Pipe Dream

I was just thinking about all the things I wanted to be as a child. Let me tell you, my dream was to over-achieve.

Besides wanting a pink poodle, pink car, and a pink house, I can distinctly remember several careers I wanted to have all at the same time. First, to be a basketball player. I probably realized early on this was never going to happen. I never played sports in high school, and have had the coordination of jello since I was about five. I also aspired to be like my hero, James Herriot. Not only was he a veterinarian, but he wrote and illustrated childrens books! For the love of Pete! This guy did it all! This alone would be no small task, but on top of it all, I wanted to be...a hairdresser. Yes, a hairdresser. I suppose when I got a little older, I'd have realized how much people paid to have their pets groomed and applied the hairdressing to the vet profession and viola! Occupation numero cinco! Talk about having a lot on your plate!

Finally, in second grade, I found my true calling: a mighty morphing power ranger! Try as I might, though, it turned out to be a really tough gig to get into. I began my search anew...

Then, as I grew up and became more practical, I fixated on becoming...the lead singer of a band. In fourth grade I tried to start a female singing group at recess called "Seven Cities." The concept (yes, in fourth grade I had a concept!) was that there would be seven girls in the band, and we'd each be a city. Oh, my young genius still amazes me! But by the end of one recess, nearly all twenty girls in my grade had signed on for stardom, and we weren't getting anything done. That's when I gave up on the industry. Besides, I knew we'd never be as good as the Spice Girls, and really, who'd want to compete?
Still, several years later I took a couple singing lessons, never getting very far. I was shy, and sensitive, and if recess rock band had taught me anything, the music industry was merciless.

Since then, though, I have had far less specific professional desires. All in due time, I suppose. For now I'll practice my grooming skills on my cat...it's always good to have a back-up plan...

Right of Blood

Okay. So, technically I haven't made any progress yet. But I will. This is only the second day, after all! I still have to lay down some ground work first, a little background...a foreward, if you will.

I've been reading this wonderful book by Michelle Goodman:

http://www.anti9to5guide.com/

It's been really helpful to me thus far, albeit I've only made it through the first chapter. Goodman suggests asking those closest to you (in my case friends and family), to tell you what it is they see you doing for a career. I e-mailed my friends, so check that off as done!

Also, she says you should brainstorm (this is a continuing process), and then research the professions you come up with. What is the job really like,  how do you get there, and what's the salary like? Then be honest: do you really see yourself doing this for (at least) several years?

I'm still mostly brainstorming. There's a lot out there, so this first step is no small task. Even with my friends helpful suggestions:

Elise: Move to Italy. Or, teach photography.

Allie: Make greeting cards using your photography and craft skills.

Ali: Teach art or do set designing for plays.

Kathi: Work in a grocery store (she was half kidding...I think), or something creative. (now, why didn't I think of that?)

Emily: Become a flight attendant. (I do love to travel! I even like airports!)

Mom: Be a photojournalist.

I think these are all amazing suggestions. Let's explore them, shall we?

Moving to Italy

I would absolutely love to! I studied abroad in Florence for four months and I fell madly in love- with Italy, not an Italian man (though, I wouldn't complain if I did!). I've done a little investigating, and I found that I am eligible for citizenship through a little thing called, jure sanguinis, or "right of blood." What?! I could actually apply and gain dual citizenship in Italy!? What am I still doing here?! Well, from what I have read, the U.S. isn't so keen on all that. They actually could take away my U.S. citizenship because I am actively seeking citizenship in a foreign country. Turns out that I am just not prepared to do that yet. I am, however, working on finding out just how true this is. Even if I were to successfully become an Italian citizen, what, I ask you, would I do for a job there? The song remains the same...but with slight language barrier.

