On my way home last night, I was able to pass by a building that houses an old publishing company. The certain familiar smell of print and papers fills the air. I smiled, an automatic response I have been programmed to do so ever since, (because that scent meant one thing--BOOKS!) but then all of a sudden, I feel like tearing up.
Really, I am not even kidding. I smiled and teared up all at the same time. Believe me, this even sound so ridiculous to me, but it was real. It is real.
The scent of the print and paper in the air perked me up and there was little somersaults in the beats of my heart as I trotted along the way. The smell alone made me happy. I thought, I wanted to be surrounded by this kind of smell everyday. I wanted to smell the newly printed books; I wanted to be part of the process of completing and distributing it to people;
Have you every experienced the exhilarating feeling of doing something you really want to do? That feeling where in no matter how tough that thing is, you are willing to risk it just for the sake of doing it for a long, long time? This is what comes into my mind every time get to write books, or just simply get to smell them. This, I said to myself with conviction, is want I want to do every single day. I desperately want to take the path of publishing.
It is rare for someone to know what he/she really wants to do in life, and I have been very much lucky to determine what path I really want to take at such an early age. I never really see myself doing anything else and without writing, I probably do not know where I am going.
And that desperation and the need of pursuing the passion made me tear up last night. It wasn't tears brought forth by sadness, but rather tears of determination. I want to be part of the industry the binds collective ideas into prints, but then again, no matter how much I want it, luck still haven't smiled on me yet.
I have been actively searching for work in different publishing companies for months now. I am ready to embrace the tough road, but it seems I still haven't found the place for to start my career. If I were to be honest, it started to frustrate me. And during these times, I would often doubt myself and think if what I am pursuing is the right road for me. Should I just give up the dream of working in publishing and find another one that would be suitable for me?
But on that way home last night, my heart reminded me of the reason why I am alive right now. I set aside my doubts and remember that I live to write and no matter what or how long it takes, I'll persevere until I can pursue what I want.
I walked away, with my renewed hope that one day, I would be able to go to work and smell all the print and papers all I want. Ah, such a dream that I will work hard for it to come true.