Thursday, September 4, 2008


I once had a life that was lively, exciting, challenging, directed, purposeful, meaningful, and best of all, included the love and relationship of my two children.

I have to re-tell some of this, because getting it out once in a while, even describing the same things, is (I am told) going to make what my life has now become more bearable.

I had a good job, about the top of my field, the “fair haired boy” of a small software company, hobbies, friends, activities, and beginning to seriously consider graduate school because while I made more money than I knew how to spend, I was unfulfilled,

I had known what I was supposed to be doing that would bring fulfillment (beyond making good money) since I was about seven or eight years old. That question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” was not producing a “normal” answer to me. At that age, my family had a set of the World Book Encyclopedias and I read almost every article over a few years. I particularly loved the entries on the sciences. So, my fake answer was that I wanted to be a scientist.

Actually, it was true that I did want to be a scientist, but that is not what I thought I was supposed to be—not what I thought I would become. I kept my vocation a secret, telling no one.

Over the next years, I enjoyed the academics of school, but pursued nothing with a passion because of this secret. I knew that what I was being taught was not directly relevant to what I was already and what I knew, somehow, I was supposed to become. Seven year old's don’t have the vocabulary and life experience to speak or even analyze to any benefit what I now can express at least in part:

Copyright © 2008 W. Crews Giles

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