It's a great morning. The girls are watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood via several technological advances (tablet, Fire Stick, Internet, TV...nothing is simple anymore, is it?). I've done my morning warm-up, I have coffee, and, most exciting, I have a new laptop! I can type again! Gosh I've missed having an actual keyboard. Not that I do all that much blogging anymore, but there is something intrinsically therapeutic to me about a keyboard. All the click, click, click. I used to play with my momma's typewriter - wishing desperately I both knew how to type and had something to say.
I've seemed to pick up lately on stories where people say, "from the time I was a little kid, I just knew it's what I wanted to do...". The kid who made costumes for his GI Joe dolls and grew up to costume Broadway. The woman who knew she wanted to be a scientist. I've found myself wondering, "What was that thing for me?" and I keep coming up blank - I used to say I wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. I think I just said that because I thought they made a lot of money, though. I'd love to help people and fix people the way doctors do, but I couldn't be less interested in the idea of 13 years of college, hundreds of thousands in loans, and literally holding someone's life in my hands. Nope. I need a bit less stress, please and thanks. And lawyers - I know and have worked for too many for that to have come to fruition. I just like to argue. I hate to research, unless it's something I'm interested in, like Mormons or pregnancy. I'm not down with student loans. I'll never be a lawyer. But just now, remembering Mom's old electronic typewriter - that brings back childhood passion. (I also have a desperate love of office supplies that's been cultivated from a young age, which I guess sort of fits, because except for those few retail jaunts early on and in the middle after city moves, I have always had office jobs.) Writing, though. I love writing. I've always loved to write - to type, specifically. And if I could ever get the hang of dictating (words, not countries), I think I'd love that just as much. Getting the thoughts out of my mind and onto paper in a way that makes another person read it and say, "I know exactly what you mean here and it makes me feel exactly the way you meant for me to feel" - there's not much better in the world to my heart.
Hmm. That feels like an epiphany of some sort. I should probably do something with this realization, huh? Maybe I will.
When you were little, what did you dream you'd grow up to do? Are you doing it? Do you still want to do it? Now what do you want to be when you grow up? What are you doing to make that happen?