Wishful thinking

I'm brand new in the working world.

Freshly graduated, I've just started my real job and so far finding it more difficult than school and co-op (basically, internships) have taught me. Which is fine. I depend on the fact that the institution that I paid oodles of money to would ineveitably lie to me, no matter how many oodles I gave them.

But as I sit at my desk - my *dream* desk, I'm told - I realize that I wish I had the money or the guts (because guts, I'm learning, can take the place of money if followed and employed right), to quit the desk, give up the lie that I've learned to embrace, and be daring. Go to Europe. Spend a year learning how to be a photographer with only landscapes and inanimate objects and unsuspecting subjects to be my guide. Find a cafe in a small, unknown place, and write until I have no words left in me. To abandon the community responsibilities and family responsibilities, and all of the "this is right, so do it" my life is filled with.

Just give it all up and find myself.

That, I think, would be a much more interesting and more real invention of myself. Because then I wouldn't be able to hide behind the comforting thought, this is where I'm supposed to be. This is who I'm supposed to be. This is what I need to do.

All I would have is me. And my guts. And my no money.

Then I'd be real.

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