When I started my first full-time job, I was paid peanuts with no benefits, but was given the promise of experience (because that’s the going rate for young girls hoping to work in magazines). I kept up some of my babysitting jobs from college to supplement my income, which is using the term loosely as it was never “in” for long. Despite obsessing over my checkbook register, my parents still had to bail me out of several situations–my lowest being the day I had 25 cents to my name, literally (but I never went under!!). The truth was, I wasn’t making enough to cover my living expenses and still have a life, and there’s only so much you can pare down the latter without sitting in your room and pretending your computer is your friend every night. Oh wait, I still did a lot of that… say hello to the birth of this blog in 2009.

Anyway, finally enough was enough, and although I loved my work, my job just wasn’t working for me anymore. I was intimidated by the prospect of the job-hunt because I’d heard how difficult it was, but I was hit with an insane series of fortuitous events that enabled me to find a job, relocate, and make a more livable wage in only one week’s time. I accepted on a leap of faith, moved on Leap Day 2012, and haven’t looked back.

I could get all cheesy about it all, but it’s 7 a.m, and I’m halfway through Gone Girl. But things are good. And I’m glad Atlanta is home.

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