What do you want to be...

when you grow-up?

After seven years, a leap was taken. Notice given. May 27th marks the last day serving. 


Walking to get a coffee and write a bit, my fingers found their way strolling through past words written. Words from a year ago, this is what was found: 





5-3-2011
Recently I was sent an e-mail. Attached was a preview for a movie Pause, Press, Play. I can't really say why the last few words, "this changes everything, the industry's dead," inspired thoughts for writing today, but with the recession we're all in at the moment, and my continuing three year search for a career, I find myself truly asking: "What do I want to be when I grow-up?"


Having recently celebrated my 32nd birthday some may find this question funny. Haven't I grown-up already? But I'm realizing more and more, we are always growing-up, and this is a question one never stops asking. Whether you're in elementary school, graduating high school or college, or near the process of retirement, the question remains.


So what do I want to be when I grow-up? A lot of the work I have been thinking of lately is my own. Pause, press on, play. It's my future and my past combined.


When I was seven, I wanted to be a writer. I remember my Mom coming into my second grade class to read a story she had written (one I hope she will submit soon). I found story fascinating--and still do as those who know me are bombarded with my ramblings on the subject everyday.


When I was eight, my idea changed all because of a puppy from Santa on Christmas day. I wanted to be  a Vet. I thought it would be all "fun and games" playing with all types of animals. Then when I was 10, my Dad got me a Veterinary Dictionary for Christmas. It wasn't one of those little kid ones, but the college level type that gave the Latin names for all the diseases animals could possibly have. This for some reason moved my desire to a new realm (o.k. lets face it, the dictionary overwhelmed me, and I realized pets might not be that cute and cuddly when disease ridden).


So I turned my sights to be an artist. This ambition was short lived as I realized, though I could draw--I didn't draw well. 11 and 12 my sights were on Olympic swimmer, amazing Rock Singer, or Journalist. Obviously, this was my pre-teen years and my mind was getting jumbled by the on coming hormones. 


Which gives reason for 13 and 14 being a bit blurred on what I wanted to be when I grew-up. I do believe my sights were more fascinated with boys (as seems to be the case still, though I pretend I manage it better now) than on my own dreams and desires of self achievement.


At 15, I went back to science, but I Incorporated the pool, thinking I would be a Marine Biologist (I mean come on, who didn't). Even my job aptitude test told me I would be great at this profession. Though I don't think it took into account I lived in a desert.


16-18: I was going to be (and was) an entrepreneur. Business licence purchased, I promoted rock concerts in the rural south-eastern corner of the "L" shaped Utah state. This was my focus for years, it was the direction for my early college education, and then I turned 20 and I was back to books. I wanted to be a writer, but added the possibility of editor of children's and young adult literature.


At 25, college grad, a book slinger, and ambition still driving my forces, I went back to school for a second degree. And then I found myself 30 and confused, because I still hadn't grown-up and somehow all that questioning of what I wanted to be when I grew-up had made me a master beer slinger. Lost. 


And now at 32, smack dab in a recession, options and opportunity abound. So here's the dream at the moment: submit writing to publishers, examine the entrepreneur projects you've been thinking of for years now, meet with colleges and see if they want a quirky-fun-and enthusiastic woman as an adjunct professor in children's and YA literature, and begin the process of submitting for PhD candidacy.


It seems like a long road travelled to get here, and I find it funny that at age six I knew writing would be the crux, story the glue. Sometimes we just have to remember that our young selves knew us better than we thought. They weren't confused by all the crazy distractions the years bring. They saw open doors, unlike our adult selves shutting and locking us in.


So maybe the question isn't ,"What do you want to be when you grow-up?" Maybe the question needs to be, "Who did you want to be when you were young?"

And now, a year later after writing these words--33--I'm back to my six year old self. That girl who took gymnastics and tumbled and leaped to her hearts content whenever she heard a story. It's a balancing act, doing what you love and working to survive. But I leapt. I'm taking the risk on myself with the hope that I can write the net that will catch me.