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Monthly Archives: July 2011

The most obvious problem with my career is that it doesn’t exist.  Okay, obviously being a student counts as work, but I hardly want to do it my whole life.  Don’t get me wrong- I never want to stop learning; I just want what anyone wants: successful, gainful employment in a field wherein I feel competent and accomplished.

The problem lies in that I’ve never been exactly sure what field that is.  All I’ve ever known for certain is that I wanted to be awesome.  It only occurred to me much later in life (I’m 20, so not THAT much later) that I had to be awesome at something.  Nobody really asked me what I wanted to be, except teachers who wanted me to draw pictures, and I don’t recall any particular interests being instilled for most of my childhood.  If my parents had talked to me about my career at that age, I think it might have gone something like this:

And it’s true.  Throughout my life I have only consistently cared about the things that go into my mouth.  Everything else has been just a phase.  Candy’s the only thing that’s lasted.  So, naturally, I guess my parents are pleased that I’ve decided on music instead of candy.  In fact, now that I think about it, paying for ten years of piano lessons was probably that “interest being instilled” I didn’t recall in the last paragraph.  Anyhow, feeling at home at the piano has definitely contributed to my “Competent and Accomplished” fantasy.  If that’s what they were doing, I have to say they did a good job because if I’d known their intentions I probably wouldn’t have been interested.  Thanks, mom and dad. 🙂


I got a little curious after leaving my blog untouched for so long and decided to google my username.  I was sad to discover that there are others with my username, and even a band by the same name.  I was, however, pleased to come across this:

The Bear of Bad News

Now, I know grammar is a sticky point for some people, so I’m not going to mock this person.  I myself accidentally spelled “rhetoric” as “rederic” just earlier this evening.  I am, however, unable to resist laughing at the mental image it produced.

Those of you who ever took any basic music lessons will get that reference, I’m sure.  The rest of you can google Go Tell Aunt Rhodie.