“What do you want to be when you grow up?” “Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief…”. And ever since then I’ve tried to label myself something exciting, something meaningful. Secretary wasn’t something I’m proud of. Administrative assistant was little better but my job is not who I am. I’m so much more. However, musician and writer seem too lofty. And why, I ask myself, do I need to label myself? It’s not just finding my place in society, describing myself in ways that others can understand and therefore communicate with me. It’s as if I’m not allowed to do the thing unless I have an imprimatur. Only if I’m a writer do I deserve the time to write. Only a musician gets time away from the boring, hum drum chores of life to play an instrument or even, (don’t let anyone hear) compose. Why do I still feel that everything and everyone else deserves their time to do what they like, but I must steal mine, hoping no one notices the dishes aren’t done while I type quietly in fierce bursts of energy?