WheatenLover
Senior Member
- Location
- Georgia
What were your dreams about career possibilities from childhood onward? I had a few, but this is not to say that IRL I could have achieved any of them.
I wanted to write and give speeches (not write for someone else), to write books for children, to be a Special Agent in the FBI, to be a surgeon, to be a spy with the CIA, to be a homicide detective, and to be a farmer's wife. I briefly flirted with being a drill sergeant in the Marines (I took their test at age 18, and that's what they wanted me to be), owning a restaurant and catering business and being a chef, being a famous pianist (alas, no piano), and with being a veterinarian (one that didn't involve animals being in pain -- ain't gonna happen).
The farming idea came from children's fiction books set on farms in which all animals are clean, there are no bad smells, no manure, no flies, and every farmer has cows, horses, goats, sheep, chickens, dogs, children, delicious food, no poverty, a wonderful, big strong husband who was also a great handyman/builder of things, and no actual crops to speak of. Hardships included waking up to a cold house and once in awhile, outhouses and chamber pots. The hard work of farming was never all that evident. I had seen historical movies set in NYC and there was zero problem with manure.
I was in my mid-30s before I visited a farm. It was then I discovered that the animals don't get baths every day (not that they did in books, I just assumed that of course they would). Around that time, I found out that farmers who grow crops don't always have a wide selection of farm animals as pets. Then I moved here, and discovered what hard work actual farming is.
I loved mysteries and thrillers, hence the interest in the FBI, CIA, and being a homicide detective. I was worried about becoming a dead spy, though, so I preferred the FBI.
I loved reading and always wanted to write, but didn't have time. My childhood dream was to own a big house on a big hill in snowy New Hampshire. It would have a 500 acre lot, on a lot of forested land, totally fenced so my pack of highly-trained German Shepherd protection dogs (who were very sweet, although could be lethal) wouldn't run loose, long extended family visits on holidays, someone to take care of the land, someone to clean the house, and a cook. Meanwhile, I'd sit back writing best sellers to support my lifestyle, books that would just flow from my brain and fingers to the pages. I had no idea how writers really work. I would use a pseudonym and not give interviews or have any public appearances. (I liked J.D. Salinger's books and he was big on privacy.) Still, my personal safety was important, and so was my anonymity. I don't recall a husband or children in this dream of mine, or anyone except family visiting on holidays. What was I thinking?! I hate snow and I don't like the idea of living in isolation.
Being a surgeon would be fun and that was inspired by loving to read books about the field, watching St. Elsewhere and Quincy, M.E., and always being curious about what the insides of human bodies look like and how the parts function together, plus having spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was a child. Neither of my husbands was at all supportive of me going to med school (to much time away from them), and I didn't have the money or want huge loans. Anyway, being a surgeon can easily lead to a major varicose vein problem, and probably back problems too -- but I didn't realize that then. Plus maybe it's boring, doing the same operations over and over.
When I was a child, I thought wives read all day, eating bon-bons, so wanted to be one, as long as the husband didn't leave his socks on the bedroom floor (like my dad) and didn't have false teeth (like my aunt). My mother didn't do that, but then again I was either in school, reading in my room, or outside playing most of the time. And she did like books and chocolates very much. By the time I was home from my endeavors, all I saw my mom doing was cooking. I knew she cleaned because the house was *always spotless*.
Today, I am glad I'm not a farmer's wife, a CIA spy, a surgeon, or a speech writer/giver. I'm not sure speech writer and giver is an occupation, except on street corners. I'm not the street corner type. I can think of only three jobs in which street corners play a part, and I'm not interested in any of them (Independent speech giver, drug dealer, street walker). Well, I guess school crossing guards would be the one legitimate occupation.
Being an FBI agent would be cool, though.
I wanted to write and give speeches (not write for someone else), to write books for children, to be a Special Agent in the FBI, to be a surgeon, to be a spy with the CIA, to be a homicide detective, and to be a farmer's wife. I briefly flirted with being a drill sergeant in the Marines (I took their test at age 18, and that's what they wanted me to be), owning a restaurant and catering business and being a chef, being a famous pianist (alas, no piano), and with being a veterinarian (one that didn't involve animals being in pain -- ain't gonna happen).
The farming idea came from children's fiction books set on farms in which all animals are clean, there are no bad smells, no manure, no flies, and every farmer has cows, horses, goats, sheep, chickens, dogs, children, delicious food, no poverty, a wonderful, big strong husband who was also a great handyman/builder of things, and no actual crops to speak of. Hardships included waking up to a cold house and once in awhile, outhouses and chamber pots. The hard work of farming was never all that evident. I had seen historical movies set in NYC and there was zero problem with manure.
I was in my mid-30s before I visited a farm. It was then I discovered that the animals don't get baths every day (not that they did in books, I just assumed that of course they would). Around that time, I found out that farmers who grow crops don't always have a wide selection of farm animals as pets. Then I moved here, and discovered what hard work actual farming is.
I loved mysteries and thrillers, hence the interest in the FBI, CIA, and being a homicide detective. I was worried about becoming a dead spy, though, so I preferred the FBI.
I loved reading and always wanted to write, but didn't have time. My childhood dream was to own a big house on a big hill in snowy New Hampshire. It would have a 500 acre lot, on a lot of forested land, totally fenced so my pack of highly-trained German Shepherd protection dogs (who were very sweet, although could be lethal) wouldn't run loose, long extended family visits on holidays, someone to take care of the land, someone to clean the house, and a cook. Meanwhile, I'd sit back writing best sellers to support my lifestyle, books that would just flow from my brain and fingers to the pages. I had no idea how writers really work. I would use a pseudonym and not give interviews or have any public appearances. (I liked J.D. Salinger's books and he was big on privacy.) Still, my personal safety was important, and so was my anonymity. I don't recall a husband or children in this dream of mine, or anyone except family visiting on holidays. What was I thinking?! I hate snow and I don't like the idea of living in isolation.
Being a surgeon would be fun and that was inspired by loving to read books about the field, watching St. Elsewhere and Quincy, M.E., and always being curious about what the insides of human bodies look like and how the parts function together, plus having spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was a child. Neither of my husbands was at all supportive of me going to med school (to much time away from them), and I didn't have the money or want huge loans. Anyway, being a surgeon can easily lead to a major varicose vein problem, and probably back problems too -- but I didn't realize that then. Plus maybe it's boring, doing the same operations over and over.
When I was a child, I thought wives read all day, eating bon-bons, so wanted to be one, as long as the husband didn't leave his socks on the bedroom floor (like my dad) and didn't have false teeth (like my aunt). My mother didn't do that, but then again I was either in school, reading in my room, or outside playing most of the time. And she did like books and chocolates very much. By the time I was home from my endeavors, all I saw my mom doing was cooking. I knew she cleaned because the house was *always spotless*.
Today, I am glad I'm not a farmer's wife, a CIA spy, a surgeon, or a speech writer/giver. I'm not sure speech writer and giver is an occupation, except on street corners. I'm not the street corner type. I can think of only three jobs in which street corners play a part, and I'm not interested in any of them (Independent speech giver, drug dealer, street walker). Well, I guess school crossing guards would be the one legitimate occupation.
Being an FBI agent would be cool, though.
