“You’re quitting.”

My boss is a good guy. I’ve observed to him that he is one of the most peculiar fellows I’ve ever met. Though this seems to wound him, he takes it in good cheer. While I find him utterly indecipherable, that sense of opacity doesn’t go both ways. He reads minds, when he remembers to venture outside of his own.

“…How did you know?”

I decided one afternoon in January that I would quit my job. In the midst of terrifying economic headlines, soaring unemployment and an uncertain future, I chose to separate myself from an organization that loved me, paid me well and showed me endless respect and appreciation.

“It’s nothing about working for me, or anything, is it? Because if there’s something else you’d rather be doing, we can find you a different spot, working on something else.”

Full Sail University is a private school on the northern end of Orlando. Trying to describe Full Sail takes the better part of our 200 page catalog, and even that barely scratches the surface. Let’s just say it’s one of the most incredible places anyone could ever work. I got my Bachelor’s at Full Sail and I’ve worked there six years: first as an intern, next as its first search engine marketing manager, then as a project manager for our COO.

“You’ve been a great boss. I’m not leaving because of you. And I still believe in the incredible work we do. I’m leaving because if I stay here, I’ll have a solid future with a lot of growth and responsibility. And that will be great. But I’ll never do the thing that I’m supposed to do. The thing I was made to do.”

I never planned a six year stint at a private college in Florida, of all places. But I was lucky: Full Sail took me seriously and invested heavily in my growth. I was spoiled rotten and so I stayed. Despite this prolonged comfort, somehow I felt no fear as I told my boss I’d be leaving no later than July 1st. The sense of command, clarity and confidence it gave to my future was a powerful horse that I rode into the decision.

“Early on, I had this same conversation with my boss. I was convinced I had to leave to do what I had to do. Are you sure leaving is the only way you can do this?”

Since that day, I half-heartedly worked at finding my next job. The realization came slowly, over three months. The truth is that I don’t want another job. I don’t want another boss. I am the best-qualified person to analyze and direct my energies. I am happiest when I have the freedom to split up my day into two or three chunks. I’m happiest when I can work all morning and take the afternoon off, then come back to my project at midnight and work until sunrise. I am positively blissful when making my own decisions and executing them without need for approval, delegation or committee discussion. As of today, my job search is over. I’m my next job.

“I love everyone here. It’s not that I want to get away from here. It’s that I need to make things. I need to take a space that has nothing and fill it with a something. Something that works well. Something that makes people happy. That makes their lives better. I need to go in search of how to dedicate 100% of my energies to that task.”

So on July 1st, I’ll say goodbye to my job. I’ll say goodbye to Florida on my longest roadtrip ever and make a new home somewhere around Seattle — Bellevue is looking great. I will cultivate my lifelong obsession with the creation of things that make people happy. Somehow, I will keep myself clothed, fed and out of the rain. It’s going to be hard. I’m confident that if I keep at it, continue working at it every single day until it drives me mad, then keep going anyway, I’ll be okay. The details are, as they say, just details.

Most importantly, though, I will be living for my own purposes as my own keeper.

I’m sure there will be a paycheck or two still to be collected in my future: maybe something part-time at Whole Foods to make ends meet or, heck, even some short-term officey stuff if it’s for a group who can teach me about how to better be a maker of things. The focus, though, is now all about personally setting the course for my everyday life.

I can’t wait for July.