I’ve never been very good at being stuck inside. Put me in a room long enough and the four walls start to close in. My recent change in employment has only reified what I think I have always known.

I am currently a staff writer at the Richmond County Daily Journal; don’t get me wrong, writing for a newspaper has expanded my horizons professionally and academically in ways other jobs never have. But – 4 white walls, a desk, laptop, monitor, and landline telephone greet me every morning. While professionals across the country seethe, scratch, and squabble for their own office, given a couple hours of fastidious labor, mine begins to feel more like a prison than a throne of creative expression.

I think the game of LIFE ruined me as a child. When you are growing up in the early 90’s without a lot of money, LIFE established the professional hierarchy to strive for. Doctors and Lawyers make the most money – when you don’t have it, that’s all that matters. Do good in school, go to college, go to graduate school, make money, be happy, the end.

So that’s what I did. I excelled academically through primary school, attained nearly every academic accolade on offer at my university, and headed off to law school, not to save the world like many of my well-to-do compatriots, but to make money and exist above the poverty line. While the bootstrap fallacy has been proven to be just that – a fallacy, I thought being an attorney would solve all my worldly problems.

Unfortunately, or maybe otherwise, somewhere along the line I started to despise being stuck inside. I became repulsed by the idea of riding a desk to retirement, chained to four posts, fingers arthritic from the repetitive tap, tap, tapping of a keyboard that seemed to permeate the jobs that require a sport coat and tie. I got so bored, I dropped out of law school and eventually joined the military.

Like a freight train barreling down the tracks, years came and went, and suddenly I was a civilian again. During the little gaps of life, I’ve done a million jobs. I’ve worked on a farm, renovated houses, taught high school, gave surf lessons – really anything to keep me out of a traditional office environment.

But here I am back in the office. The daily grind, cup of coffee in the morning, cup of coffee in the afternoon.

To be honest, this go-round, it’s not so bad. When the room starts to shrink and I start crawling the walls, I sit in the bed of my truck and write stories for the good folks in Richmond County. I don’t know if I’ll ever end up being an attorney, or reaching the apex of success prescribed in LIFE, but I do know I’m learning to live with working in an office.