photo credit: kygp

Do you ever feel like you were supposed to grow up to be something different?

I do.

Last night I had a long conversation with someone I have known for years. She brought up what I thought was going to do with my life after I got out of college. She was crass about her approach to the subject, but it made me think about how far I have come since I was young.

What did you want to be when you were a kid? I wanted to be tall, and I wanted to do something science-y. In my teen years I realized that I am really intrigued by psychology, I started to think about studying abnormal psychology or psychopharmacology; this is when I first started formulating characters and thinking about writing also.

When my dad died I stopped thinking all together. I just puttered along, making very primal/instinctive decisions. I chose to take mainly art related courses my first year in college – eventually I dropped out. This made me realize that I really was happiest working artistically, rather than scientifically. I had always idolized my high school art teacher, his job seemed like it was at least interesting and people oriented. When I came back I decided that I would finish as an art major, that I would become a teacher. But that didn’t happen the way I intended.

I was working for an arts program in Portland Oregon daily hearing complaints from the people that I worked with that they were constantly having issues with teaching art, because the bulk of the work came through non-profit organizations and often paychecks bounced. This was, to say the least, disheartening. Still I was training to be a summer firefighter for the US Forest Service. I figured that I could go from that to working on an Emergency Teaching Certificate. But a few weeks before I was supposed to take the physical exam I dislocated my shoulder.

After physical therapy I decided that I would stay in Portland, work in the Americorps, and see where things were going with my college girlfriend. This taught me that I disagree with the way education is handled in the United States, introduced me to marketing as a profession, and in a cruel twist of fate resulted in me living in Seattle (a city I vowed I would never live in again). I am finally writing and doing more art again.

I am doing art and I am teaching people, about marketing, so I feel I am closer to my intention than I was a year ago.

If only I were tall.

photo credit: Vox Efx

I have been on vacation on the Oregon Coast for several days. I will return to answering questions and the like tomorrow. Have a nice night!

Why can’t you think of a good answer today?

-Carlos del Rio

Listen you nosy S.O.B. I work hard all  day and sometimes I just want to take a nap. And that’s your fault; scheduling so many things and demanding that I write,  do work, and make you lunch. What do you ever do for me? You could at least take the dog for a walk for me so I can get some extra work done.

I swear! You don’t appreciate me enough.

Okay, enough of that.

I will come up with some better stuff tomorrow. I had an important business day, some preparation for a vacation, and moving into a new house. None of the questions really struck me. Tomorrow though I promise that I will answer something really geeky, like Who is the last Cylon.

Earlier this month Dan Savage’s mother died. I think his remembrance of his mother in last Thursday’s advice column is one of the more beautiful things that he has every written.

My dad died almost 10 years ago, it was the worst day of my life. Followed shortly by the most difficult year of my life. He was my closest confidant. I talked to him about everything in my life, even the things that made him uncomfortable, but he always gave me the best advice he could. I miss him very much.

The best advice that anyone gave me after he died, the thing that I want to pass on to you, is this: It gets different.

The crying in grocery stores is one of those things that you expect and move through. Then one day you will just be minding your own business and think “Mom would love this,” and you will feel a twist in your gut and a lump in your throat. Those were the bad days, when the first person I thought to tell about my day was my dad, but I couldn’t.

Every day is a new one. You clearly have a strong family bond; share your happy memories with them. And whenever you feel that sense of loss call one of them to let them know that you love them.

My heart goes out to you.