I have been desperately trying to map out some sort of career path for myself, oh, for the last 23 years or so, and so far? I have no idea!  In my younger days it was a teacher (of course), the president, a marine biologist.  I’ve dabbled more than once in the idea of being a cop or deputy sheriff.  In high school, when I actually gave some small amount of thought to my future (not very often), I vaguely remember an interest in psychology.  In college, I went down the ROTC path and wanted to be a pilot…oops, can’t due to my vision, so ok, how about a flight surgeon: the doctor in the Air Force who treats those on flying status.  But then I got pregnant, dropped out of college, had an abortion, went into a deep depression and enlisted in the Air Force instead, which brought me to my first real career direction: Air Traffic Controller.  Awesome job!  But various life choices have left me in a place that doesn’t suit Air Traffic Control well, military or civilian. 

Since separating, I’ve been falling  back on my military training as my “this is what I can do” thing.  The problem is, ATC training prepares you to be a controller…and not much else.  It’s not really a transferable skill set.  Sure, in college I did early childhood learning and data entry for an insurance company.  Since the Air Force, I spent a little over a year doing background investigations for a county public safety office (another fun interesting job).  But now I’m back in an ATC-ish job with a little light engineering and data processing on the side, and no expansion potential.  While the job is easy, and occasionally mildly rewarding, I’ve been struggling with the question: “is this really where I want to be?”  And I think I’ve determined the answer is a resounding “NO!”

But what do I want to do “when I grow up?”

My answer changes every month or so, it seems.  A year and a half ago when I was contracted to do some photography work, I thought, “this is it!  This is my in to a career I’ll really love!”  Yeah, no work since or besides that one job.  And would I really want to be a professional photographer?  Well, yes and no.  I would a la Ansel Adams.  Taking pictures of what I want, how I want, and selling them by the dozen to faceless masses?  That works for me.  Portrait work or anything that involves more than minimal interaction with actual people?  Not so much.  I don’t play well with others and it shows.  I’ve considered getting a math degree, but really, what do you do with that?  A physics or other science degree, but a research scientists (I would totally love that) gets paid basically nothing, and that’s if you can get in with a company like NASA (double love!).  Stay at home mom sounds better and better every day, but even with our recent jump in income, our equal jump in spending (yeah, we’re kind of retarded that way) has made that a total pipe dream.  So what to do?

First step is education, right?  I’ve achieved my Bachelor’s degree, albeit in a kind of BS way (no pun intended), but it doesn’t get me anything except a pretty piece of paper and a pat on the back.  So on to my Masters…but in what?  The smart choice is some sort of Management; Project Management, Business Management, Choose-Your-Own Management.  There are so many to choose from, but one problem is true to all: I would end up being a manager.  Did I mention I don’t play well with others?  While I can lead others, I am almost positive I don’t want to.  I like to be more hands on, more involved, and I like to work solo.  Depending on others is definitely not a strong suit with me.  Gee, don’t I just sound like a peach to work with?  So while I have achieved a BS BS degree, I really have no where to take it.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not totally BS.  It did educate me in the multiple facets of my current job, and after all, that is the goal of education, right?  To educate?  But it doesn’t move me forward.  It doesn’t open any doors of opportunity.  I learned stuff and got a feather in my hat.  Sweet.  Now what?

With a little bit of self-exploration (not that kind, you perv!), I think I may need to work on a second Bachelor’s rather than a Master’s, at least for now.  But options are limited by college offerings: must be all or mostly distance/online learning; by work intensity: I’m still working full time, commuting 1 1/2 hours a day total, and have two kids to worry about…oh, and I tend to go through lazy periods; and by financial feasibility: why spend the time and money on a degree that I can’t use to get a job after and that doesn’t even remotely apply to my current job? 

Top of the list at this very moment? Graphic Design.  Ok, so I may not be 100% familiar with all that Graphic Design is, but I think I would enjoy it.  And, ok, so I have no certainty at all that I will be able to find a decent paying job after, but I think I would enjoy it.  And, ok, so I’m only actually 60% sure that I would even enjoy working in that industry, but I think I would enjoy it.  I have a small amount of talent in design and art.  I enjoy artistic creation in almost all mediums.  And in an ideal world, I could work at home, with my family, on my beautiful Mac, and life would be all sunshine and roses…theoretically.  So I sent away for information from the Art Institute of America, and we shall see.  But, if any of you readers out there have some sort of experience or insight in this area of the career world that you are just dying to share…please feel free!  I could definitely use it. 

