Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Musings About My Future Career

I don't really know what I want to do when I grow up, "grow up" being a relative term. I wish I could afford to be a student all my life, have nothing hanging on the grades or the homework, and really just hang out with professors and study and research and learn things that I find interesting. Good heavens, perhaps I ought to be a professor. Then again, I couldn't well stand to teach, and I hear that part is important.

I say I want to be a writer. I think I want to be a writer. But I do not know. I feel as though I may be one of those people for whom a career is only a side piece of my life, and is not my life; for a writer that is probably a good quality. What life experience belongs to the one whose entire life is writing, and of what shall anyone write except the experiences of his or her life?

Perhaps I shall fund my life experiences with the money I get from my writing. That would be working for a living, certainly. But how shall I begin? Is this why writers are poor, or waitresses? This is why I am not majoring in Literature. I do, in fact, have other useful and technical skills; I simply do not wish to use them for the remainder of my potentially long life.

I do want to be intelligent, and wise. I have some men I might call heroes; I want in some ways to be like them. They say if you want to be a millionaire, you must hang out with millionaires. Perhaps if I read their works, it will be like hanging out like them. I am currently reading a copy of some diary of Edison that I found in the electrical engineering section of UCF's library, as well as That Hideous Strength, the third book in C. S. Lewis's Space Trilogy. If I keep it up, this hanging out with men by reading the books of men, perhaps I, too, will share their intelligence and wit.

Alternatively, I might simply turn into a book.

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