Basket Shopping
One of the first questions we’re asked as kids is, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My first answer was “builder.” I wanted to build great big buildings everywhere.

I learned not long after that, that the ones who design the buildings are called architects. I liked that; a word that seemed to encompass the perceived intricacies of the discipline and the beauty of its product.

I come from a line of builders, and architecture has always been an influence on my life. I often thought about the way light would shine through the windows in the morning, painting the walls of my room with stark lines and accents that would welcome me to a fresh, new day; a reminder of the opportunities ahead.

Of course, you could estimate the time you spent lying there by how much the lines had moved since you woke up.

My hometown has grown a lot since I was a kid, and it seems that once you find all of the buildings have been built, another goes up.

I grew up—I think? I mean, that’s what we’re supposed to say when we’re nearing thirty, right? But, no matter the times I’ve circled the sun, I still haven’t figured out what to do. What’s the one thing I should do for the rest of my life to keep me happy and pay the bills? Is it even the right question to ask? I feel like I’ve done it all, yet, what’s left is all that I haven’t.

Life’s short. Would you be happy with a single egg in your basket at the end of the day? Because I’d rather get there with a briefcase full of stories than one full of papers.

I might not have much to say right now, but what I do have is thirty. And if I get another round of it–or two–who knows where I’ll end up.

Whether it’s music, writing, studying, or dreaming up luxury waterfront condos on Mars, it doesn’t really matter what I do.
I’m here.