In 18 hours, I will not have a job.
What a terrifying thought.
I was about to start writing about the last time I left a job without having something else lined up — 2008, left the Sagebrush, landed at Nevada Humanities a little more than a month later, and most of that time was spent in Las Vegas for Christmas break — and then I realized something. Even then, I had a little bit of a backup plan. I’d been working part-time at the Reno Gazette-Journal for three months at that point and figured I might be able to get more hours if necessary.
So basically, the last time that I didn’t have even an inkling of employment was when I was 17 and hadn’t left for college and was still living at home.
My current circumstances are obviously quite different. I’m an adult (hard to believe, still true). I live very, very, very far away from my parents and family. I’ve worked full-time in the journalism industry since I was 21. Outside of work, I’ve built myself a life in D.C., one rich with friends and experiences.
And after all that, I find myself asking a question that I haven’t really had time to ask in a while — now what?
I have no idea. Really.
But I’ll figure it out. And whatever it is, it’ll be OK.