Happy September.

I know others on this website have said this, so I'm not the first, but yeah, I quit my job to write for Steemit.

Actually, though, that's not entirely true. It's kind of true. I quit my job because something shifted inside of me. When the job was gone, Steemit, on the selfsame day, rose up into my focus immediately to fill the void like it was just waiting for me to finally get real. To do this stuff I've always been wanting to do. And always have been doing at the expense of sleep, money, time, etc. I was now beginning to get paid for it. What the!?!

The first half of August was bliss. After some initial discouragement, I found some good verbs in the mouth of one Sterlin Luxan, and was inspired to actually dig down inside of myself and make a more honest post. I finally made twenty bucks on the site. From there I thought, hell, I'll just do this full time. I began to make significant sums of cash for an honest day's worth of work writing, and felt that with my side job, as long as I hammered down, I would be able to cover my family's usual expenses by the time September rolled around.

Spending time with my son has been one of the biggest bonuses of leaving my 9-5.

Well. August 31st. Paying all my bills with SBDs? No such luck, my friend.

But I will tell you one thing. I never dreamed I could pull down 2Gs cold, hard cash through writing in less than a month, even if one half of it is still vested in Steem Power (I am happy about this). I was sick to my stomach, though. I have a wife and a child. Playing games at this point was not an option. Still....I had heard something that was very lovely and very clear.

It was a kind of feeling I have never had before, but which was also at once very perfectly familiar. As my kid is playing on the Octopus slide behind me, and I am staring out at the sea, it hits me: It's over. You will never teach kids again.

Weird. It's like my wish, but this time I am not even wishing for it. It comes to me. I just know that that chapter of my life is completed. That was the day after I quit my job.

Fast forward to the end of the month. I haven't made enough money like I had hoped....I pray to someone or something over my Matsuya beef bowl in the sketchy back alley district of the burlesque dancers: what should I do? I was really, really feeling low and full of doubts and self-accusations.

Immediately that silly voice came back again:

(Keep doing what you're doing)

I haven't been eating this month. Haven't been sleeping. Have had headaches. Upset stomach. Welcome to fear. Welcome to the real shit. You were so cocky! Are you lazy!? You didn't like your job but so what!? You've got a family!!! Son comes home from daycare. DAAAAADDDYYYYYY!!!!!!! Let's play!!!!!

Pull yourself together.
Don't show your frayed nerves.

My wife is equally worried.
She needs security. She wants to get into massage. Vocal training school. So many dreams. Here I am sitting around the house in my underwear when all I really want to do is hand her a big fat envelope full of money.

I've never been lazy. I will work my ass off when I care, and when I need to. Fuck sleep. Fuck food. Fuck everything but the goal.

I just can't seem to give a damn about most shit that everybody else says is important.

Well, a lot of shit, at least. Still. Mouths to feed, my friend. But that "voice," didn't it mean something? And despite the nerves, hasn't this been one of the happiest, most productive months of my life? Yes. Yes, and yes. Besides, the other job was no good. Bad, unsustainable situation. You know that, Graham.

My buddy Kevin shows up to the Local.

Back to now, August, 31st, 2016. Evening. I went to my friend Craig's bar tonight. At the depth of my despair, on the bus ride over, I received a mail from my other friend, Aidan. There might be some part time work at his school. Mail sounds promising.

After a couple beers at Craig's place it is settled I will work Saturdays mixing booze and playing guitar. I am starting to feel good again. It is starting to seem possible that I can build my own, full-time, part-time "Steem-lance" schedule. Fake priest weddings, English classes, serving beer and singing....and....

STEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMM!!!!!!!

And you know what?

I am going to document it every step of the way. This is the first episode. Hope to see you next time, from my first day on the job as a bartender.

Basically how I feel now that I have discovered Steemit.com

Peace, Love, and Anarchy,

~KafkA

P.S. Another thing I have never been good at is keeping a consistent diary. I'm too private, and can't be bothered, even for myself. Should "My Steemit Life" transform into an existentialist thought stream ramble resembling a blog-turned-extended-acid trip, please forgive me. Maybe I will commit to 5 episodes. That sounds like a good number to me. Deal?

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Graham Smith is a Voluntaryist activist residing in Niigata, Japan.