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Almost everyday, I wake up in bed and ask myself, “What do I want to do with my life?”

You know, when I was a kid, I thought that life would fall neatly into place when I grow up. I would get a job, get married, have a house, have children and just sail through life. But things aren’t that simple. The family and marriage part is coming along nicely – it’s the part about career which worries me.

I am not an ambitious person. I strive to be happy in what I do and to earn a comfortable living. So what if I don’t become an editor, so what if I can’t afford to buy that Prada purse? It’s not that big a deal to me. All I aim for in life is to be happy and have enough time for myself and my family. But the problem is, as much as I don’t want to be a career ladder climber, these days, my job shapes my mood and my feelings.

I don’t know when exactly it was that I started losing confidence in my writing here. Somewhere along the way, I became worried that I am not suitable for the job and it has lingered. And now, I am faced with a problem: I don’t know what I want to do, or can do. If I stay on, which I want to for a while more, am I able to deliver? Can I work with my boss, who, although very nice, drives me up the wall with her inefficiencies and disorganisation? If I go, where am I to go, especially with the economy looking like such a miserable cow? What do I do – stick with writing, or a writing-related job (like editing), or completely abandon the writing ship and jump to be a corporate executive?

In my dream scenario, I would be sitting at home, writing up a storm and earning my keep from freelance work. But with my name unfamiliar to commercial entities (where all the money really is), it’s going to take a huge leap of faith for me to do the unthinkable.

And so, invariably, I ask myself, “What do I want to do with my life?”

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