Hoo-boy. Yesterday’s post was a doozy, huh? The more I read it, the more it dawns on me that to anyone who hasn’t gone through that, my revelations probably seem fairly obvious. But I guess sometimes you just need to write things down and fire them off into the universe to really get past them. And obviously I’ve lost a lot of my journalistic training, because if this was a newspaper, I could have boiled it down to a photo of me look frantic and a caption that reads:
I don’t want to do it anymore, not really, but I still love it. It’s realizing that just because breakups are hard doesn’t mean you shouldn’t break up.
But sometimes no matter how many Thursday nights you spend on the couch screaming at Ronnie and Sammi, you have to experience it yourself to actually get the message. (Yup, just compared my epiphany to the Jersey Shore. Admit it, you’re kind of impressed.)
The best part about letting the world in on your secret crazy is hearing other people relate. (Again, something Susan always knew.) The comments, tweets, and messages I received basically saying “yes, that is also how I am feeling or at least something similar” were more comforting than you can know. (Because I was legitimately terrified when I hit the “publish” button. It’s kind of scary letting people in on the secret crazy.)
But my favorite spurred conversation by far was the one I had with my friend (and former co-worker) Jaimie over gchat the next morning about what I’m calling “the NEW dream job.”
Basically, it’s that weird or random job that one day becomes what you day dream about doing when your career is driving you crazy. It’s the type of job that your go-getting 18-year-old self (remember her?) would have never dreamed of making a career out of. (Clarification: Not saying that any of these things can’t be legitimate careers. I legitimately fantisize about having these jobs.)
Jaimie’s were librarian, florist, or gardener (the last two mostly because they come with the perk of being outside when the sun is up). Mine were pet groomer, salon receptionist, and coffee shop performer. Or the TRUE dream job, salon receptionist by day, coffee shop performer by night. I sing, Joey plays guitar (and I always have great hair). Trust me, it’s just as adorable as it sounds.
So ‘fess up! What gig do you spend your long afternoons in the office dreaming about? Museum docent? Barista? Physical trainer? Toll both attendant?