I've been thinking about this post for weeks. And instead of writing it up all nice and pretty, taking time to choose my words carefully, and editing the shit out of it, I've decided to go with the "stream of consciousness, mental vomit, incoherent rambling" approach. You're welcome.
I've had this conversation with a few people, but need to really get it out there, and you know, then maybe it will become real. Or not. At least it's cathartic.
I decided, a couple of weeks ago, that this will be the year where I figure out what I want to do when I grow up. Let's take it back, all the way to 1996. My high school, bless it's little heart, didn't have any form of career counseling/planning program. We had one teacher who helped with scheduling ACT and SAT exams, college applications, and the most basic of advice on first year expectations, among her many other duties. I never took any sort of quiz that told me what I'd be good at, or what I'd enjoy. So, I went with what I'd been told from a young age: "You'd make a great lawyer." OK. Sure, what the hell. I get into my senior year of college, more than well on my way to a degree in Criminal Justice, with a focus on pre-law studies and very nearly a minor in psychology, and decide that I definitely do not want to be a lawyer. Maybe a cop, but not a lawyer.
In the meantime, I get a job, part time, making what I think at the time is a shit ton of money. I graduate, get promoted a couple of times, and all of a sudden I'm getting a 5-year watch and wondering what the fuck I was doing. I starting thinking about what I like to do. What I enjoy that I could make a living doing. I cook. It's something I enjoy; how I wind down after a shitty day. I think about culinary school, and formulate what are, at best, flimsy plans of looking into it. I realize after awhile that I can't take the pay cut, go into more debt, and risk making what I love to do something I have to do. Back to square one, except now it's been eight and a half years and I'm staring down the barrel of being 30. Shit.
I've been at the same job for a long time, a very long time considering my age. I'm good at what I do. But most of my time is spent attempting to refrain from sardonic tirades, thinly veiled contemptuous remarks, and jumping out a window. I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I'm reasonably sure it isn't this. The thought of working my way up to a powerful position sounded good on the surface, but now it kind of turns my stomach. Would I love to have a fuckton of money? Sure. But the kind of money I'm thinking about (you know, fuck-you money) comes from running a multi-national company (doesn't it?). And the reality is, I'm probably too lazy and don't possess the drive to make that a reality, especially without having been well on my way in my early 20s.
But I digress. Back to my point. I don't know what I want to do. I've always thought I'd be happy doing anything, as long as I was good at it, but now I'm not entirely sure that's the case. I also realize, soberingly, that I may very well be on the path that will be my "career". Somewhere in my head I can come to grips with that, but only after really investigating the other options. That's the plan - see if there is something I can earn money doing that I enjoy and actually find rewarding, or resign myself to a career in an office and find enjoyment outside of my job. While I'm not a fan of the latter, it's probably the best option for making quite a bit of money and being able to afford all the ridiculous things I want to experience before I die.
Oh, first world problems...
