Monday, September 28, 2015

Comfort Zones: How comfortable are they, really?

Really? How comfortable are they? (No, people don't care how you pronounce the word "comfortable". Okay, some do.)

Anyway, from someone who spent five years in a job that was not really meant for long-staying or career-driven individuals, then I can be an authority on this topic. 

It wasn't even a stepping stone. It was an unending ladder. An unending ladder to NoWhereVille. 

Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed every single photoshooting minute of that men's magazine adventure I had. Life was so simple then. Pretend to work by punching insignificant keys on your desktop computer (yes, we didn't have laptops then) while planning what to wear at the next party (finally, my net shirt!) and which friends of yours are worthy of inviting. Go on sales calls around the metro to solicit money that will never go to your own bank account. Drive half-asleep and if lucky, half-naked to your lonely room at your parents house. 

Life was so peachy. Give a respectable amount to your parents so they won't hassle you with the question of when you're getting your own place. Treat the household help with some decency so they'll also treat you decently and not like some overstaying child that you really are (I should have made my bed more). Wait for a friend's text to find out where you're hanging out next. Then decide not to go at the last minute because you just spent your last money for parking at last night's event (nope, that wasn't reimbursable). Rot in your bedroom watching reruns of Friends while everyone was actually out with their REAL friends. 

And, the worst part of it all is that you always thought everything was okay. That this was how life was supposed to be. 

You've had the same office mates for the past five years. You knew where to park. You knew exactly that P130 worth of gas would bring you to and from the office. The guards in your building know you so if you didn't have coins, you could borrow a cigarette first then just pay later when you find coins by the passenger seat of your car (thank God for office mates who ride with you and drop some coins from their pockets).

You think to yourself: "This is the life!"

But it really isn't. 

And deep inside, you know it. And no one can save you but yourself. Yup, you'll get tired of getting drunk (yes, the time you went inside the ladies restroom was pretty embarrassing). You might not get tired of bikini fashion shows and those photoshoots but you WILL ask yourself if this is all worth it in the end. Is there something more in this world?

Of course, there is. A lot.

They're all just located outside your comfort zone. 

Everything you've been looking for is there. 

Real recognition. Real accomplishments. Real challenges. The real world. Real fulfillment. 

We searched life for meaning, foor comfort, then we have to abandon this comfortable life, you ask? Well, a comfortable life is very different from a comfort zone.

Suddenly, you'll realize that your current employment can only take care of the regular Monday night beers but not payment for your own apartment. Your salary can survive the annual barkada Boracay trip but not your girlfriend's dream wedding. All of a sudden, shit gets real. 

Nobody can tell you to step out of your comfort zone--especially me. I'm just merely describing how, one Saturday morning, you realize: What am I doing with my life? Why am I stuck here with all this mediocrity? Why the fuck is someone's name tattooed on my back?!

Try stepping out. Meet new friends. Lose some. Be adventurous. Take risks. Do something you've always wanted to do and what you think you're meant to do (no, "liking" photos on Instagram is not a career). No more living off of your parents anymore. 

Get a real job with real responsibilities. Find your passion. Make it happen (only some of you will get this). Why? Because this shit ain't for you.