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I’m in my mid twenties. I’m lost. I’m a mother of one, but I don’t define my “self” through motherhood, even though my daughter is my “most important person.”

I’m a wannabe academic. I’m a grad student in the Women’s Studies department at Memorial University of Newfoundland, but I’m not the type who is organised enough to apply for external funding. I’m passionate about my studies, but probably not for the right reasons. I want to succeed, really desperately. To me, that means making money and gaining the respect of my peers, my elders, and the general population. People have always thought I’m a screw-up, at best. I’ve been called selfish, short-sighted, stupid, irresponisble, lazy, useless, and worthless (among other things). None of those terms are wholly wrong or right. After a certain amount of time, if the same things keep being repeated, they reify themselves and become true. What I want most is to make everyone who ever thought of me like that recognise that I can be more than those things. Entering the academic world seemed like the best way to do that, but I actually think I might be setting myself up for a catastrophic failure…

If I’m most honest with myself, what I really want is to write. Yes, fiction. Yes, I know that’s what everyone and their dog wants to do. We all think we’re writers. But still… I want to write. I want to move to Japan. I want to be in love with someone who also loves me. I want a family. I want to be able to control how I spend my time. I want to be happy, and I want Evelyn to be happy too.

I’m afraid that my wish for my own happiness might be stronger than my wish for Evelyn’s.

I’m ambitious, but for poor reasons. I want to succeed, but I don’t care how, where, or why.

Aimless Ambition, right?



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