Tomorrow will mark the very first time in my life where I’ll be taking a serious risk. Most of me is ecstatic. Part of me is terrified. It’s this one terrified part of me that I’m trying to kill.

Six months ago I made a promise to myself. After submitting a written proposal to my employer asking for a raise, I gave myself a personal deadline. At the end of six months, I will either:

1. Receive a raise, or
2. Quit my job and move out of state.

My proposal more or less argued that I had been working outside of my job description for two years, and was being grossly underpaid for the amount of work I was doing. Although my letter was acknowledged and my hard work commended, I quickly learned that my request for a raise was not going to be honored.

Well aware that my time left with this organization was limited, I began taking the steps necessary to “reboot” my life. It was time to start over.

The process of rebooting my life is practically complete. Over the last six months, I have:

• Sold, donated, or thrown away everything I cannot take with me.
• Established new living arrangements in Michigan with the help of my girlfriend Cassie.
• Put in my final two weeks at the last job I ever want to have.

My apartment has been emptied, my car is packed, and all that remains left to do is drive from New Jersey to Michigan. I have no clue whether or not this will work out or not — but I’m doing it tomorrow.

Now is the time to do it. I’m young, I’m not paying a mortgage, I have no children or anything else binding me in place.

I’m gonna go live a little.

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