Back in November 2015, I remember feeling a bit adrift, you know? Just cruising along in my corporate job, doing the daily grind, but deep down, I felt this itch, a restlessness. I even remember glancing at one of those online Pisces career outlooks around that time, just for a laugh. It probably said something vague about ‘new opportunities on the horizon’ or ‘unforeseen changes,’ and I just rolled my eyes, thinking, “Yeah, right. Another Tuesday, another spreadsheet.” Little did I know, that particular November was indeed shaping up to be a pretty big turning point, just not in the way I expected from some horoscope.
I was in this pretty bland office job, pushed papers, answered emails, the usual. But on the side, I’d started messing around with a tiny hobby project. I’d always had this knack for simplifying complicated stuff, breaking it down so even my grandma could get it. So, I figured, why not try to record some short videos, just for fun, explaining really simple tech concepts? Things like, “How to organize your desktop” or “Basic photo editing for dummies.”
I started with literally nothing. Grabbed my old phone, found a corner in my tiny apartment with decent light, and just hit record. The first videos were awful, truly. Shaky camera, terrible echo, me mumbling. I used some free app on my phone to chop bits together. No fancy intros, no music, just raw, unedited me, trying to explain something. I remember the sheer awkwardness of talking to a camera like it was a person. It felt ridiculous. But I told myself, “Just post one. See what happens.” And I did. Then another. And another. Nobody really watched them, maybe a few friends who stumbled upon it. But I kept going.
The real shift started in late 2015, right after that November period. I was just consistently putting stuff out. Nothing went viral, nothing exploded. It was a slow, agonizing crawl. I’d finish my work day, grab some food, and then spend hours watching tutorials myself – how to edit better, how to improve sound, how to make a thumbnail that didn’t look like a blurry potato. I saved up some cash from my regular job, bought a cheap USB microphone, then a slightly better webcam. I even rigged up some makeshift lighting with desk lamps and bedsheets. It was a proper DIY operation.
Slowly, ever so slowly, things started to pick up. A handful of views turned into a few dozen. Then, one video, where I broke down a slightly more complex software update, actually hit a couple of hundred views. And people started leaving comments. Not just trolls, but actual questions, genuine thanks. That was a game-changer. It wasn’t just me talking to a void anymore; there were real people on the other side, finding value in what I was doing. That’s when it clicked for me, this wasn’t just a silly hobby anymore. It was something people genuinely needed, and I could provide it.
From there, the process became almost obsessive. I started mapping out video ideas, researching topics, scripting out what I wanted to say. I learned about keywords and analytics, trying to understand what people were searching for. My editing skills got better, my voice became more confident, and I actually started to enjoy being in front of the camera. It felt like I was building something, brick by brick, entirely on my own terms.
This went on for a good year or so. My regular job felt more and more like a distraction. I was putting in 40 hours there, then another 30-40 hours on my creative project every week. Weekends were spent filming and editing. Friends would ask me to hang out, and I’d often have to decline because I had a deadline for myself. It was exhausting, but it was also exhilarating. Every new subscriber, every kind comment, every small milestone felt like a massive victory.
By late 2016, my side project started generating a little bit of income, enough to cover my internet bill, maybe a new piece of equipment. Then it grew to cover my rent. I started dreaming of a real change. It wasn’t just about the money, it was about the freedom, the feeling of purpose that my old job just couldn’t give me. The decision felt scary as hell, but it also felt inevitable. I knew I couldn’t keep doing both at that intensity forever.
So, what was in store for that November 2015 Pisces, you ask? Well, it wasn’t a sudden promotion or a big corporate ladder climb. It was me, pushing record on a shoddy camera, mumbling into a cheap mic, and starting something entirely new, something born out of a quiet frustration and a stubborn desire to just try. That small beginning turned into me eventually waving goodbye to my old job and diving headfirst into making content full-time. It truly was an unforeseen change, a whole new horizon, and it all kicked off that November, without me even realizing it at the time.