Become an Art/Photography Teacher

This sounds viable. I, however, am not the most fond of children. Don't get me wrong- they can be extremely fun, rewarding, and certainly challenging! And how much more hands-on can you get than teaching art?! I taught photography this summer, so I already have some sort of teaching experience under my belt. I will admit, I really did come to like the kids a lot. Maybe it was because they liked me? Well, I'm sure it didn't hurt, that's for sure. Still, it was a very stressful job. You are responsible for these children and their well being. Half the time, it really just seemed like they weren't even listening. I know- if that surprises me, one must wonder if I ever was a kid myself. It was a great time, but I was really glad when it was over. I suppose, if nothing else, it was an exercise in patience, a muscle I really should take more time to strengthen. If you've ever driven with me, you will probably agree.

Making Greeting Cards

My cards are, among my friends and family, mildly famous. I always put my trademark "Disaster Inc." with the 'r' tipped over on the backside of every each one, complete with cyclone and airborne cow, nonchalantly moo-ing at it's plight. Most of these are rather ridiculous cards, and geared specifically to the individual for whom they're intended. They're also, quite often, badly drawn with half dead markers, giving them a sort of adorable charm, were they done by a 5-year-old. Since their creator is none other than 23-year-old me, they just look a little lazy.

I suppose, though, that I could work on that. And if I used my photography, well, so much the better.

Something still tells me that this is more a hobby, or would be, especially starting off. Unless Hallmark immediately recognizes my genius, buys out all my designs, and I'm set for life. This, I would not complain about in the least.

Set Designer

Yes and no. I'm a menace with power machinery, and, in fact, we may actually have a restraining order against each other. Painting is fun, but really not my strong suit. I did work in the theatre department in college, helping sew costumes, and as a co-head of the wardrobe crew. This I loved! It was a job (workstudy), but it never really felt like a job. Sure, I was never pleased when they scheduled me to work when I'd normally go to dinner with my friends, but that's minute at best. It was a joy. I met a lot of different people, and got a thrill out of working behind the scenes. This is absolutely something I would consider doing again.

Maybe I should contact my cousin's wife, also a Sarah. She works in television, and who knows, maybe she has a connection to...well, anything!

Flight Attendant

I 've actually considered this before. I love traveling; there's just something about getting inside a cylindrical conglomeration of metal and technology for a few hours, and then stepping down on new, foreign soil that I find enthralling! I even love airports themselves, which I feel is a rare quality.

I do realize that being a flight attendant, and not just a passenger, is not quite as romantic as I imagine. Not that being squished into a tiny seat by a not-so-tiny peson next you, and listening to that baby scream for 3 hours straight is so glamorous itself. But at least you can plug in your headphones and enjoy the musical stylings of you favorite artists on your ipod, or the feature film playing on the back of the headrest in front of you. As a passenger, you can sleep it all off or zone it all out.  Not so as a flight attendant. You are there for the passengers protection, should there be an emergency, and you are there to ensure their, at least mild, comfort: pillows, snacks, blankets and drinks. But who can resist the temptation of free or discounted flights??

Photojournalist

I may be journaling (blogging), but I'm not what you'd call a 'journalist.' I do love photography, street and documentary photography being my favorite sort. My mom thinks that I should be, even now, submitting work to National Geographic. While somewhat daunting, I do agree that I must start getting myself out there. Whether it be as photojournalist, freelancer, or flight attendant. I can't sit around here forever. Well, actually I can, and that's what's inevitably so frightening.

At any rate, I can see liking photojournalism...in general. I am sure that, just like in school, being given a topic, as opposed to choosing your own, will appeal to me less. But you always have to put in the grunt work if you ever expect to be able to throw your weight around. Though, quite frankly, the idea of being sent to devastated, war and disaster torn countries makes my eyes well up with tears. I don't know that I could stomach it, or have the courage to work were there is active combat. I can barely watch the news, hell- I can barely watch Law & Order: SVU anymore, without being seriously disturbed by what I am seeing. A quesy stomach usually doesn't make for a good photojournalist.

I know this is only one side to photojournalism, but it's what comes to mind first.

I have other ideas that I myself have brainstormed, but I think this entry is long enough for now.

