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Well Then....
I'm in a rambling mood again. So feel free to ignore. None of this is important at all. Just me...thinking with my fingers.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a doctor and a bulldozer driver. My parents were amused, mostly because I was not even five yet. They thought I might be a mechanical engineer of some sort, too, as I would always ask questions like, "How do boats go?" and "Why does that man have a car-truck?"
Now that I'm partially grown (if that can even be said with any accuracy whatsoever), I find that I will willingly forgo the career in order to have time for the passion.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a doctor and a bulldozer driver. My parents were amused, mostly because I was not even five yet. They thought I might be a mechanical engineer of some sort, too, as I would always ask questions like, "How do boats go?" and "Why does that man have a car-truck?"
I also have wanted to be a veterinarian, a hairdresser, an astronaut, and a teacher.
Now that I'm partially grown (if that can even be said with any accuracy whatsoever), I find that I will willingly forgo the career in order to have time for the passion.
I, rather unexpectedly, I think, grew up with a strong artistic streak and a knack for using language. I was born to an antique dealer and a nurse, and I find the combination of my parents occupations such obvious forbears of my nature. For what do poets and actresses deal with, if not history and the human condition? My parents encouraged me, and still do to this day, always reading what I write and doing my chores so that I have time to pen entries to (relatively meaningless) fan fiction competitions. They've shuttled me to spoken-word competitions at nearby coffee houses when I wrote romantic pieces about opium addicts and masochism. They came to every performance I've ever been in, sometimes twice, and cheered me on happily. They've taught me some of their craft, and have spent hours listening to me talk of mine.
They also told me to do what makes me happy and to always strive to be the best at what I do. If that means that I must suffer menial labor in order to make enough money to survive, so be it. But if I'm to be a janitor, I must try to be the best janitor that ever was. I try to live by this, every day. I fail at times. I make foolish decisions. I'm still learning.
My parents are relatively uneducated. My father never completed his Associate's degree and my mother only finished two years of nursing school (as was required at the time). Despite this, they are some of the wisest people I know. In some things, anyway. I like to think, on occasion, that I make them proud. They tell me often that I do, but I find praise a difficult thing to accept.
When I was in 6th grade (about...eleven at the time, I suppose), I was told by my "language arts" instructor that, essentially, I shouldn't bother writing. I had a vivid imagination, she promised, but no eye for literature. Years later, I ran into her again after a poetry event and she told me that she hoped I was still writing because I was really quite wonderful. She is the one person in my life who has so utterly confounded me. And she also frequently had lipstick on her teeth. My parents always told me not to listen to her.
Aside from her, though, my teachers and professors have been wonderfully supportive of my endeavors. They've given me room to breathe in the classroom, room to grow and spread my wings and all of that stuff we always hear talked about but never actually see. I was always a peculiar child; frightfully optimistic and yet, refreshingly dark. For a book report in high school, I read Titus Andronicus by Shakespeare. My project consisted of a Barbie doll whose hands I've chopped off stuck on a Corinthian column. I painted the doll's mouth and arm-stubs bright red and scattered dead rose petals on the white satin base. It still sits prominently in my teacher's classroom, eight years later. I also made an Oscar Wilde doll out of wire and steel wool that sits right next to my deformed Barbie. I think I've been lucky to have such...understanding adults in my childhood, for I was a difficult study.
Of my friends and coworkers, only wonderful things can be said. They all know I write fan fiction, and go out of their way to ask how my various competition pieces are going. Despite my idiosyncrasies, they stand by me at all times and have no qualms with me being myself. In fact, I often find myself puzzled at the idea of modern-day oppression in the work place, or at schools. I know it exists, of course, but it just doesn't jive with what I've experienced. We often focus on the negative people and places, but there are so many lovely and accepting people out there who go unnoticed their whole lives.
And now I have a job - no, an entry into a career, if I so choose. I have all of the things I need, friends and companions who care for me, a family who stands by me no matter what, and a whole host of opportunities in front of me just ready for me to take hold of them.
All of these wonderful things lead my to the observation that I am a very lucky and well-loved individual. So why do I feel so damn unfulfilled all of the time?
(And also, this wasn't where I had intended to end up. But here I am?)
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I do find myself thinking the same thing all the time though. I have a good job, I have things I love to do, I'm married to this great guy who accepts all of those weird things I love to do and... Yeah, I'm still pretty unfulfilled myself. Huh. That's not encouraging at all, is it? XD;;;
ANYWAY. *shuts up* :P I think for you, in your case, you should absolutely keep following the path you're on, because I think it's a really great one. <333 And I think you should feel good about it, and proud of yourself and... just work on accepting the praise of your parents and everyone around you, you know? Because you deserve it, really! <3
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Part of me feels like...this is a good thing, in a way? Because it is what will make us successful or interesting, in that we're always searching for that fulfillment. (This may just be wishful thinking).
And it IS encouraging to know that I'm not the only one - but I feel bad that you feel that way, too. If that makes ANY sense.
And thanks. :) <3
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