I should be passionate about journalism. I should have loved my shadow day at Sauce Magazine. I should be able to convince myself this is right. I should love this. As much as I should, I love it not. And that’s where I get stuck. In this perpetual, and rocky, cycle of should. What is should? As it turns out, it’s an indication of something that is probable or correct. In my mind, journalism seems probable or correct. But I don’t feel it’s correct. Every time I endeavor back into journalism, there is inevitably something missing. And by missing I don’t mean it feels as if there is something lacking. What I mean is that there is a sense of adventure, of thrill, of newness, of movement, of freedom that is missing. Even in shadowing at Sauce Magazine, something I should have loved in theory for its beautiful mix of food and writing, I still felt a sense of loss. A sense of entrapment. But I realized that I had found a fascination in the “wrong” place; I was enamored by the two chefs who the editor interviewed but not in a way where I wanted to write about them and tell their story, rather that I was fascinated by everything they have done so far and all that they are doing currently, just exacerbating the idea that I want to be the one with the fascinating story, not necessarily telling a fascinating story in order to fill the hollowness of my own life. If I can have a fascinating life and tell fascinating stories in whatever way I see fit, then I think that would be the dream, but I don’t think that awaits me in journalism, as much as I wish it did. But still I’m stuck between should and a hard place because on the one hand I feel journalism would indeed be correct of me, it would fit to some extent. While on the other hand, I am so far from the shore at this point in terms of being able to understand what direction I should travel in. Instead I float along, seeking an island of intrigue and still being surprised that there is no land of intrigue insight, so much as islands depleted and worn from having already been explored with nothing new to offer. So I sail on, with little but hope guiding me into the seemingly endless expanse of water.