It’s Monday. Pouring rain. I go out walking on an errand. It’s coming down hard. I duck into the window nook of a shop and stay there for a while, waiting for the rain to let up. It doesn’t. I dash, collar up on my long wool coat.

I think about our modern dress, how we wear synthetic jackets for the rain. I like my wool coat. This is what people have worn to stave off rain for much of human history. Rain is only sweet, sweet water falling from the sky. It won’t harm us. So I strut with my collar up, passing others who are wet without umbrellas. We smile.

It’s pouring rain, and I live in New York. Cool.

Back at my apartment, I take off my wet clothes and sit back down at my computer. Start looking at job listings, trying to figure out what to do with my life. Easy.

It makes me anxious. I’m staring into an abyss.

I’m looking for a job that will validate me as a writer. Something that gets me into the door of the professional writing world. A title. Income. Making money from doing a thing means what we’re doing has value, right? Maybe. Or maybe not at all.

Where does value come from? Can value come from making people smile?

Can value come from simply being born on planet Earth?

Why do I need a title or a paycheck to feel validated?

What do you want?

Close your eyes and speak the words

Speak in laughter and in tears

A sunny day and stormy night

Speak light into your ribcage

Breathe wind into your fingers

And with them spin the web of your

Wild existence.

Don’t succumb.

What do you want?

Is it fair to even know?

I’ve applied to many of the fancy roles. I tell myself I’ll be happy learning from somebody more experienced and wiser than me; I think that’s it. I just want to learn. But at the heart of it, I just want to create. But I need to make an income.

I tell myself that being an editorial assistant or an associate editor or a project manager is what I want, because I’ll be learning about the writing world while also making money to live. And then I’ll be validated.

But when I think about the day to day life of actually being in that role, I wonder if I’ll just hate it.

Is that me?

I really don’t think so. I’m sure I’d learn a ton from one of these roles. But is it me?

I’m not a corporate guy whatsoever. If I were making money doing what I love, I’d never think twice about joining the corporate world. I wouldn’t spend a second of my time on LinkedIn. Wouldn’t tailor my social media to potential employers (not that I do). In fact, I think I’d get weirder. Embrace my individuality. Speak my mind more. And maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.

I’m putting in the work to achieve my dreams. I’m working on my third book nearly every day; I maintain a digital portfolio, a weekly newsletter, and a podcast. When my spirits are high, I can’t see how I won’t one day make it. Yet when I’m in my lower moods, I’m scared. I’m afraid of being in the same position in five, ten, twenty years.

Can’t there be a middle path? Satisfying work that takes the pressure off of making money from my passions? A vehicle that will joyfully take me to my destination?

I think so.

I wanna be a personal trainer for my day job. Training is the single most crucial component of my overall well-being. I know I’d love inspiring others to find that gratification from training as well. The only thing that’s held me back from trying already is fear.

I’m not qualified. I wouldn’t get clients. I’m not strong enough.

Fuck that. I’m done living in fear. We can do anything we want in life, and this is what I want. Let’s get after it then, ya? First thing’s first: get certified.

Outside are silhouettes of buildings, shadows in windows of people finishing their days. And here I am, one of them, living in this world of dreams, creation, potential. The flame flickers in my space. Low light, a pink sky, potential.

The birds are singing. Tea roars on the boil. This city makes me feel like I could do it. My big audacious dream? I’m called to make a magazine, to collaborate with a team to create something beautiful. I truly feel like I could do it here.

The potential is overwhelming. I think about what it would mean to be living my dream life. What would Monday look like? Post-day job era, I wouldn’t be anxious after the weekend. I’d be excited to get back to work.

In New York, it feels like life is cohesive. The inspiration, the fun, the work, the connecting — it all entwines as if sewing together the fabric of one harmonious life.

You make a connection when out at a show, realize that you’re alike, and decide to work on something together. You have a couple of beers with your friends on Tuesday night and are at the gym at 7 am. It’s not all or nothing — week or weekend, party or abstinence, hate your job or love it completely. It’s a dance, a flow. That’s what I’m striving for.

I won’t live a life where I hate what I do during the week and blow off steam on the weekends. I want things to be so good during the week that I can’t wait to get back to them on Monday. I want to run my own race, go to a show on a Thursday, work out and maybe get some work done on a Saturday, then go tech-free on Sunday. I wanna feel good, play sports, create, have fun, get weird, live.

On my dream Monday, I’ll come into the office where I work with six, eight, ten other like-minded individuals on a mission. We’re creatives. Dreamers. But we don’t just sit there and fantasize; we take the steps to make our vision a reality.

We’re not just grinding, either. We want to enjoy our lives, to live well while in the pursuit. Patience is key.

On this dream Monday, it’s raining outside the large glass windows of our creative studio. The space is cozy. Minimalist. It’s light, clean, filled with plants, aesthetically pleasing and peaceful.

We come in around 8 or 9 am and we chat about the weekend. I saw a dope show in Brooklyn. I went upstate to the woods. I took it easy. I saw some friends from out of town.

My dream is to build a magazine that’s beautiful in print. I’m feeling called to make it more than just a magazine, but a creative agency. I want to work with epic brands to help tell their stories.

Always Almost Home.

It’s a magazine — a real, print and digital, beautiful magazine.

It’s a creative agency.

What does it mean?

I grew up in LA, moved to San Diego, spent a summer working in Europe, then two and a half years as an English teacher in Japan. Most recently, I spent six months in Oakland, then was back in LA for three.

Now I’m in New York. It feels like I’m home. But will this be it forever? I have no fucking clue.

Always almost home is

Duality

Curiosity

Feeling grounded

Also restless

Inspired by the world

What’s out there?

What’s right here?

Every place I’ve lived in holds a special place in my heart. When you’re exposed to different sorts of people in a new environment, you have novel experiences that open up parts of you not yet excavated. In New York, I honestly feel like I’m on the same playing field as the artists that I see: creatives, musicians, cool people doing cool shit.

I feel like I could start something and bring people in who share my vision. It’s a breeding ground of magic, inspiration, and collaboration.

Each place I’ve lived has been a stepping stone to here. I have to be here now to get to where I’m ultimately meant to go.

Always Almost Home elucidates the stories of those contributing to the full breadth of this world; it’s those who feel an insatiable itch that says go, try, live.

It means that no matter where we call home, there’s another place we miss, a person out there who can’t be here, a slice of ourselves on the other side of the globe. But we make our home wherever we are, bringing everything we carry, the style we embody, the light we emit, and all that we’ve learned to create something distinct in the here and now.

If we never feel at home in the world, we make home inside ourselves.

Monday becomes my favorite day. I’m psyched to get back to creating. Psyched to be with such cool people. Psyched to be making money doing what I love. We’re a team of writers, designers, photographers, stylists, trend-setters, individuals.

It starts with a dream.

Each step on that road is the only one you know. And if you could just take care of what’s in front of you, learn, and enjoy what you’re doing, before you know it, you’ve built something.

We want things to happen now, but anything worth doing takes time.

So we don’t start because it’s daunting. Yet to the dreamer, each step along the way is the only step.

I’m tired of trying to be realistic. What if I don’t have to worry? What if I could sink into the sound of the birds outside and listen to them call; I close my eyes and imagine this scene of my dreams; I go there, live there, create it, and step into my destiny.

What if I’m already there.