Friday, April 8, 2011

Where Am I Going?

Sorry, please excuse the rather self-indulgent post.  I've had quite a few of these lately but I swear I've been actually working on pieces of writing. Just bear with me, next post will be much better, promise.  Just need to get this out of of my system. 

I know I've talked about this before here, I'm sure I have.  The question keeps coming up though.  

"What are you doing after you graduate?"
Photo by Smile
I don't know.  Not really.  I don't want to teach though.  I know that's everyone's first impulse when they hear my major (English) but that's probably the last thing I want to do with myself.  No, what I want to do is write.  Somehow, someway.  

The job title of Freelance Writer has been looking more and more appealing to me.  The idea of being my own boss, writing stories I want to write, working for who I want, working on my time with not commute, with just a computer and a pair of headphones forming my mobile office taking shape any place I choose, it's just so very romantic to me.

Really I just want to write, to tell stories through the written word, real-life stories or pure fiction.  That and ride trains.  I really love riding trains, I'm sure I've mentioned that as well before.  If I never make a living as a professional writer I would satisfied with a career as a train conductor, traveling the country, listening to the stories of the people making their journeys from city to city.  I'm dead serious.  I know, I'm not being very realistic or practical.  This is all just young, idealistic crap.

What's the practical move?  Advertising?  That seems to be where all creative writers go when they need to pay the rent, earn their meals and all that necessary crap.  A chance to flex one's creative muscles whilst promoting capitalism.  Excitement and joy.  I'm being too cynical, I know it.  It's important to be practical, right?  Let's be realistic, dreams and ambition won't put a roof over head.

In a few days, I'll  turn 25, twenty-five years old.  The way I always saw it, that's the age you really, officially, truly become an adult, no more playing around.  So I have no choice, no choice but to make a decision, to decide how I'll make my way in the world.  It's a terrifying and invigorating prospect.

Where am I going?  I don't really know yet, but I know I want to make it somewhere good.

Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is actually a fruit.

Intelligence is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.