It is fair to say that I have become very disenchanted with my career, or rather, disenchanted with putting a career first and foremost at all. In the past few months, this thought has been creeping into my head, but I’ve always brushed it away thinking that it was nonsense. What reason would I be disenchanted when I haven’t begun at all? Then again, a stronger inkling would say, “Is it really that important?”

And I guess, now I’ve resigned to thinking that it isn’t that important at all.

In the past few months, weeks, days, and minutes leading up to Annabelle’s wedding, I’ve immersed myself completely into helping her prepare for it: Shopping for décor, shopping for gifts, putting together the wedding favor, planning the bridal shower, getting our eyebrows done, planning the surprise flash mob (which, I’m happy to say, she says was her favorite part of the wedding). I enjoyed every minute of it, even in the days when I felt overwhelmed by the amount of things we had to do.

It was in the middle of this wedding fever that I realized it’s ok that I’m disenchanted with my career, and that it’s ok to embrace this feeling rather than pushing it away. What became more important to me were the people who I was around, the people I could help, and the people I decide are important to me.

Last night marked the end of my classes.  I left class feeling meh, and walked away from my friends deciding I would celebrate quietly by buying tea at Tim Hortons by myself. It was one of those moments when I couldn’t help but think, “So, now what?”

(Tangent: People are often confused when they realized I’m still taking a class. The answer is yes, I am, and it’s been the biggest struggle. In the midst of assignments and tests, I’ve been helping Annabelle for her wedding, planning the bridal shower, planning lesson plans for my practicum, working, and who knows what else.)

Deep in my thoughts, I almost walked passed someone who ‘seemed’ homeless, asking me for change. As usual, I made sure to reply, “Sorry”.

But then he asked, “Can you buy me dinner?”

I stopped in my tracks. I’ve never been asked by someone who ‘seemed’ homeless to buy him dinner before.

So I asked, “Sure, what do you want?”

“Can you buy me that chicken sandwich?”

“Do you want a drink with that?”

“I already have coffee. How about water?”

“Ok, I’ll go get you something.”

Then he added, “Can you get chili with that?”

I wasn’t sure if hew as changing his order, or if he was asking me to buy him two different things. But I wasn’t about to get him both. When I came back outside with his chili I noticed that he had what seemed to be an iphone/ipod headphones on, which meant that he might not have been homeless! I had been duped.

We exchanged names, shook hands, and as I walked away, he pulled out a small flute. This seemingly homeless man might have just been a subway musician.

I didn’t let it get to me. I let it go thinking, “Well God, it’s not my place to judge whether he could have afforded the meal himself or not, or whether he’s actually homeless or not. I did what he requested of me, and that’s that.”

Anyway, I told my friends what happened. One of them told me it was my destiny to run into this guy (jokingly. This is her way making sense of things).  And my other friend told me that I should have been more mad for being duped.

One of my fondest memory of going to Istanbul with Tabitha and Selina was that one morning when we had our coffee fortunes read by a friend we made. He made some tall claims, but despite that, I often think back to my coffee fortune.

“You’ll be able to get what you want,” He said peering into my cup. “Because you’re lucky.”

I don’t know what I want yet. When I figure it out, at least I know I'll have luck on my side.