All the pieces connect now

Some days we are just on a roll. Motivation is second nature, our attention is set, pens ready. We could be talking to our own grandmother, and still spin the way we relate to her so well, it's like gold on paper. Proud of every piece we write and publish, with a thirst for whatever lies ahead-these are the traits that drive chameleon journalists to seek out the truths in humanity and relate them back to readers. Some days, we are just on our game.

And then there are days like today.

Days where we wonder what direction we are heading. Can I focus on what I need to in order to secure a lucrative creative writing job, or am I haunted to write for small-timers or advertising-driven weeklies for the rest of my days?

There is so, so much I need to learn. In all honesty, I am an impostor with no tangible credentials, wandering the streets in desperate search for inspiration in any form. Armed with a pen and paper, I am forced to come up with my own tricks as I go, much to the dismay of early work, all written without rules or rhyme.

I know my mentor Mr. Brian once told me that majoring in advertising when I really wanted a career in journalism wasn't too much of a stretch for most. But I can't help but regret most of the curriculum I have been forced to soak up over the past two years, while valuable time goes wasted coming up with passionless campaigns for a client that is probably benefiting from all of the free labor UT gives it.

In the end, we are what we want to be.