In anticipation of my birthday, which occurs in just over a month, I’ve decided to become contemplative.  “Decided” is a stretch – mostly, like breathing, it simply happens of its own accord.  Six-to-eight weeks before every New Year’s and every mid-April reflections like these happen.  It’s all the usual nonsense that has bothered me since I was a teenager, nonsense that seems, despite the passage of many years and purported maturation, never to relent—What am I doing with my life?!?  Am I happy?  Am I living in a manner that I find encompasses integrity??  Etc and so on.  Mostly my contemplations revolve around the two subjects that I imagine bugger most people: Career and Relationships.  Have I found work I enjoy and that fulfills me?  Do I have good friends?  Am I a solid romantic partner? Exactly the sorts of concerns that reasonably self-aware people realize we’re privileged enough to fritter our time away worrying about.

Earlier today I was walking the streets pondering just such questions when I came across the following local newspaper.  I didn’t read beyond the headline to flush out the story—somehow additional details seemed guaranteed to prove anti-climactic.  When it comes to resolving my dual concerns about vocation and love the title says it all.