Childhood dreams and cat-hotels.

Location of cat: in my lap.

In my previous post I made you all the unfortunate victim of my bitter-un-employed-I-want- my-dream-job-rant, and I fear this post will not deviate much from that path. I am in a grove, as it were, or perhaps it is more accurate to describe it as a ditch.

I was always been a pragmatic child and never harbored dreams of becoming a dinosaur (like Calvin), a princess, or joining the Ninja Turtles Team and as a little pig-tailed girl I had many plans for how I would shape my adult-hood.
At first I dearly wanted to be a policewoman, though I imagine this stems from the kindergarten trend where we –all- wanted to be a policeman (or firefighter) and drive a car with a siren. A few years later I was determined to be a concert flutist (despite never having touched a flute in my life), a private detective, and for several years I also nursed a desire to be a vet, because I’ve always had a fondness for animals. (When we got our first cat when I was around seven years old, I felt that all as right in the world).

As I entered Junior High I was determined to be a lawyer, just because it seemed the prestigious thing to be and because I felt it was important to have high aspirations. Sometime shortly after I realized how much paper-work was involved in the legal quern, I declared my intentions of running a cat-hotel in my grandmother’s barn (and this may still be my plan)

To be quite honest, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do from 9-5 for the rest of my life. And as I stew in this ditch of unemploymentness, I still don’t really know what I want to do. I am however, set on the path to becoming a teacher, because I feel it’s important to at least have a path to walk on (and not really knowing which road is less travelled).

As many historians, and probably many in all walks of life, I’ve always had a carried torch of becoming a writer. I have great boots of creativity that usually play out in video-games, and as I visit my old school-essays, I also realized I’ve a great fondness for killing people in my “novels” or essays. I was also keen on fantasy-fiction and can starkly recall an argument with my teacher about the “proper genre” and how he stated that fantasy-fiction was defiantly not one.

I am quite certain there are many who can relate to having their “dreams” quenched by a hooked-nosed teacher, or been told to not pursue a certain career because it would just be “too difficult for you”. And as I sit here, musing about how different things could have been, I wonder if teachers realize the authority they have over shaping a student’s future. The prospect of this authority is rather daunting and I have an inkling it is not covered in the didactic curriculum, but should I find myself unsuitable as the "Jedi-master" least there'll always be the cat-hotel.

Maybe, however, I can combine some dreams?
http://www.pet-detective.com/