I look at my clock in dread as I consider another day at the store. The longer I stay there, the more my desire to write grows, to work at something I love instead of simply helping to line the pockets of CEOs that care nothing for my efforts. I won’t bother giving you all the details of my master plan, you’ve probably heard it all before, after all, how many of us aspire to be full-time writers? A few years ago I was living on the fence, what did I want to do with my life? I felt like I had already missed so many opportunities due to indecision but I boiled everything down to a few paths.

One path was that of psychology. I have a keen interest in the human mind, and I seem to have this face that makes people want to tell me their problems. Once, I walked into a trading card shop, a hobby of mine, out of town where no one new me or my family, and this older gentleman starts telling me about how he’s at that shop to spend time with his grandson because he and his son had a falling out and doesn’t bring the kid to see him anymore. That conversation started in about four seconds.

Another path I considered was Anthropology. I’ve always wanted to try and map out the spread of human civilization and I feel like culture, and language specifically, is the key. Most languages are just derivatives of another after all, like how the romance languages were all born out of Latin. I’d like to fill in all the branches on the tree if you’ll pardon the analogy.

My final path, and choice, was writing. I’ll try to summarize everything from my previous posts by simply saying: a desire to write has always been with me but it always had the least support. I broke down a few weeks before I started this blog while discussing with my parents how stalled out in life I felt. I presented the same paths to them and to writing my father said: “That’s just a hobby.” He was right, back then, I was working on a children’s book but I only devoted a few hours one day a week to it, writing and illustrating. I remember my answer to him then was: “It doesn’t have to be.” In the end, I couldn’t escape that desire, so I branched out. I started this blog, and found an opportunity to write for my church in a more official capacity. After I actually showed some dedication, my parents took to reading my blog (Hi, Mom) and spreading it around. The guy I intended to talk to at church concerning writing for the website, actually came to me after hearing about my blog from my father.

I’m running short on time so I’ll just close with this: Thank you, to those ten wonderful people who’ve decided to follow me. It’s a small milestone but it still means a lot to me. If you’d like, please follow me on Twitter (Facebook did me dirty so screw ’em) where I’ll post some notices, like the one following this sentence, and maybe pitch some ideas. Concerning my serial post for last week, I was having trouble finding the information I needed for this segment during my research, so I decided to postpone it instead of writing a bunch of fluff. Please continue to watch me as I pilot my blog-ship, I hope you enjoy the ride, and keep an eye open tomorrow for another poem inspired by storm clouds (why do I such an affinity for rain though?).

God bless.