I’m sure you’re dying to know how my quest to find a sensible career is coming.
My subconscious has a tradition, whenever I am either in the midst of a significant life change, to give me extremely violent nightmares.
Well, lately I’ve been having extremely violent nightmares. They’re usually quite intricate, with a full-blown plot and lovable characters (who die gruesomely yet poetically).
And of course, there is one exception: sometimes I get violent, bloody dreams when I’m about to make an incredibly stupid decision. It’s like a helpful compass.
I may become a therapist yet…but not yet. Not yet. I have unfinished business to do first.
I sat down with my parents the other day, and kindly shared that I would still be needing their money, but for different studies that I had previously mentioned. It was something I’d never asked for money for before: something not sensible.
They just listened.
I said something along the lines of, “I’ve always loved art…and creativity… But this goes against every fiber of my being. I’m afraid that if I put money—your money—into schooling which has very little guarantee of a job after graduation, let alone a lucrative career, I will end up losing what’s really important: my money. And then I won’t be able to pay for rent, or food, and I’ll die of a combination of starvation and humiliation.”
So I awkwardly filled the silence with, “A career is not something to fiddle with. A career should be sensible. Sensible.”
To which my dad responded, “I’ve always thought it’s best to have an un-sensible life and sensible shoes.”
Thank you, dad.