For a really long time, I wanted to be a magazine editor. Or rather, I wanted to start my own magazine and then declare myself “editor.” It was my life-long dream. Everyone who knew me, knew I would one day be an Editor-in-Chief.
Then something happened. I guess you could just call it “life.”
Life happened, as it tends to do and I was sidetracked from my dream.
The trouble is, that dream had been with me for so long that I almost didn’t know who I was–or who I was supposed to be–without it. For as long as I could remember, I had envisioned myself living in New York City, scraping by, but wildly in love and passionate about my fledgling, yet growing political magazine.
So, when the reality that this little dream would probably never actually become reality itself set in, I was shaken. Continue reading The Death of My Dream