Apparently I Need To Grow The Fuck Up

So last week I went for a job interview for a position at a nightclub that’s going to be opening here soon.

It went pretty well I must say. The interviewers seemed to like me and they even ended it with, “We’ll probably hire you.”

That’s dope of course! I am stoked and excited as I wait for the confirmation.

I started texting my friend about it, someone who was actually my manager back when I was working part-time at another club.

He was encouraging and supportive somewhat, but somehow, the conversation veered towards well, typical bullshit I hear about many times over.

“It’s time for you to grow up.”

“It’s time for you to focus on your career.”

“It’s time for you to stop dancing.”

The last one is bizarre, but that’s how it is. Apparently being a Bboy and having a passion for something affects others.

But you know what stung the most?

He started referring to a couple of other colleagues we had. They’ve moved on with their lives and, according to him, are doing well.

How are they doing well?

Well, one of them now owns a condo.

Another one has opened three outlets of his new restaurant.

Another is now a director (of what, I don’t even know.)

It really hit me how most people in society only look at certain, material things and completely don’t give a fuck about deeper things, things that matter on an emotional level.

And most people are quick to judge me all the time because they don’t understand what I do.

I mean, I blog. I write on the internet. I make an income online through various ways, from selling my own books, affiliate marketing to earning Bitcoin. When I try to explain this shit to people, it usually goes over their heads. Writer/blogger doesn’t sound too glamorous compared to CEO.

And you know what? I never saw a need to show off. I’ve made good money before, and not once did I see a need to talk about it. I was simply too busy working hard on what I love.

The side effects are hence, being judged and disrespected.

Alas, that’s the sad reality today.

Nobody really cares whether you love something, how you create art or the great things you’ve done in life…

… unless it makes a shit ton of money, or something, just something that can be easily shown off.

Nobody cares how I’ve gotten emails from readers telling me I saved their lives.

Nobody cares how Bboying has had such an impact on me that it saved my life.

Nobody was there with me when my dad died, at least not the naysayers.

I for one believe that you matter.

Your love for something.

Your love for someone.

Your little good deeds.


If it’s important to you, hold on to it and never let it go.

By all means, do what you have to do to survive, but try not to get caught in the rat race, wherein your sense self-esteem is derived from things alone.

Because at the end of the day, you’ve only got what you love.

And you can take that with you when you die. The other things? They’re not coming with you.

I hope you’re loving something today.

Get my book here to support me and be loved, 100 Days Of No-Bullshit Happiness.

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