the one and only truly amazing katster (katster) wrote,
the one and only truly amazing katster
katster

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What do you want to be when you grow up?

My psychology teacher asked me this a few days ago. Wondering if she wanted an insight in how I ticked. The answer is that I'm simply not sure myself what I want to do. I'm doing my graduate work in information science because it *feels* right, but then again, being a history major felt right too.

I've been pondering theology school, and becoming a minister. It's something I could do, it involves interesting stuff, and I like the religious tradition I've decided to adopt as my own. But then again, I've only been at that religious tradition since September at the earliest, and maybe it's a bit early to consider devoting my life to it.

Of course, there's being a sysadmin, and it's a good fallback. But I'm not sure I'd interact well with the people part of the job, and of course, there's all the typos when one gets interupted. We had to reinstall the OS on one of the lab machines today because I had set its password and then proceeded to forget completely what I'd set the password to. We suspect it's because I got distracted when I was trying to fill it out. And I can't have that happening if I'm a real sysadmin. :P

I once told my mother I wanted to be a professor. When she asked why, I said that it was the closest thing I could find to being a professional student. And there's some appeal there too. I mean, I could be a professor in pretty much anything, so it's not hard. The trickiest part is getting the letters P, H, and D to put behind your name to make you hireable to anything more than a two bit junior college.

But Mal (mrfnord) reminded me of something this morning. I'm sure he didn't intend it, but by posting one thing this morning, he reminded me.

I want to be a writer.

This summer, in the wake of the Hugo winner announcements, I made a vow. I would earn, and thus get my paws on, either a Hugo or a Nebula by the time I was 30. My 23rd birthday is just over a month away. I'd better get cracking.

I mean, it's been even more of a lifelong dream than even being a professor was. When I was in third grade, my mother asked me to justify why I was doing so poorly in math. My response, and she has never forgotten this: "I am going to be a bookwriter and bookwriters don't need math."

My mother (who, ten years later, would graduate from CSU Chico with a BS in Mathematics) then proceeded to set me straight on such wonders as word count and getting stiffed by ones publisher because I couldn't multiply... it was entertaining. And my grades in math immediately went up.

But no, being an author has clearly been my life's vocation. And it's probably the career path that would work best with my manic-depression, and my ups and downs through the changing of the seasons. And I wouldn't have to teach a class or six, like a professor, or deal with a parish, like a minister.

Now. If I could just get some inspiration and motivation, I'd be set.
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