And in the meantime…more soul searching, self exploration, dreaming and hoping, while plodding along in this thing called my life until some sort of answer comes my way.  *sigh* and ho-hum.

I had a detailed post done two days ago explaining all this, but when I was a spell-check away from publishing, my computer shit itself and all was lost.  Hrumph.  Yeah, it’s been that kind of week. Month. Year?  Bear with me as I try to recap…

Moving, wedding, teenagers, the boy and the girl, too many projects at work, finances, Mr. W…I think that was all.  You know, basically everything that encompasses my everyday!  No biggie.

We move in 9 days.  We aren’t packed.  I packed 9 boxes in the last two days and besides the boxes sitting in there, you wouldn’t know it.  We don’t have a truck.  We don’t have definite moving help.  We don’t have someone to rent our house.  WTF?!  And I’m about 3 inches from blowing up on someone about it.  Someone being Mr. W unfortunately as he is pretty good at being a target of opportunity.  Not that he’s totally innocent, but still, I’m holding back.  Things promise to be better, much better once we move…and as much as I want to believe promises, part of me is always skeptical.

The wedding is in just over 100 days.  We don’t have a DJ.  We don’t have invitations.  We don’t have tables, chairs, a tent, or any other rental stuff.  We don’t have garments except for my dress and shoes, which is unwearable until it’s tailored.  And we are slacking on the desire to have a wedding at all.  (Talk of doing the elope thing has been flung around lately) What do we have? A minister and a location.  Sweet.  September 25th promises to be number 3 on my “best day ever” list when all is said and done, but that’s not for another 100 plus days.

Teenagers…need I say more?  I love them, but they are teens, and teens bring drama.  I think it may be part of their lifeblood.  I remember my teen years vividly (well, the ones that aren’t clouded by chemicals anyway…) and I have hold no grudge to any other teen…but still.  And the little ones, again, need I say more?  The girl got Lyme from me so now I am forced to watch her go through what I did and feel nothing but pure, unadulterated guilt for “infecting” her.  And the boy, well, one more month until the end of the school year, which means a summer away with his dad. 

Work is work is work.  And finances are finances.  I spread myself too thin in both areas and then suffer the wrath of my own decisions after.  I could kick my own ass for it, but really, what good would that do? 

And Mr. W…relates to all of the above.  Stress is contagious, but when we both have it, it only multiplies exponentially.  I long for my loving man who is just so overtired these days that he seems to be in hibernation…permanently. 

I passed by his old apaprtment the other day, and ever since have been reminiscing on our time there.  It was small and humble, but I have nothing but fond memories of those four walls.  We got to know each other there.  We fell in love there.  We had “our” time there.  Yes, we had fights and heartbreaks and even broke up more than a couple times, but there were far more wonderful days, and nights, in those spaces.  And I miss them so.  We were genuinely excited by, and about each other there.  We held each other up.  We cared and loved and were one. 

Today I picked up a package from the post office.  When the lady brought it to me, she had a giant grin on her face and asked if it was a diploma or some other equally exciting document.  I told her I hoped so, and then ripped open the package right there while she gave me an impromptu drum roll.    And it was!  As the lady at the post office applauded and showered me with congratulatory praise, I opened my official Bachelor of Science diploma, beaming, I’m sure!  Yea!  I brought it to work to show off, and my dear, dear friend and maid of honor, C, has been announcing it wherever we go, bringing out smiles and praise and congratulations from all around me.  Finally getting hold of Mr. W, I gave him my wonderful news, to which I was first ignored, then given a half ass, forced, not even trying to show any emotion at all (unless boredom is an emotion) “yea, you got your diploma.” Period**.  Hmmm….if I hadn’t already been choking back tears for days and therefore mastered the art, I’m sure that would have brought on quite the waterworks.  Nice.  Well, at least my less than personal friend co-workers are happy for me. 

