The Day You Start Looking for a Job, You Start Getting Old

The day you find yourself scrolling through LinkedIn job postings with a stale cup of coffee in your hand, that’s the day you officially start aging.

Not physically—because your knees probably started making noises long before that—but spiritually. Something about reading buzzwords like “team player” and “dynamic self-starter” takes a little piece of your soul and flushes it down the corporate toilet.

It’s funny because you don’t even want half these jobs. You just need one. And even though you’re overqualified, underpaid, and sick of pretending that “excellent communication skills” means knowing how to write an email without typing “per my last email” in rage, you still apply.

Why? Because society told you to. And now, here you are, slapping together a résumé with bullet points about how you “streamlined operations” at some place you hated.

But let me tell you something, the minute you stop searching for their approval, that’s when you start living.

Alive and Well | Why Complaints Don’t Stick

Now, don’t get me wrong—I gave up on the corporate world, I still complain though. Oh! I complain a lot. My wife will tell you I can spend hours ranting about why Wi-Fi routers never work when you actually need them, or how "The Moroccan Administration" always seem to give you a hard time processing a document you desperately need to simply apply for a passport. But you know what? The complaining fades.

And when it fades, I’m reminded why I value the stillness of just being. Sitting in silence, meditating, letting the noise fade to the background like that hum in your car engine you pretend doesn’t exist. You ever just sit there and breathe? No distractions. No Instagram. No “breaking news” about the same mess that’s been breaking since the dawn of time. Just you and your thoughts, like two old friends catching up.

The problem is, most of us forget how to do that. We let distractions become reality. Notifications, deadlines, opinions, nonsense. It all becomes noise we mistake for music. But if you take a step back—just one little step—you can see it for what it is, nonsense.

And in that moment, you realize that life isn’t about fixing every problem. Sometimes, it’s about sitting with them, laughing at them, and moving on.

Don’t Ever Let a Slave Read the Bible

Now, before you start clutching your pearls, let me explain.

Who’s the slave here? I’m not just talking about chains and plantations. I’m talking about current-day slavery. Jobs, debt, social pressure, whatever it is that keeps you from living freely. That’s your master.

Prison doesn’t always come with bars, my friend. Sometimes it looks like a cubicle. Sometimes it looks like a mortgage. Hell, sometimes it looks like a relationship you stayed in because you were too scared to leave. And here’s the issue, the book you don’t read can’t help you.

What book, you ask? Any book. The Bible, The Art of War, The Subtle Art or friendship—whatever speaks to you. Because knowledge is freedom. And when you don’t read, you’re handing someone else the keys to your cage.

Why Do You Need Help?

Here’s the thing, you don’t. At least, not in the way you think.

People run around screaming, “I need help!” when what they really need is perspective. You ever notice how the most dramatic people always seem to create their own problems? It’s like they’re the directors, writers, and lead actors in a soap opera nobody asked to watch.

But help isn’t about someone swooping in to save you. It’s about realizing you’ve always had the power to save yourself. The catch? You have to choose to do it.

And that’s the hard part, isn’t it? Choosing. Choosing to leave the job that’s killing you. Choosing to say no to the friends who only call when they need something. Choosing to sit in silence instead of scrolling through TikTok for the 47th time today.

Help isn’t a handout. It’s a mindset.

How Far Can You Swim?

Here’s a little analogy for you, life is an ocean, and we’re all just trying to swim. Some people get boats, some get floaties, and some get tossed in with nothing but their birthday suit and a prayer. How far you swim depends on how much you’ve been given—and how willing you are to paddle when the water gets rough.

But there’s the thing, freedom isn’t free.

You ever notice how the richest people in the world don’t seem happy? They’ve got yachts, private jets, gold toilets, and still, they’re miserable. That’s because they’re swimming toward something that doesn’t exist, a fucking happy ending.

True freedom isn’t about reaching some magical destination. It’s about being able to afford the choice to stop swimming whenever you damn well please.

And until you figure that out, you’ll be stuck chasing waves that never break.

Rich People and Their Weird Habits

Speaking of waves, let’s talk about rich people for a second.

Have you ever noticed how they all have the same hobbies? Running businesses, investing in stocks, and bodybuilding like they’re auditioning for The Avengers. Don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing wrong with staying fit. But they treat it like it’s a personality trait.

They’ll be like, “Yeah, I own three companies, two rental properties, and I can bench 300 pounds.” And I’m like, “Cool. Can you sit in a room by yourself without spiraling into an existential crisis?”

Because that’s the real flex.

I Don’t Understand Money (And Neither Do You)

Here’s where people get mad.

I don’t understand money. Not in the way you think. Sure, I know how to earn it, spend it, save it & invest it—but I don’t get it.

Because money isn’t real. It’s a tool, a game, a means to an end. And the minute you start defining yourself by how much of it you have, you lose.

You ever notice how broke people will ask you what you do for a living like it’s a trick question? “So, uh… what do you do?” They don’t care about the answer. They’re just trying to figure out if you’re playing the same miserable game they are.

And you know what? I almost feel bad for them.

Why I Almost Feel Their Pain

Let me paint a picture for you, I’m sitting in a bar, sipping something smooth, and a guy asks me what I do for a living. I tell him, “I live.” He blinks, confused. “But… how do you make money?”

And here’s where I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

Because his question isn’t about me. It’s about him. He’s looking for validation, for a sign that we’re both stuck in the same system. And when I don’t give it to him, he doesn’t know what to do.

But me, I don’t care what you do for a living. I care about how you’re living.

Are you happy? Are you free? Are you doing what you love? Because if the answer is no, then what are you even working for?

The Joke’s on All of Us

At the end of the day, life is one big joke. Some people get the punchline, and some are asleep. But if you spend your whole life searching for a setup that makes sense, you’ll miss the point entirely.

So stop looking for jobs, titles, approval, whatever it is you think you need. Start living. Start choosing not settling. Start laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Because if you can’t find joy in the chaos, then what’s the point?

And remember, the book you don’t read can’t help you.

The wave you don’t paddle through won’t carry you. And the life you don’t live? That’s the biggest prison of all.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some meditating to do. Or maybe some complaining.

Either way, I’m alive, I’m free, and I don’t need a joke to prove it.

(*)other than the lady with the full split in her back up there on the pic 🤤 I'm like do I need to wash my hands or grab chopsticks of something!?