I have dreams that drive me, even when I wish not to be so inspired. It is so that I have been told: if your dreams don’t degenerate (almost immediately) into hard work, they are merely convenient illusions. You’d never get there if you never actually started going. If you bear the path long enough, you begin to understand what it means for one to have a commitment to something. Something noble and good — that is the purpose of life, is it not? To quest for the Holy Grail, to have a destiny that one would call a destiny, a calling that is not merely one’s desire? Yes, I tire along the way, but I never stopped being human, and am capable only of very finite things. So I must chip away, etch my place in the world. Not everyone has a dream, and I should count my lucky stars, especially in the wee hours of the night, struggling with my ideas, knowing I’ll have to wake up early for that wage job I still have to have. Yes, it is luck, I must tell myself, however much it resembles this hard, lonely work….