Pursuit of Happiness

By Jamari Jordan

“Everything isn’t for everybody.”

That colloquialism has guided me through my 23 years of life. In middle school, when every kid wore long tees and clear Air Force Ones(dark times in fashion), I passed. In high school, when every kid had skin-tight skinny jeans in the same assortment of colors that you would find in a pack of Skittles(the darkest times), I definitely passed.

Even in college, when every night seemed like a party somewhere, I passed. What works for some may not work for all. Now as adult, that still rings true.

You can’t compare yourself to your friends. Sure, a little competition could be a good source of motivation. But, comparison is the thief of joy.

You’re different people, in different places in your life, wanting different things.

If you consistently try to use your friends as a benchmark, you’ll never measure up.

We’ve all heard the warnings about being adult. You have to find a career. You have to find somewhere to live. You have to pay bills. Then, you have to pay bills again. Just when you think you’re all caught up, there are more bills.

Then, there’s your credit score. I look at my credit score like I did my math SAT score. A lot of people scored higher than me, but a lot scored below me too. It’s not so bad being the median. The view is pretty solid on both sides. Many sides. Because as we all know, there are some very fine people on both sides. 

Being an adult is very lonely. My parents aren’t there to catch me when I fall, and to be honest, I don’t want them to be. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always taking donations (I’ll attach the GoFundMe and Venmo accounts at the bottom of the article).

But, there’s something so fulfilling about doing it on my own. Sure, it may be my pride or ego, but the fact that I’m a 23 year old making it on my own is something to marvel at.

At the same time, it’s fun to go out, pay a cover charge to get into a club, get overpriced, water-downed drinks, be in shoulder-to-shoulder traffic, sweat, and Milly rock the night away to countless Future hits.

I like being alone, and if you catch me on the right day, I prefer it. There’s something so peaceful about turning the key to open your apartment, laying on the couch and finish binging the last season of Gilmore Girls.

At the same time, it’s fun to go out, pay a cover charge to get into a club, get overpriced, water-downed drinks, be in shoulder-to-shoulder traffic, sweat, and Milly rock the night away to countless Future hits.

As an adult, I find myself doing things I feel like I should do, instead of things I want to do too often. I get caught up in a daily, weekly routine. Every Monday on my day off, I go grocery shopping. Every Tuesday, I eat the same turkey burger for lunch (in my defense, it’s a really good turkey burger).

Every Thursday, I rush home so I can watch Olivia Pope and Annalise Keating (I am not ashamed, nor will I ever stop doing this).

I give myself a quota. I make myself leave the house go do something at least once a week. It can be going to see latest Marvel movie, go enjoy Taco Tuesday, or go see the greatest rapper of all time in concert (4:44 Tour is amazing, Jay-Z has hits for days).

Then, there’s work. Everyone hates the clock. 4:59pm has to be the most maligned time ever. All it every gets is rolled eyes, sighs, and pleas to hurry up. 4:59pm is the stepchild of time. It’s the kid in class that asked the teacher about homework the night before that no one else in the class completed. We all hated that kid.

5:00 pm is loved everywhere by everyone. It’s so loved that we call it “Happy Hour.” We celebrate it by saying, “It’s Happy Hour somewhere.” 5:00pm is everyone’s Man Crush Monday or Woman Crush Wednesday. 

I’m starting to believe some of friends don’t have actual jobs. Instead, they’re all Instagram models with booking info in their bios. I see them on vacations on a beach more than I do inside a cubicle or an office of any kind.

I say all that to say, a lot of people don’t like their job. The best part of their day is leaving work. For me, the best part of mine is arriving to work. I work in sports. Who wouldn’t be excited to come into work everyday?

Are there parts of work that aren’t all that glorious and fun? Sure. But when you can argue over LeBron staring down Michael Jordan, the Alabama dynasty that will never end, and how much you wish to be off a Black & Mild and Henndawg with Marshawn Lynch and Shannon Sharpe, does anything else really matter?

Work is my long tees. It’s the colorful skinny jeans. It’s the endless parties.

Being an adult is tough enough. Don’t add the added pressure of pretending to be someone you’re not. Do what works for you.

Everything isn’t for everybody, but happiness is.

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