of replying to emails. I had to come clean, and do it out in the open. I had to make finding a new job my new full-time job.
But now I have a week left before my imminent departure.
And I cannot answer the question, "Where are you headed?" because I don't know.
I suspect I'll freelance for a bit amidst looming unemployment. I'll recapture some of the spirit of my visits to LA in the two years before moving here, when I would pay clients a visit and drive around the city all day jumping from meeting to meeting, lunches and coffees, breakfasts and confabs and pow-wows. I'll go hiking. I'll visit some of the places that are only open during the day, during the week, yet not on holidays.
I truly believe I'm meant to be in Los Angeles right now, just doing...something...else. But when I say I'd like to find out what LA has to offer me, I have to field the resulting scoffs from the jaded Angelenos who have lost their optimism, who stay in their jobs just to receive a steady paycheck.
As for me, I'm not afraid of starving to death.
But once again, I am facing the great unknown, alone out in the world. My parents aren't supporting me. I've no sugar daddies or husbands or benefactors of which to speak.
I can only do what feels right.
I might regret it.
But I most certainly would regret staying on my current path.
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