As I ended the worst job of my life, a year long internship in a sexist office with the world’s worst communicator as boss, and I left my four year old best friend whom I’d grown attached to in a year of nannying, I sat in an empty room in an empty house and I felt so completely at peace with what lie ahead of me.
Like the blank walls of my now bare living room, the future was, and still is, an empty canvas. With no clue what I want to do for a career, and few certain goals in mind, I planned for the month following the end of my jobs to be a month void of typical adult responsibilities. Yes, I still have bills to pay, a bank account to manage, and jobs to apply for, but in my heart I knew I needed June to be a time of freedom, adventure, and spontaneity. The months leading up to June had me scheduling concerts, parties, and vacations that all just happened to be in June, so it seemed unlikely I’d be able to hold down a brand new job anyway, with such a sentiment, hippie June was born.