When I was a kid, I had all sorts of big dreams for my life as an adult: concert pianist, Olympic gymnast, oh yes, and zookeeper. I really wanted to be a zookeeper from about age 6 - 8. Wouldn't you rather be a veterinarian, honey? No thanks. Zoo. Keeper.
I've always loved writing and I have always written stories and poetry. My father constantly told me I'd be a writer. Yeah, whatever dad. Who would want to read my dumb stuff? But for a great long while, I wanted to be a journalist. A White House or war correspondent, specifically. I had a crush on Sam Donaldson, which, I know, is weird. Maybe it was the eyebrows. At 16, I was a news junkie. (Still am.) I took journalism classes, wrote for the high school paper, and joined the yearbook staff. I dreamed of going to J-school at Mizzou.
I ended up going to Mizzou, but went pre-med instead. Why did I forget about journalism? I don't even remember. I lost focus, I guess. Pre-med didn't go well. Organic chemistry challenged my already-shaky resolve to become a doctor, and I ended up an English major. It was so the right place for me. Talking about literature and taking creative writing classes? Perfect.
At 16, I would never have guessed I'd have a career in advertising and then leave it behind to become a stay at home mommy. Never in a billion years. I didn't even like kids! And as much as I hate to admit it, my dad was right all along. After all these twists and changes, I really am happiest when I write. And it just so happens that there are a few people who want to read my dumb stuff. Hopefully many more.
As for journalism, I still kind of have a thing for Christane Amanpour. Guess I'll have to be satisfied with that.
How about you? Are you living your dream, or did you find another?