**His excuse? “You graduated months ago and haven’t been excited or brought it up until today.”  Well today I got my Pretty Piece of Paper!  My countless hours, thousands of dollars, and days off my life due to stress have amounted to something concrete, finally.  Excuse my hopes for some small amount of validation.  *Sigh*

I should totally be doing hon mework right now, but, eh, y’all know me.  I actually slept last night (yea,  melatonin!), but that means I can’t use tired as an excuse.  At least everyone can rest easy that 2am wasn’t killed last night in a fit of rage…  I’m just not getting my homework at all.  Discrete math…whatever that is…sucks.  You know, I totally love math and all it’s predictability and hard-core logic.  (yeah, I just referred to math as hard-core.  What of it?  So what if I may possibly be a slight nerd!)  But the discrete part seems to mean that the actual function, formula, makes-sense-ed-ness is sitting on the down low so the user (me) is totally clueless.  But I got 100s on my last two assignments, so apparently I’m hiding my cluelessness pretty damn well.

I bought (acquired) Dave Matthew’s new album when it first came out, Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King…whatever…  Anyway, I finally got around to listening to it, and it’s pretty damn good.  I’ve been looking for things that speak to me lately, music, books, movies, and have been floundering miserably.  I pick up a book, or more accurately download a sample to my Kindle…the greatest invention ever (Sorry Girly!), and read it but nothing really grabs me like I want it to.  Same with music.  I’ve been picking up music here and there, hoping for something that I can just sit and listen to over and over.  The last I found was Maroon 5, Songs About Jane…love that album!  It just felt right.  But, alas, the 5 was played out (it’s been like 2 years or something since it came out!) and I’ve been trying to move on but with nothing to move on to…until I found Dave. 

I’ve had a hot and cold relationship with Mr. Matthews and his merry band.  I know, I know.  He has quite the following, kind of like The Dead in their day.  But I just didn’t really feel him.  I did like the first album, and Crash Into Me will always hold a special place in my heart, but on the whole I’m kind of like eh.  Something about this new album gets me though.  Maybe it’s just the place I am right now.  Maybe I’ve matured, musically.  Whatever the reason, I’m really digging it! 

And never fear, I still have thoughts of mah man when I listen…occasionally.    You and Me may just make an appearance at our wedding (if I get my way) because it just fits.  Anything, baby!  You and me, together.  We can get through it all!  (And maybe we can teach our kids to fly!)

In less than a month I will reach the other side of the wide chasm of time, crossing into unknown and terrifying territory.  As I peer deeply into the thick forest of mystery, I take a deep breath and ponder my decision to move on.  But really, there isn’t a choice in the matter.  Moving on is a must, right?  I couldn’t possibly just stay where I am, forever…or can I…?  No.  It would be irresponsible and silly.  I must move on

…to 30…

Yeah, my birthday is coming up and it’s one of those silly milestone ones, you know the ones that make you think of all the things you thought you would be thinking about when you reached that age but probably totally aren’t.  One of those ones that makes you remember when you though 30, 40, 50, 60 was old.  Well, technically 40 and 50 are still old, and 60?  Like crazy old!  So I can still think that, but you get my point.  I’m so not ready to be 30.  Ok, so I’ve got a couple of kids. *check* but what about all the other stuff I was supposed to have accomplished by the time I reached my infirm 30′s?  (That’s when you go all infirm right?  Because my body isn’t nearly as firm as it used to be in my 20′s.  Oh, wait, infirm means something else entirely doesn’t it…damn, I really hope my perception is wrong…I hear adult diapers add a good 20 lbs to your butt…)

So, by 30 I was supposed to have kids *check* but I had planned on 5 (yeah, I was also insane as a child/teenager/young adult.  I’ve just gotten better at hiding it with my years of unfortunate experience.  Plus I had a borderline unhealthy obsession with being a Huxtable.)  By 30 I was supposed to have earned 1 or more degrees and have the perfect dream career.  In reality, I’m still struggling with my first degree, which I totally hate at the moment, and I have a job, which I also totally hate at the moment.  Oh, yeah, and after cycling through the what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-ups of Marine Biologist (I get sea sick), President (never mind my chemically-aided shenanigans of my youth), world famous fashion model (not here, obviously…in Short World, where being 5’5″ and a little thick in the middle is lauded as high fashion), a coffee barista (yeah, I had a slight low period in my ambition),  a hitman for a super cool yet ultra-secret society of rich, mad-men (…), and one of those people who figure out how much an insurance policy should cost someone based on a multitude of variables…you know, like Ben Stiller in Along Came Polly, only much nerdier, but cuter (have I mentioned I’m a bit of a geek?)…where was I?  Oh yeah, after cycling through all those possibilities and coming to the realization that while all those things are probably fine and dandy for the folks who do them, and while I could totally pull off anyof them with the flair and pizzazz of a true professional, they just didn’t fit me quite right and I’m left still trying to figure out what-I-want-to-do-when-I-grow-up. 

