Dreamer. Dabbler. Wannabe Renaissance man. Run-of-the-mill wunderkind. Tested better in math than language, but still opted to pursue the English route—followed the whims of a naive heart, not standardized test augury (nor projected earning potential). A father at 22, (my college graduation gift to myself), returned to school five years later for an English Literature M.A. After the divorce, doubled down on a TESOL M.A—textbook case of sunk-cost thinking. An empty nester at 40 (the returns on my college graduation gift), made the jump to expat life to teach in the Gulf—a prescient move before Trump and the COVID tsunami decimated international education in the US. Unlucky with love. Alone but not lonely. Did all my travelling on my own. Now, approaching 48 and preparing for the second act of a two-act play. Still need to make more leaps of faith from ice floe to ice floe. Stay the course, pivot, or pray for an unexpected windfall?
After “Dream Job” by Nicole Connolly
Photo by Simon Maisch on Unsplash
opusculum 