Lately I’ve been contemplating – and actually planning, and taking concrete steps toward – taking my life in another direction altogether. This direction is, to put it bluntly, rather more risky than anything else I have heretofore decided to do with my life. Which makes it definitionally terrifying, and I’m sort of trying to keep it all together about the fact that I am about to toss all of my safe little chips into the air and… well, you know the rest.
This takes both deep breaths and big thoughts, of course. Because the (corporate, professional) path I am currently on has always felt wrong on any number of small fronts – I hate offices, I hate office wear, I alternately find businessmen delusional or hilarious (and not in a good way). These are not necessarily, either of themselves or in the aggregate, reason enough to Be A Writer (which is the risky thing for me, here) instead of just about anything else. Particularly something that I currently seem to be good at, which is lucrative, which locates me in my city and country of choice… I could go on.
But in both the pro and con columns, what I have are small things. What’s tilting the calculus is the big thing: what is my Purpose? Pretentious, I know, but there you have it.