Problem is, I’m gonna be 30!  That means I’ve reached grown-up, right?  WTF do I do now?  It’s obviously all down-hill from here.  Those white hairs and wrinkles start sprouting like unruly weeds.  The infirmity sets in (yeah, I’m really not liking the prospect of that one) and I start needing naps in the middle of the day, infirm naps…I’m gonna have to invest in more sheets…  My boobs are going to begin to foster an intimate relationship with my belly-button.  I’ll begin forgetting things like my kids’ names and how to play Clair De Lune on a telephone key-pad and how many parsecs are between between Dathomir and Coruscant…what was I talking about again?  *Ahhhh!*  See, it’s begun already!

Gee, I had begun this post thinking I would put out a list for those who have been bombarding me with that terrible question: So, what do you want for your birthday?  Hmmm…maybe later…I think I need a nap…zzzzzzzz

The older I get, the shorter days seem to get…or maybe it’s just that time goes by at an accelerated pace…or that I’m just moving slower…whatever it is, it’s very frustrating. 

Mr. W and I were discussing this phenomenon last night over teeth brushing.  The time lay-out of our day goes something like this:

• 9 1/2 hour work days
• 1-ish hour commutes (total time)
• (striven for) 8 hours of sleep
• 1-ish hour to get ready in the morning

That is 19 1/2 hours out of our daily 24 doing crap we have no control over.  That leaves a measly 4 1/2 hours a day to do everything else.  Of course, that time gets compartmentalized further into making and eating dinner (1 hour, at least), cleaning up (another 15 minutes or so), bathtime/bedtime for the kids (another 30 -45 minutes).  So at the end of the day, there are usually only 2 hours of free time.  And then we are both in school, so those 2 hours are often eaten up by homework and/or studying.  Where the hell did all the time go!? If we want do anything in our off time, all the other probably-shoulds go away…no homework, no cleaning, no play-time, and probably not the suddenly age-required 8 hours of sleep.  (I thought getting older always meant you could stay up later!  We strive to go to bed at 9pm!)  It’s no wonder we’ve been second-guessing the whole gym idea.  There just isn’t the time in the day (or the energy in our bodies) to do it. 

I remember when I was younger and going to school full time on campus  and worked full time with an hour commute each way and kept a (fairly) clean apartment and I still had plenty of free time…which I inevitably wasted away with less than noble pass-times.  I remember in high school when the 5 minutes between classes was more than enough time to use the bathroom, stop by my locker, make out with my boyfriend, get into some mischief with my friends, and get to class and finish my homework from the previous night before the bell rang.  Now it seems like it takes me 5 minutes just to pee! WTF, man!?

It’s a conspiracy, I tell you!  Well, maybe not…but it’s like if you want to succeed in anything (work, school, self-improvement) you have to give up the things that are really important (time with loved ones, hobbies, relaxation).  Unless of course you are lucky enough to have that dream job that lets you work your own hours, doing your hobby, withyour loved ones…or you are independently wealthy…  I guess until I win the lottery, have some long lost rich relative die and by some fluke leave me everything, or I get discovered for my oh-so-fabulous talent to take pictures and doodle so that I can quit my job and make my own rules, I will have to just shut up and color in this time-sucking life. 

My new hero of sorts: Anne Liebowitz.  She has the life (at least from what I know about her life) that I dream of.  She is a fabulous photographer.  Her work has lived on the covers of Vanity Fair (remember that controversial Demi Moore cover when she was pregnant and naked?)

and Rolling Stone Magazine (remember the cover with Lennon and Ono, where he is naked and curled up next to her on a bed?)

 just to name two.  She takes the most interesting and beautiful photos, and what’s more, you can’t buy them!  She has complete control over her work, and what she wants to do with it, and whether she wants to do it at all.  She took portraits of Queen Elizabeth II, for crap’s sake! 