So, until next time! Unless I win the lotto and become independently wealthy...hey, it could happen! Right?

Tempo al tempo! All in good time!

I have been sitting at this desk since...well, 8 am this morning, technically. With several bathroom breaks and an hour long lunch scattered throughout. I really mean, though, that I have been inhabiting this particular desk since the end of August. And before that? I have been sitting at a desk within this company (on school breaks, anyway) for nearly three years. I graduated from college this past spring, and after teaching photography at a summer camp, resumed working exactly where I am right...now.

I am a temp. I have performed several different functions at this company, none of which were altogether significant, other than the fact they needed to get done. After being trained on so many random tasks, and the fact that the company needs more permanent workers, it's been suggested I think about...transitioning. About...interviewing. About becoming permanent.

This would mean several things. Benefits, for one. I am not in any great need for beneifts, however. I'm covered under my mother's insurance for two more years. Still, I will need them at some point, so I still consider them a factor. I would also be chained to my phone, err, well, permanently. I am, admittedly, a bit of a phone phobic. Yes, I think it's terrible we as a people seem to generally hide behind technology for communication purposes. I would much rather text you a novel than pick up a phone to have that dreaded two second conversation. I do not understand my reasoning. Wait, let me rephrase, I know there is no logical reasoning behind my thought process. I accept that. And it's not that I flat-out refuse to use the phone. Part of my job now is to make outbound calls. I have gotten more accostumed to making calls, and as such I am a fraction less uncomfortable doing so. But, to have to plug an earpiece into my head every single day, 8am-5pm, with it constantly ringing, and those on the other end bombarding me with a heavy flow of difficult questions and/or complaints, sounds like Chinese water torture. It sounds like a slow, numbing, death is what it sounds like!

So, where were we? Ah, yes! Benefits. I hate phones. The people here are lovely- don't get me wrong! They have been so amazingly good to me! And I do thoroughly enjoy them all. I just want...more. I want to love, or to at least not despise, the job I am doing. I want to be active. This 40 hours a week, sittin' at a desk gig, just ain't doin' it for me. I want...I want...what do I want?

I guess...that I don't know. I'm an English-turned-art-major, fresh out of college. I dig photography, helping people, getting my blood pumping, and the creative wheels a-turnin'. But I need to eat. And I would like to move out of my parents house before I'm...we'll be generous and say, 28 years old (I'm giving myself 5 years, here). I have student loans, and car insurance payments that aren't going to go away on their own. Unfortunately. Okay, so maybe I can cut back a little on the eating thing. They didn't pull "starving artist" out of thin air, y'know. Thin artists, yes. Air, no.

So what is the point of all of this? I want to find my dream job. Or one of 'em, at least (I have a lot of dreams). How ever, in a lot of ways that's "easier said than done" or:

"Tra il dire e il fare, c'è di mezzo il mare."

Between saying and doing, lies the sea. I like to think of myself as the sea. In this case, though the economy isn't thriving, perhaps, and there are a lot of steps between finding a job that you enjoy and can live off of, and then getting that job or something like it, I feel that I am largely what's between me and getting that dream realized. I have been thus far. I have been sitting on my tuchus, twiddling my thumbs, letting it all just...be. "Hey, Status Quo! Just keep statusin' and quoin' okay? Thanks, I really appreciate it, buddy!" No, I need to get up, dust off the cheese puff crumbs, do some research, get myself out there, and sell, sell, sell! Do not get discouraged, me! It will not happen all at once, or  in a particularly timely manner! Do not lose your fire and determination! Capiesh??

Capiesh. I'm hoping, in fact, that this here lil' blogapotomus, will help keep me focused on the task at hand. If I fail at updating this with my progress, that means there isn't any progress. If there isn't any progress, then here exists proof of my glaring, shameful, blemish of a failure! Which I hope will serve as motivation, more than just a mock worthy swing-and-a-miss.

Cross your fingers for me. I would, but google searches go a lot easier if you have all your fingers for typing...