I'll listen.
Twentysixyears.blogspot.com is really a misnomer, isn't it. I'm no longer 26. Let's get down to it. I'm 27. And 27 means it's time to think about my hopes and dreams in a very mature, methodical way.
Like: What do you want do for a living? Like that.
When I was a youngster, an adorable blond-headed precious young child, I stumbled across writing in an English class and never looked back. I proudly announced to my parents that I would be a writer and they were so happy about that, more so than they were about my whimsical cranberry-farming scheme, that I figured I must have hit the goldmine.
Well, a goldmine, in the financial sense, it is not, but at a career expo today I did have a rendezvous with that part of me. That part that, you know, got it. The part that seems to, of late, have been suffocated by the wedding-planning, email-checking, looking-for-something-better part.
You see, I don't have any particular interests besides writing. And reading of course ("Interests: reading, writing..."). I tried. I got into horses, which led to a couple ribbons and some really pathetic diary entries from the pre-adolescent years in which I wanted to become a good horseback rider and also wanted to experience my first-ever kiss with a dual intensity unlike any I've seen since. I was a pretty good French student, but my desire to become fluent in any language since has been limited to fleeting moments when I can't get what I want ("Red wine per favore...?"). And you're not going to believe this, but I'm a damn good actress. Not award winning or anything but in college my Acting for Non-Majors class did a performance at the end of the year and I heard my friends oohs and aahs as I flaunted my skills. Damn good. But not ready to trot on out to Hollywood at this point. Too much competition.
The only thing I've really kept up with, for all my life, is that I like people to tell me about what they do. Be it their job, or their passion for herding cattle. I used to think I was impressionable. And don't get me wrong, I am. But it's more than that. When someone tells me about chiropractic adjustments, I'm pretty much sold. Accupunture? Sounds good. Avian Influenza? I'm terrified. Growing marsh plants, managing corporate offices, making really excellent cookies. You name it. I can't help but be enthralled, and I've decided that that's where my talents lie.
Luckily this line of work, in whatever form I choose to pursue it, fosters my interest in people - and their interests.
Today, at the career expo, I spent a good long while learning about types of wood from a guy I've known for the two years I've worked here. He's got a sawmill and showed me about six kinds he'd cut himself, naming their properties, right down to why the woodpeckers like pecan.
I won't get into it myself, the wood, but I'm glad he has. And when I write my book, I'll dedicate it to all the people in the world, all the interesting people, and I'll be thankful that I got over the horses, but, I mean, if someone offered me a role in an off-Broadway musical, well, I'd still be a little tempted to say yes.
Like: What do you want do for a living? Like that.
When I was a youngster, an adorable blond-headed precious young child, I stumbled across writing in an English class and never looked back. I proudly announced to my parents that I would be a writer and they were so happy about that, more so than they were about my whimsical cranberry-farming scheme, that I figured I must have hit the goldmine.
Well, a goldmine, in the financial sense, it is not, but at a career expo today I did have a rendezvous with that part of me. That part that, you know, got it. The part that seems to, of late, have been suffocated by the wedding-planning, email-checking, looking-for-something-better part.
You see, I don't have any particular interests besides writing. And reading of course ("Interests: reading, writing..."). I tried. I got into horses, which led to a couple ribbons and some really pathetic diary entries from the pre-adolescent years in which I wanted to become a good horseback rider and also wanted to experience my first-ever kiss with a dual intensity unlike any I've seen since. I was a pretty good French student, but my desire to become fluent in any language since has been limited to fleeting moments when I can't get what I want ("Red wine per favore...?"). And you're not going to believe this, but I'm a damn good actress. Not award winning or anything but in college my Acting for Non-Majors class did a performance at the end of the year and I heard my friends oohs and aahs as I flaunted my skills. Damn good. But not ready to trot on out to Hollywood at this point. Too much competition.
The only thing I've really kept up with, for all my life, is that I like people to tell me about what they do. Be it their job, or their passion for herding cattle. I used to think I was impressionable. And don't get me wrong, I am. But it's more than that. When someone tells me about chiropractic adjustments, I'm pretty much sold. Accupunture? Sounds good. Avian Influenza? I'm terrified. Growing marsh plants, managing corporate offices, making really excellent cookies. You name it. I can't help but be enthralled, and I've decided that that's where my talents lie.
Luckily this line of work, in whatever form I choose to pursue it, fosters my interest in people - and their interests.
Today, at the career expo, I spent a good long while learning about types of wood from a guy I've known for the two years I've worked here. He's got a sawmill and showed me about six kinds he'd cut himself, naming their properties, right down to why the woodpeckers like pecan.
I won't get into it myself, the wood, but I'm glad he has. And when I write my book, I'll dedicate it to all the people in the world, all the interesting people, and I'll be thankful that I got over the horses, but, I mean, if someone offered me a role in an off-Broadway musical, well, I'd still be a little tempted to say yes.
posted by Cara Maria McDonough at 11:21 AM
4 Comments:
George Plimpton carried this type of thinking to an artform before Hunter S. Thompson kind of hijacked it in his own way.
wait...woodpeckers like pecan?
Funny...I get "what do I want to be when I grow up" about once a day and it lasts a year. ;)
e
I'm a recent Cara blogger addict and wouldn't miss your blog for the world...In reference to your questions about "what do I want to be when I grow up"... you ARE a writer and it definitely shows...always do something you love!
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