I know, I know, I promised Disneyland pictures. And perhaps eventually I'll get to them. But for now I am pouting. I've been pouting all week. I'll probably pout for a while.
Being in Disneyland and with my little brother and his incredibly awesome family (seriously, cutest baby boys in the whole freaking world) was so wonderful that it's really hard to come back to this joke that I call my life.
Most times when you go on a vacation you have something to look forward to when you return (ie sleeping in your own bed, seeing friends, etc). I have none of that. Also being at work this week has really bummed me out on life. What kid thinks, "When I grow up I want to be a registrar in the ER."?
I wish I had some kind of goal to work toward. Someone at work asked me what was next for me after this job. When I said, "this is it." She looked at me and said, "Really? This is the dream?"
Uhhh... I guess.
I'm ever so grateful to have a job. I know all too well what it's like to be without one. And I like what I do. But it's no dream job, that's for sure. I don't have a dream job. Well, to be a Disney performer, but we all know that that is not going to happen no matter which direction life takes me. Don't pretend pep talks. I know it's true as do you.
I was reading a friend's blog and the question she posed to herself was "What would you go back and tell your 16 year old self?" I would tell teen aged me to set a goal. A real goal. Get interested in something and have passion about it. I would tell me that thinking the only thing in life was to be a wife and mother is not a viable option. For me. Even now that I'm well past the expected age of all that, I don't think it would have suited me. I have too short an attention span and I think I would have gotten bored quickly.
I could always go back to school. But for what? I have no idea what I want to do with life. I am smart enough to do anything. I am a good student when I'm interested. But I don't know what to do. I'm not interested in the the clinical side of the medical field. I'm already close enough to the gore as it is. I'm not one to put my hands directly in it. Bleh. Nor do I have the attention span for legalese. I'm not an athlete and it's too late to join NASA (bahahaha). I've only ridden a horse once so I can't really be a cowgirl. And running for president is pretty much out of the question. Not that it's a job I'd want. I don't have the public persona for that nonsense. They have to try to please too many people. I say what I think and I don't care what others make of it.
I used to say I wanted to grow up to be a writer. But for my own selfish and self destructive reasons I haven't written anything (besides this mind numbingly boring blog and journal entries) in years. I don't think I have the patience or the artistic ability to be a truly exceptional cake decorator. I'll only ever be mediocre at best.
I know, I know, It's all in my attitude. It also doesn't help that I don't like Salt Lake. I thought living here would be awesome. But I've been here nine months and I still don't have even a sniff of a life. It's my own fault, I know. But being in a lame-o ward and having no friends doesn't help.
By the way, the word "I" appears 60 times in this blog. And that is not counting all the "me" and "my"s
How self centered is Bakeshow? on a scale from one to ten? a 93.