This latest change in my career status has allowed me to be reflective over the past twenty-seven years of working. Long before I spent ten years in the corporate world in the telecommunications industry or worked retail in a locally owned shoe store, I wanted to be a nurse. When I think back about that time when helping sick and injured individuals seemed like an excellent career choice, I giggle. Probably similar to what my parents did when I emphatically shared that it was what I was destined to be.
You see, math and science were never my friends. My constant companion was a blank stare anytime numbers or formulas were presented. I can’t recall why I wanted to be a nurse. It could be that I watched a lot of General Hospital. Quite possibly, it sounded glamorous (which my nurse friends are now doubled over in laughter). I applaud my parents for never discouraging me on this whim. If they did, I have blocked that out of my memory.
When I arrived at college, I applied and surprisingly enough, even to me, I got into nursing school for my second semester. Maybe it made me seem smarter to tell people my choice of a major. All I know is that the love affair lasted just one semester for several reasons. One, I hated it partnered with failing Anatomy and Physiology. Sadly, in order to do this job, you must know the parts of the body.
With that came a change in major – Advertising with a minor in English. This was more up my alley. No whiny sick people to contend with – oh, I found that I wasn’t as compassionate as I thought – plus I don’t like cleaning up other people’s bodily discharges. I think the process of creating and writing has always been my foundation. I just didn’t really know how much until my mother told me of a program where I could get a Masters of Fine Arts in Writing. So, there you go. From nursing to a writer where I can fictitiously kill people that annoy me. That’s just a reminder to stay on my good side.