This Post Grad Life: Time is a Four Letter Word

By Brittany

How old would you guess I’d be if I had a mini-celebration in my classy little lady heart because breakfast sandwiches were served on my flight into JFK and Justin Bieber’s “Love Me” came up randomly on my iTunes? 11? 15? 18?

I have the mentality of an 11-year-old. But I digress. A week ago–I quit my dream job at an advertising agency and now I’m a flight attendant. I have the mentality of a 55-year-old lady hitting a mid-life crisis without the Porsche.

In reality, I’m 24-years-old, have a well-rounded college education and I’m fully capable of making my own decisions. In which case, I have chosen to behave like it’s 1960 and all I want to do is travel the world wearing nylons and a scarf around my neck…do something crazy and stroll through security at an airport with a flash of a badge to see the world and obtain some adventurous writing material for my Moleskine notebook.

I want to say those pangs of hunger for “writing material” make me a real writer. Or just a neurotic 20-something who refused to see my life continue into a ripe 25 staring at a computer and contemplating drinking a whole bottle of Aquafina in 15 minutes just so I have an excuse to keep going to the bathroom and occupy myself with staring at the stone bathroom walls.

So, as a fine balance of being crazy and comfortable adventurous, I’ve decided I’m just…doing. Doing something that everyone (deep down) wants to do themselves…close their eyes and envision something that fits them perfectly (even if it’s not for the time being) and going after it. Going to extremes with impossible schemes, life gets more exciting. Ask Frank Sinatra himself. Not long ago, I wanted to believe being young was meant to package all of that valuable time and invest myself into my professional reputation–for a precise and secured future of success. But recently, I started believing that life can’t guarantee anything, so why rely so heavily on a plan?

Maybe it’s not the type of person I am…if I feel like “life” isn’t happening for me, I need to make it happen. Even if it’s 30,000 feet into the clouds and across the country. But that never sounded bad to me anyway.

Life is too short to be unhappy. I hear that everywhere (especially on those witty little magnets in gift shops). But do we really want to hear it? Do we really act on it? Life is too short to be unhappy but is it too short to be unreasonable? I thought about that for a long time before quitting my “dream job.” Brittany, is this responsible? Isn’t this a prime future investment you should keep around? Before answering the two questions, I asked myself:

Logical question: ”Are you making money and keeping up with rent and bills?”

Logical Answer: Yes.

Uncomfortable question: ”Where do you want to be in 5 years? Is this job taking you there?”

Uncomfortable answer: No.

I answered a comfortable “yes” to logic–and a shifty “no” to the question that didn’t guarantee a promising financial future. I had to chose which one was most important to me. Do I want to waste money, or time? Losing money wasn’t logical, but it wasn’t worth wasting my time. Things (like this dilemma) don’t always fall into place like they have for me. But I was willing to take that fleeting chance. Life is to short to be unhappy. It’s too short to lie to yourself. It’s too short to apologize to anyone for making that choice–especially yourself.

Don’t let yourself marinate in something that isn’t spicing up your life to its full potential. Find what makes you as high as 30,000 feet everyday. Even if it’s a flight attendant job.