Every once in a while, I’ll be curled up on the sofa with a textbook and a strange and wonderful idea will pop into my head. I really need to open a shop that sells t-shirts with purposely obscure wording! Yeah! Maybe I’ll also sell book bags and long beaded necklaces! Yeah! I’ll be the ultra cool owner with heavily pierced employees. Two hours later, I’ll come to my senses and realize that I only do work that brings in few to zero dollars. That’s what I do. That’s what my dad does. That’s our family tradition. I periodically have these moments of demonic entrepreneurialism.

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