Today is my first Masters class (or is it masters?, or Masters’?) … thankfully it’s an engineering one so that question doesn’t matter that much.
Anyhow – I have mixed feelings about this.
It’s nice for the obvious reasons – if I get a masters it’ll help my ‘career’, my company is assisting in paying for it (BOO YAH!).
It’s bad for the following reason – I don’t like thinking of myself as having a ‘career.’
I remember when my brother told my folks they’d be grandparents my mom was not in favor of the idea of being labeled a “grandmother.” I’ve since seen the same reaction on some sitcom or movie or something. Anyhow – she pointed out that grandma’s have white hair and are this and that. And she wasn’t those things.
[This unwillingness to accept the idea of being “grandma” led my mom to try and find another name besides grandma. Not mee-ma, not o-ma (or however you spell that), but something new. Something hip and fresh. My sister and I leaped on this and suggested things for my mom and dad like, “tango & cash,” “salt & pepper,” “beavis and butthead,” “cinderella and ugly-stick,” etc. … The Cinderella one I just now made up, the others we did suggest.]
I think this reluctance to embrace the idea of being a ‘career’ person is very common among people my age … and I don’t know if it’s a problem or a good thing (I’d lean toward problem but probably just because I’m more old-fashioned) but it boils down to – so what?
I’m not going to quit and join the Peace Corps (though it’d be very neat) because I’d feel like I was doing the wrong thing. I have a nice job, I make money, I’m in a good program at work, I am actually enjoying work … but all the while the thought lingers – ‘is this what I really want?’
I wrote before about how nice the IDEA of writing (and being published and supplementing my income) and being a teacher would be. But the key thing there is the word IDEA – would I enjoy being a teacher, would I be good at it? Who knows.
What’s my point in all this? No point, really. Just complaining. Oh, the terrible woes of a to-be suburbanite. It’s life, and I realize that, but every once and a while you’ve just got to do an old fashioned bitch-session.
If anyone reading this wants to give me a billion dollars to travel the world and read good books – you can take this problem right out of my hands for me. Any takers??