Image from Alexander R. Yee

My brain is a jumbled mess of titles at the moment: public relations executive, reporter, award-winning author, teacher and secretary. I was laid off from journalism over a year ago. Since then, I began work as an answering service operator, signed up for an English class and the GRE and set my sights on being a writer and a teacher, but there are times when I still get confused.

I really can’t believe they ask high school juniors and seniors to figure out what they want to do so early in their lives. Figuring out a vocation isn’t even easy at 26. I have to think of something halfway lucrative to do with my life. I just have to. The question is: What?

My sanity dwindles when I go through these periods of contemplation. Writing keeps me together. The pen has always been a sacred companion in my life.
At nine, I thought I had a lot of problems: my sister’s tormenting, bedtime and fourth grade. It was right around this time that my mom gave me an old day planner for a journal; I wrote in it faithfully, scribbling away about my daily trials. I have about twenty journals now in a wide assortment of colors and sizes. I love getting new ones and filling them up. But even when I don’t have a journal handy, I find something to write on: a receipt, the back of a flyer, a wrapper or…my hand.

One of my favorite songs is 2 a.m. by Anna Nalick. There is one lyric in particular that I can relate to: “Two AM and I am still awake writing a song; if I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me, threatening the life it belongs to.” Writing helps me sort it all out.

I write poetry, ideas, letters, essays, stories, to-do lists, ramblings, and occasionally, I will draw pictures. It’s not all about me. It is about people that I know and love, and people I don’t know and don’t like but still love, moments where things made sense and moments where I desperately needed some sort of a compass.

I may not have that coveted $30,000 a year, 401-K-included, 9-5 job right now, and I may never have one, but I know I will always have a pen and paper (or something that will pass as paper),which means I can write. And I will. I will write. I will write. I will write, even if I never get paid for it.

Someone said this once. I forgot who it was, and it’s an awful cliché, but I am going to say it anyway: Find something you love to do and do it. That is my suggestion to all of you out there who are searching for your life’s vocation. Just simply do something you love even if you can’t get paid for it, and do it a lot.