On my desk, perched next to the lamp and beside the personal business cards, a raven sits. It’s not a fancy statue, and it’s not full of elaborate feathering and design. It’s just an all-black raven, that I’m pretty sure Alex bought for me from Target once a long time ago. The fact that it’s not a fancy or incredibly intricate design is part of what makes it special; I like to think the raven is simple and clean, a reminder of my English literature days and my ambitions toward becoming a college professor one day. It reminds me of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, of course, but it also reminds me that I can’t give up on who I used to be, or who I want to be today. There is more out there for me to do, and the raven is there as if to say, you better make sure you’re doing everything you can to achieve your dreams.
This might all sound ridiculous, and it probably does, but sometimes small tokens have large meanings, sometimes unintentionally. They just acquire those meanings over time.
Recently, I moved the raven closer to my desk, so it serves as a more obvious reminder to me. That way I don’t forget it as frequently. It’s always there, and I’ll always remember its presence. I like to think that the raven wanted to come closer because it noticed I was losing my way a bit. Alex and I had talked about that a few times, just about how I need to focus more on my professional ambitions and not lose my way on who I want to be, whoever that is. I don’t know what it is currently, but I know that I need to get there sooner or later, whatever it takes.