In my broken Japanese, I told the human resource personnel of the clothing company I applied for that I only have experience working for a shave ice shop. Then the person said, “Okay, I will let you know our decision after we review your case.” She didn’t sound promising at all. I didn’t sound like a possible candidate for the job anyway, but I just thought I had to give it a try.

As I forced myself to make the phone call, I realized that getting a paid job is all about making money. If people don’t work, they will not be able to buy food and pay for housing. They won’t be able to survive (I wonder why I’m getting this now). But there I was, always wondering what kind of writing I should do. I felt like a day dreamer escaping from reality.

Yet, the whole experience of applying for a job made me realize I was just trying to escape from writing, an effort which will never work. I was afraid that studying philosophy wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I changed my major. I escaped from what I wanted to do, like what I did again this time with my application.

So I’m back to the keyboard and the screen, to my words again, knowing I will save myself and the world some time to stop trying to work at a job that I don’t fit in.