The definition of work

For about three and a half years, from 11th grade until the summer after my freshman year in college, I was convinced that I was going to be an engineer.  My mother worked for a civil engineering firm at the time, and so I knew what it took to be successful.  I enjoyed high school physics.  I was pretty good at math.  Most importantly, I had been fascinated by that one parking space set perpendicular to all the rest in the SKH lot.  I was golden.

Except.

I hated college physics.  I wasn’t very good at calculus without my fancy calculator.  Most importantly, I realized I could enjoy the mind that thought up the SKH parking space while not having to have that same mind within me.  An engineer, I am not.