When I grow up.

 Everyone I know, well maybe not everyone but most, well maybe not most but many, is reevaluating, reassessing, recalculating. We’ve reached or are reaching that final line where we can no longer kid ourselves that we’re kids, that irrefutable truth that is THIRTY and we’re considering where we are and who we are and in what direction we are heading and we are deciding if we’re OK with these things. For most of those many, the answer seems to be No or Meh or Not Entirely Certain. Not that we’re all depressed and miserable and laden with regret - everyone I know going through this has sizeable positives in their lives. And Yet. We've grown up, but are we who / what / where we want to be?

I wish I'd figured out I loved writing sooner. I wish I'd been confident enough to believe I might be really good at something. I wish I'd never given up horse-riding and had taken French rather than German (nothing against German except that NO ONE speaks it other than Germans, Austrians and a few Swiss, who speak it wrong). I wish the Atlantic were smaller and flights were cheaper and my cat was more amenable to cuddles. 

None of those things are massively attainable though. I could hypothetically learn french, although I can hear Jeremy scoffing from 30 miles away given he bought me the whole Rosetta Stone thingy years ago and I am definitely not dreaming in french yet (this could, of course, be something to do with my not using the thing, but it teaches you to answer questions like 'is the boy eating an apple?' which really don't seem particularly useful.)So, wishes that primarily involve time travel for fulfillment aside, what do I want? 

I want to find an occupation where the days are not being counted off in wait for the weekend and which I can do until retirement. I want not to want to retire. That's mostly all I want. That and the body of Gisele, but that likely falls into the wish section. There are various options on the table - going back to school, striving forward in the non-profit world, crossing everything and hoping my book gets published (it's yet to be read and critiqued by my agent so we're a ways away) and becomes an overnight sensation to rival Harry Potter (ha). And then there's the having children thing, which definitely won't help with the Gisele body wish but could potentially be juggled with part time school.

So tonight I'm going to an open house for a Masters in Social Work program. It's just an open house - no commitment, just questions, and to be honest the whole prospect of returning to 'school' has me tired just thinking about it. But then I think about being an actual licensed social worker, able to do therapy (social work is a bit different over here) and to be equipped with the credentials and skills to really help people and I wonder... maybe that's what I want to be when I grow up.