How did I get here?

That's a solid question that doesn't have an easy answer. If the universe listened to me and my desires, by this stage in my life I would be working in robotics, creating creatures designed to make human kind's life easier. That's not how my story goes.

Every single plan I've ever had or more correctly tried to have, failed, spectacularly. I'm reminded of Edward Cayce who had a desire to open a photography studio, but every attempt ended in disaster, including a fire.

A lot had to do with poverty, the lack of a mentor, and a general poor attitude and general naivety. I won't be hard on myself because all of those factors, or any of them alone, are a terrible way to try to venture out into the world. I was smart, really smart, which actually didn't help. It kind of creates an unjustified sense of entitlement, like being intelligent is enough to get you through the world. It's not. It's so very not. Our society rewards things that I wouldn't. Not to mention the vagina lottery, whereas you get an amazing start depending on the status of your parents. It's always a curiosity on how things could turn out given different circumstances.

The sob childhood story only counts so far, especially at my age. I learned that poverty sucked and started early at trying to escape it. I began working at the farm down the road when I was 11. Not anything amazing, a couple chores for a couple bucks a week. I think the farmers took pity on me, to be honest. I always worked from that point forward, though God knows I would have done better with a guide. My own father, who was a stock broker at the time, didn't bother to teach me how to invest (just a bitch, but it still bothers me). He also didn't invest in me. He lived with his new wife and spent his efforts on her, rather than his family (ok, I'm still a little bitter).

Anyway, I worked, constantly. A paper route, a gas station job, mowing lawns, anything to get money in my pocket. I should have been an American Dream story, but I had no guide. I actually paid to heat my house. I was proud that I could, not bitter that it tore into my savings. Winters could be long if kerosene and oil weren't around. It's strange now. I was the youngest of four, but still had a responsibility.

I graduated high school, not even close to top of the class because there was no challenge in learning. I wish someone could have instilled how much easier life could be if you had a 4.0.

I went to college in the big city. It was an amazing departure for a small town boy. I barely went to class. I found the city and friends and dope far more interesting. Maybe this is a warning to all parents, don't stifle your children or they will run wild once given the chance. My GPA for my first year was 0.69.

I moved back home and began attending a local campus of a state university. I still had to work to pay for gas, books, etc. It wasn't the easiest thing and I still didn't quite get how studying worked. I dreamed of a dual engineering major (it was the 90s) so that I could work on robots which needed mechanical and electrical components to co-exist.

This didn't work out either. I elected to simply receive a B.S.E.E. because I couldn't afford to wait any longer to graduate.

I got a job in telecommunications. My girlfriend/fiancee had an autoimmune disease. We got married immediately so she could be on my insurance. There was a plan that I was going to work in a central office for two years then move to Richardson to the test lab to stress test new equipment. It sounded ideal.

While I was working, I receive a phone call from a recruiter. He wanted to know if I was interested in becoming a patent attorney. At the time, my job was sweet! No stress, long breaks, decent pay, it wasn't my dream job, but I was working toward it. I told the guy there was no way in hell I wanted to be an attorney. That was that.

9/11 happened and shattered America. Additionally, I was working for MCI, soon to become America's biggest bankruptcy. I rethought my decision on patent law.

I applied to law school and was accepted. I still had to work full time to support myself and my family (I was blessed with a daughter, but that also wreaked havoc upon my wife's health). There was absolutely no way I could compete in law school. Some trust fund babies had nothing else to do but study. I worked from 11 to 7, played with my daughter until 10, slept until 2, cooked dinner and went to campus at 5. That was my daily ritual for 4 years (night school took longer).

I graduated in the middle of the great recession. Governor Rendell told my class that this was the worst year to graduate law school since something like 1934. Not very encouraging. In Philadelphia, while a big city, only had a handful of big firms. The year I graduated, a big firm dissolved, so I was in the same employment line as 300 other lawyers with far more experience than I had. The good news was I took a bankruptcy class and could save myself some problems.

I tried to build my own practice. It was not easy. I was doing it, but my sick wife didn't have health insurance (I mean none of us did, but it mattered to her). I took a shit job at the IRS. I was far overqualified (as were so many of my co-workers who started at the same time). I achieved "status." A title that mattered in government work. I could apply for other jobs and got some sort of preference.

I got a job with the government that paid me well and gave me a very flexible schedule. I finally found a place where I could take care of my wife, provide for my family, and plan for a future. It was a long step from where I began. I though I had achieved the greatest accomplishment that I could hope for.

My wife chose a location that was different from our experience which also provided an exceptional educational experience for our daughter. I'm four hours from my next closest relative, six hours from my next closest friend. We enjoyed the beach and watched dolphins frolic in the bay. I could have moved anywhere on the planet if I had her by my side. We have neighborhood ducks and geese. They don't just exist in theory. They wander the suburbs and squat in puddles in the yard. In fact, they are kind of annoying in the way they block traffic from time to time.

I'm hours away from anyone and my wife does the most horrible thing imaginable. She dies on me. I'm now devastated, mostly alone, and fairly isolated from anyone I care about. I have a daughter, who just lost a mother, and has connections to the area. I cannot just up and leave. I'm a man and try to be a good one. I have to give my daughter the best opportunities to heal and I can't convince myself that yanking her from her friends and established life to make me feel better is a fair trade. I'm the grown-up. I know how to suffer for my kid. It'll work out in the long run, no matter how much I hate it.

As my world shattered, I reconnected with people. Friends are the family you choose. One particular invited me to write with a group that was more drunken revelry than anything else. The collaboration was fun and healing. It reawakened a creativity that I had long since forgotten about.

That's why I'm here. Tragedy upon tragedy led me here. I don't begrudge my path. I don't know any other. I am grateful to friends who love me and stick by me, especially when my world shatters into a thousand pieces.

I don't know if this is the road less traveled or simply the best hand from the cards I was dealt. In reality, it doesn't matter. I'm still alive, still trying, and hopeful about the future.