You can’t really do better than that in my book.

I have so much crap swimming around in my head that has now melted together into an ongoing din of noise.  (Is that the right use for that word?  Oh, well I don’t know, and don’t really care at this point.  The fact that I can put any word other than “ugh” down is a feat in iteslf!)  I wouldn’t really say that I am stressed, although I probably am.  But I don’t feel stressed, just, well, kind of blank.  Knowing me like I do, I’m almost sure I am stressed, so now I’m just waiting for that wave to hit.  Maybe I was wrong in my analogy of stress.  Maybe it’s more like a hurricane, and I’m just stuck in the eye. 

So what’s going on in the world of Writebrite and co. you ask?  Well, where should I begin…(knowing all the while once I get it all out in one place/list, it will look totally inconsiquential and silly!)

The boy is leaving for the summer.  I’ve known this was coming for, oh, like his whole life, but still.  It’s a constant thought in there with all the others.

The clock is steadily counting down to the drama over the girl.  Will we move? (a whole new crowd of thoughts to add to the din)  Will ex#2 move?  Will I have to hire another lawyer and do another round of court-fighting?  (Yeah, like 4 years and 3, yes 3 lawyers for the boy wasn’t enough for one lifetime?!) Will she suffer through it all like the boy did?  Will it change her from her happy-go-lucky child-like self into a shell of a child, containing insecurity and stress all her own? 

Moving.  Well, we want to move.  We probably need to move.  But where? How? When? How much?  And what the hell do we do with the house we are in? 

School is holding steady at fairly easy and do-able…for now.  Programming has kicked my ass a couple times before, so I’m waiting for this new class/language to follow suit.  Just waiting…  Plus there is the possibility I will be taking the previously ass-kicking language again before I’m graced with that pretty piece of paper that ultimately does nothing for me, so yeah, there’s that too.

Work has also been suprisingly peaceful as of late.  Hmmm…we all know that won’t last.  And if it does?  Well, I’m supposed to be figuring out where I would like to expand my horizons, as in find a new job to match my newly degreed self…did I mention supposed to?

Wedding planning hit a snag over the weekend with Mr. W.  There were about 2 hours in there where there was no wedding left to plan.  Yeah, always a fun time.  But we overcame, and the impending-although-totally-willed-against stress that probably maybe most-likely will come from all that is also on the horizon, camped next to the girl, the boy, the house, and the job.

And it’s around the time of the full moon…which for all of you who don’t know me and my crazy tendency to blame external occurances for internal turmoil, means that Mr. W is going through his stressful period.  He’s a little more closed off than normal, and stressing silently (although totally obviously) about every little thing.  I’m hoping with all my might that I’m not part of the list, but historically…

In a perfect world, we’d win the lottery and all our troubles, stresses, looming horizonal problems (yeah, I know “horizonal” isn’t a word, but you get the point) would melt away in the shower of money.  They say money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell buys a lot of stuff…like houses, and lawyers, and other people’s completely self-serving but still undying loyalty. 

Ok, yeah, not happening…so in a semi-perfect world we would find a house that works for us, with a big yard, in the next year.  We would hold our already planned to be casual wedding in that big yard, with all our loved ones in attendance.  Ex#2 would release his hold on the girl, and let her start school with her brother in the fall, strengthening their bond.  I would get my ass to Human Resources and the HR chicky would see my degree and find the perfect job for me (both qualification and personal fulfillment wise), which would incidentally come with a GIGANTIC raise so Mr. W could stop stressing about school and work and all that other stuff.  He could then just relax and enjoy the fabulous new dream job he picked up last month. 

But we all know the world isn’t perfect, or even semi-perfect, so the din continues.  There are probably other things in there, contributing to the noise, but it’s so hard to pick anything out in the mess so I’ll try to concentrate on the squeakiest wheels.  Meanwhile, I’ll be taping windows and filling sandbags, keeping watch for the other side of that eye…

**on a side note, there are no misspelled words in this post (according to the handy wordpress spell-checker)  Is that even possible?  Yea, me!  But of course I didn’t actually write about marraige, which coincidentally is a word I misspell every. single. time!  Does that say anything about my propensity for failure in marraiges, I wonder?

