Good morning, Readers!
Image courtesy of bigthink.com. Click for link.
So, this morning I was thinking.
I know. Shocking.
But I was thinking about my life. You see, when I was a youngin', I imagined my future as all youngin's tend to. I wanted to fly AF-18s as a young teen. When I realised that I'd fail in the military (I apparently have an issue with obeying orders without knowing why whatever I'm ordered to do must be done), I decided that maybe I'd be an attorney - a really kick-arse prosecution attorney.
Of all the things I imagined myself to be, a writer simply was not one of them. I mean, I had always written, and I read voraciously, I just didn't think it was any kind of career to aspire to.
Now, as an adult, and a writer. I find myself contemplating a different life.
Only, here's the thing, despite all my years of world-building in which practically anything is possible, I simply cannot imagine having a different life. At least, I cannot imagine having a different life and being happy.
What might I be doing now, if I hadn't set my heart on making a career of my writing?
A kick-arse attorney? Probably, actually. I'd be busting balls all over the courtroom. I can be pretty aggressive and extremely competitive sometimes. It's not a trait I particularly foster in this life, but sure as hell I'd feed those wolves if my career demanded it.
In that life, however, I also see myself alone and lonely. Not for lack of friends, mind you, but for the things I'd have to repress to have those friends. No flights of fancy. No confessions of how much I would love to try LARPing. No unabashed, sparkly-eyed gushing over fantastic worlds and characters...
Now I have absolutely no doubt that amongst this fictitious group of friends, there would be people who love these things, even participate in them (as there must be in real life). Judging, however, on how I felt growing up - alone and isolated in my love for all things so incredibly nerdy - I'm fairly certain that I would not be willing to talk about it openly, if I was a ball-busting prosecution attorney. I would have a reputation to maintain. That reputation would be all straight lines and sharp angles, no space for softer curves or bizarre shapes.
With my current group of friends, I can confess my weirdness and not feel in the least bit judged. My current circle of friends are the same kind of weird!
And what would my inner life be like? Would I have kept on writing if I'm up late studying writs and torts and crime scene evidence? Likely not. There would be nowhere for all the stories and characters, deeds and worlds in my head to go. They'd all be up there, screaming like mad, but squashed down and repressed in an attempt to silence them so I could get some work done.
I'd probably land in a nuthouse, to be honest. Half the reason I write is to shut my brain up for two seconds...
And here is a very depressing thought: had I chosen not to pursue this writing thing, I likely wouldn't have the friends I do now. I'd have made different friends in university; friends more interested in law and criminal studies than elves and prose and make-believe. I would not have gone to conventions that led to the friendships I have now. I'd have friends, I don't doubt, but not these friends. The mere thought of not knowing these people makes me sad.
Might I have met someone and married them by now in this other life? Probably. But then, I placed greater importance on this when I was younger and imagining my life as an attorney. Now, I just don't care enough about it to make it a priority. I mean, if I meet someone I reckon I could live with for more than five minutes, great! But it's not a goal for me in this life, and so it's just not something I work towards. In my other life? Well, since it was part of my life plan, then I'd have tracked that sucker and pinned him down!
This is a really long, ramblely way of saying that my life is not where I thought it would be, and that's the best thing possible. In this life, I'm fulfilled. Sure it's not all sunshine and roses. I'm poor, and likely will be for a little while yet. I'm unmarried and not dating (thought honestly the worst thing about that is putting up with other people's judgement). I'm not selling all that well. There have been many breakdowns and tearful fits.
Still, I feel like I'm in the right place, doing the right work for me, surrounded by the most amazing people I could possibly be.
Any other life is totally inconceivable.
I know. Shocking.
But I was thinking about my life. You see, when I was a youngin', I imagined my future as all youngin's tend to. I wanted to fly AF-18s as a young teen. When I realised that I'd fail in the military (I apparently have an issue with obeying orders without knowing why whatever I'm ordered to do must be done), I decided that maybe I'd be an attorney - a really kick-arse prosecution attorney.
Of all the things I imagined myself to be, a writer simply was not one of them. I mean, I had always written, and I read voraciously, I just didn't think it was any kind of career to aspire to.
Now, as an adult, and a writer. I find myself contemplating a different life.
Only, here's the thing, despite all my years of world-building in which practically anything is possible, I simply cannot imagine having a different life. At least, I cannot imagine having a different life and being happy.
What might I be doing now, if I hadn't set my heart on making a career of my writing?
A kick-arse attorney? Probably, actually. I'd be busting balls all over the courtroom. I can be pretty aggressive and extremely competitive sometimes. It's not a trait I particularly foster in this life, but sure as hell I'd feed those wolves if my career demanded it.
In that life, however, I also see myself alone and lonely. Not for lack of friends, mind you, but for the things I'd have to repress to have those friends. No flights of fancy. No confessions of how much I would love to try LARPing. No unabashed, sparkly-eyed gushing over fantastic worlds and characters...
Now I have absolutely no doubt that amongst this fictitious group of friends, there would be people who love these things, even participate in them (as there must be in real life). Judging, however, on how I felt growing up - alone and isolated in my love for all things so incredibly nerdy - I'm fairly certain that I would not be willing to talk about it openly, if I was a ball-busting prosecution attorney. I would have a reputation to maintain. That reputation would be all straight lines and sharp angles, no space for softer curves or bizarre shapes.
With my current group of friends, I can confess my weirdness and not feel in the least bit judged. My current circle of friends are the same kind of weird!
And what would my inner life be like? Would I have kept on writing if I'm up late studying writs and torts and crime scene evidence? Likely not. There would be nowhere for all the stories and characters, deeds and worlds in my head to go. They'd all be up there, screaming like mad, but squashed down and repressed in an attempt to silence them so I could get some work done.
I'd probably land in a nuthouse, to be honest. Half the reason I write is to shut my brain up for two seconds...
And here is a very depressing thought: had I chosen not to pursue this writing thing, I likely wouldn't have the friends I do now. I'd have made different friends in university; friends more interested in law and criminal studies than elves and prose and make-believe. I would not have gone to conventions that led to the friendships I have now. I'd have friends, I don't doubt, but not these friends. The mere thought of not knowing these people makes me sad.
Might I have met someone and married them by now in this other life? Probably. But then, I placed greater importance on this when I was younger and imagining my life as an attorney. Now, I just don't care enough about it to make it a priority. I mean, if I meet someone I reckon I could live with for more than five minutes, great! But it's not a goal for me in this life, and so it's just not something I work towards. In my other life? Well, since it was part of my life plan, then I'd have tracked that sucker and pinned him down!
This is a really long, ramblely way of saying that my life is not where I thought it would be, and that's the best thing possible. In this life, I'm fulfilled. Sure it's not all sunshine and roses. I'm poor, and likely will be for a little while yet. I'm unmarried and not dating (thought honestly the worst thing about that is putting up with other people's judgement). I'm not selling all that well. There have been many breakdowns and tearful fits.
Still, I feel like I'm in the right place, doing the right work for me, surrounded by the most amazing people I could possibly be.
Any other life is totally inconceivable.
What about you? Are you where you thought you would be? More importantly, are you happy here?
Ciao!
Ciao!
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