No one I know would ever accuse me of being ambitious in the technical sense. Weird, compassionate, dark, verbose; yes. Drawn to and propelled by some societally deemed, capitalist driven, status and materially rich nirvana? Never have I ever. Not to damn the people who are. I admire my friend’s ability to navigate the ridiculous stress and schedules; their tenacity in the face of stereotypical, bureaucratic power moves. I think holding yourself to a high level of occupational character challenges you as a person. It propels you onto a path where you can become the most traditionally successful version of yourself.

Lately though, I find I’m pushing myself. Not for the benjamins or quality of living. Not to pole vault over my “station in life”. But to see what I’m actually capable of. That’s kind of a new endeavor. For a lot of years I had solid, unchanging ideas of exactly who I was. What drove me, where I excelled, what my talents were, and what made me happy. But in the last few years, that has been turned on it’s ass 17 times, shaken up, knocked rigorously against a cement wall (or 3), and finally thrown up into the clouds like glitter. I have no idea what I can accomplish now, with effort wrought from passion and interest as opposed to obligation.

One of the most maddening and inspirational aspects of this human journey we’re on is how we morph and grow and change; sometimes in the blink of an eye. Other times it’s so subtle you’re barely aware of who you’ve become or how. Who do you want to be? What’s stopping you from finding out?

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