The Big Change (No, Not The One With The Hot-Flashes, The Other One)

So, I had a funny post ready to go today.
And then…well…some stuff happened. Some information went around that I wasn’t quite ready to share with the world, but hey, isn’t life just one giant game of Telephone, anyway?

I’ll extrapolate on this in a minute, but first, allow me to refer to this post. It was a seemingly benign and short-lived inspiration. But it was a pivotal post for me, and it marks the day when I decided to take my life by the proverbial horns and try my damndest to make it a happier one.

So today, despite my intention to delay the sharing of certain knowledge with HR until Friday, it would appear that I officially put in my three weeks’ notice.

In other words, I quit this bitch.

HOLY HELL

That’s right folks.
I quit my job.

Because, let’s face it: I wasn’t cut out for the corporate world.
I wasn’t cut out to while away my hours in a cubicle, making small talk with people I hate and attending pointless meetings and trying to be all “Rah, Rah, Go Team” when on the inside, all I wanted to do was stab someone.

And the business-casual dress code?
Fuh-GETTA-bout-it.
This girl was never meant to prance around in a pair of slacks and smart, sensible loafers.
End of story.

So I’m quitting my job to go freelance and try to make some sort of life for myself wherein I can work from home, make my own hours, and spend more time living and less time staring at the clock, which I have been doing since about the moment I graduate from college.

Of course, as with any big life-changing decision, there is potential for failure of epic proportions. And I’m not going to lie, this possibility scares the ever-loving crap out of me. And to make matters worse, not only am I gambling with MY life; now that I’m married, I’m gambling with OUR lives.
Shit.
Somebody hand me a diaper, because I am about to seriously poop my pants.

But what’s that saying about how it’s better to try and fail than live with a bunch of regret? Or is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? Or beer before liquor, never been sicker? Hang in there?

I dunno.
Something you read on those posters that show tranquil scenes of waterfalls or a kitten hanging to a branch, with words underneath that are supposed to make me want to go out and achieve shit.

All I know is that, as of December 18th, I’ll no longer be employed.
And this could be either the best or the worst decision of my life.

…well, except for that whole “first marriage” thing, but you know what I’m talking about…