When I grow up.

I have a problem. One that has plagued me since about my sophomore year in high school and is one of the major reasons I still do not have a degree despite having enough credits for more than 2 full bachelors. I find passion in almost every aspect of life.

The summer before my senior year I applied for a summer program at an art college in Atlanta, largely to be near my boyfriend who would be spending his summer there. The choices were obscure and didn't suit my interests so I semi-randomly opted for the animation program. As it turned out- I was pretty good at it and the six weeks there won me a scholarship. I fell in love and could imagine nothing better than devoting my life to cartoons- and my dream quickly became Pixar.

Things happened, my art school closed, and I changed schools and majors and eventually quit completely out of frustration.

Then I baked my first pie. It was pumpkin. And it was to die for. Within a matter of months I built a repertoire of wonderful pies, an idea for an all pie restaurant, and a business plan.  I had an investor and a website and was literally days from signing on the building that would be converted into PIE (a late night pie and martini bar). And then my investor backed out and my pie dreams died as quickly as they had been born. Although, someone else has since opened a restaurant in the same area the specializes in exactly the same thing.

My next love was education. I went back to school and yet another place and could think of nothing better than teaching elementary school children. And after a couple of semesters another series of events stopped that also- specifically marrying my army husband and moving to a new state.

Now I am a stay at home mom (by choice) and find myself seized by waves of old aspirations and new ones at least weekly. This week I have seriously considered selling Mary Kay (??) and lusted over a letter from the editor in my lastest edition of Martha. I think I would love working for a magazine- especially Real Simple or Martha. The glossy pages and heavenly weight of each issue fill me with something I cannot begin to explain- something that makes me feel like I belong within them. But other things give me the very same feeling.  Last year my husband and I renovated and sold our first home, and now I pine for the sad soul of every abandoned house I pass. And there have been many more, some long lived and some fleeting, but they all invoke an overwhelming love in the depths of my soul.

I feel like most people try a number of things and eventually find one that moves them and stick with it. But I am different. Broken somehow. Doomed to spend a lifetime trying to decide which wonderful thing I should spend my life doing. For the time being I am quite content to spend my days with my little daughter, but there will come a time when she is in school and my hours are quiet. And what then? What then, my friends??