So, there I was, staring at the ceiling for probably the third hour straight. The landlord’s text about the rent was burning a hole in my pocket, or more accurately, in the emptiness of my pocket. My last job – if you can call two weeks of half-hearted warehouse packing a job – ended a month ago. The motivation to find another was roughly equal to my bank balance: zero. My mom’s voice kept echoing in my head, “You’ve got hands and a head, why won’t you use them?” Honestly? I didn’t have a good answer. Just a deep, profound talent for doing nothing and a weird confidence that somehow, things would work out. That afternoon, out of sheer, desperate…
So, there I was, staring at the ceiling for probably the third hour straight. The landlord’s text about the rent was burning a hole in my pocket, or more accurately, in the emptiness of my pocket. My last job – if you can call two weeks of half-hearted warehouse packing a job – ended a month ago. The motivation to find another was roughly equal to my bank balance: zero. My mom’s voice kept echoing in my head, “You’ve got hands and a head, why won’t you use them?” Honestly? I didn’t have a good answer. Just a deep, profound talent for doing nothing and a weird confidence that somehow, things would work out. That afternoon, out of sheer, desperate…