There are two positions in life a person aspires to be: the one we write down on paper and the subtle one that can never quite be defined.

The question was so much simpler as a kid.

“What do you want to be?”

“A zoo keeper!”

And then I would eat my PB&J sandwich.

When I think of my aspirations now, I have to break down my future into an algebra problem where I’m trying to solve for x. I know x is some part of my life, but I’m too busy trying to sustain my entire life to figure out where it fits into the equation.

My paper answer to the question is “creative designer.”

The subtle answer is I’m working at a cluttered desk late at night at the office, hunched over a busy desk. My fingertips are stained with black ink and the walls are lined with notes and doodles. I’m almost done and I think of a warm home I’ll see soon. I remind myself of the other personal projects I need to squeeze into my precious free time. Among all of this, there is happiness, because I’m too busy to feel anything else.

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