I am taking this horrible capstone seminar for my degree.  My degree which is a BSc in Math/Physics, Technical Writing, and Computer Science.  (yes, I’ve already established that I am in fact a nerd) Now, my capstone is a reading (three books, one of which was to be read in it’s entirety in a week…keep in mind that I am a working mother of two, now)  and writing intensive course, focusing on…are you ready…disability studies.  My first problem:  what the hell does disability studies have to do with my major?  My second problem:  apparently there is all this controversy and drama among the disabled population of this country…and that is what the focus of the course is.  Seriously.  Apparently people with MD hate Jerry Lewis and deaf people don’t only feel they are not disabled, but also think being deaf is like being Latin or African American, in a cultural sense.  WTF?  My world is just all topsy-turvey and stuff now. 

For my final thesis paper (after weekly research papers…did I mention I work full time and have two little ones at home?) I am supposed to write a 6-11 page paper on a controversy surrounding a disability or medical illness that I have, or that someone I know has.  Seriously?  Oh, and there is a caveat that I am supposed to tailor my paper to reflect my major.  WTF?!  Three weeks ago I wasn’t even aware that there was any sort of controversy related to disabilities.  And how exactly am I supposed to tailor a paper about disabilities/medical illness to my major?  And  I have never written 6-11 pages on anything.  Besides that, I don’t even know any disabled people (or people with controversial medical illnesses…whatever those may be) so I’m feeling very shallow right now.  I assume the professor assumes everyone knows someone with a disability, so the fact that I don’t basically makes me a big douche.  Hmmm…

So I’m at a loss.  1 1/2 weeks to figure out my topic.  2 weeks to put together a rough draft.  3 weeks to turn something in.  Fun, fun, fun!

Oh, on a side note…I reallyneed a haircut (not that you care, I just want to whine).  My hair has become content with this feathered mullet thing, which has gone totally awry with the mass presence of rain and humidity that is plaguing my area.  *Hrumph*  Can I get a break somewhere?

I am not a good future planner.  I don’t have a 401-k or an IRA or any other retirement thingy set up.  (I don’t even really know what they are, except that they are retirement thingies!)  I don’t have a college fund set up for my kids.  I don’t have any savings.  I don’t have any solid goals I’m working towards.  I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  And I’ve recently discovered I don’t have a degree that will do anything at all for my career. 

My hastily made well laid plans to get a BSc have backfired.  I think I rushed into a program to finish my degree in something because I knew my marriage was on its last legs and I needed desperately to do something for myself.  Besides that, I do enjoy school and learning and it is one selfish thing I can do just for me that isn’t questioned or looked down on as such.  But my options were limited because I have two kids, and my marriage was on its last legs…my marriage to a man who had me take the kids to daycare on his days off so there was no possibility that he would help me out by taking care of them a couple nights a week so I could go to class.  I had to find a completely online school, which I did, and find a degree, which I did, and then finish it, which I will in June.  The only problem is that my interests and projected career path don’t lie in degree areas that can be attained by distance learning.  So I had to get creative…Interdisciplinary.  What a magic word.  Yes it sounds really cool when you say your degree is in Math, Physics, Computer Science, and Technical Writing.  Ok, maybe cool isn’t word so much as Oh my god! What are you thinking you super nerd you?!  But still, it’s impressive on some level, right?  But what does it mean?

Nothing.  It means I’m a jack of all trades, master of none.  It means I can better do the job I currently have, but can’t wave my piece of paper to anyone else with hopes of something better.  It means I can’t go into a Masters program.  Well, that is half true.  For the Masters program I want, I need a 3.0 or better (yeah, totally not happening right now), a specific BSc in Engineering (oops), and/or experience in the field as an Engineer (damn, that little “Tech” part at the end of my title screws me there).  *hrumph*

In the end, I have no retirement, no plan for my kids’ education, no career path (not even a muddy, slightly worn patch in the grass for me to follow), and a very pretty piece of paper to hang on my wall that basically says nothing more than, “yeah, this girl can learn something.”