I just navel-gazed so obsessively, I saw clear through to my chair.
This morning, my boss asked me jokingly whether I would rather write about .Net framework or Russet potatoes. I delicately (read: not delicately, ignored so obtusely, awkward giggling was necessary to cover the thud in conversation) avoided the question because, well, it seems I’ve been figured out again, and this time, it took just shy of three months.
A year ago, it had nothing to do with what I wanted to write about. Writing was something for other people, people who had followed such a path from the beginning. I was a hobbyist – worse, a “blogger”. I was fully prepared to ice cupcakes for the rest of my life, and never speak about this again. I can’t believe how far I’ve come.
Yet, despite my inner and outer geekiness, predilection for Slashdot and Lifehacker, if you really want to get me started, say something bad about Fresh Direct. Or, mangos, calling them “thready.” Ask me how to make marzipan, and you’ll be ten minutes past eyes glazed over before I come up for air. Glutton for punishment? Ask me what you should do about the guy who stood you up last night (lose him), whether you should buy a pair of $700 shoes (are you nuts?), or why I want nothing to do with throw-away bouquets (frankly, everyone will duck while Dupin and Alex’s sister claw each other for it).
The entire course my so-called “careered life” has been about forced molds, or more pertinently, this idea I have that I can do anything well if I work at it hard enough; my interests barely factoring into the equation. Even when I have had my successes, from research presentations to published articles, I’ve still wished I could once have that feeling that I was doing what came naturally to me. Just days before my 29th birthday, I am almost kind of sort of really getting quite close to knowing what I want to do when I grow up.
And instead of content, I’m staggering, realizing how far that could be from here.
Wow, was I supposed to understand anything in that post?.. Have you been sniffing the naughty drugs again? :)
1 | Moi | May 26, 2005 04:10 PM
$700 on shoes, and $134 on face cream ..........
nana always said you only regret what you don't buy.
Wait, so is the new job no longer perfect?
4 | Rachel | May 26, 2005 04:47 PM
Don't worry about the navel-gazing. I'm very suspect of people that say they know what they want to be when they grow up. Most of them are lying.
However, I am going to have to go with Jocelyn on the shoes.
5 | Alexis | May 26, 2005 05:09 PM
Long time reader, first time commenter--hi! You're a fantastic writer. I think with your obvious skills, you'd be very well suited to writing for a cooking magazine.
You, dear, are getting closer to it everyday. Dream it, then do it. Sounds like you're well into the first step...
Honestly, you're doing great. And you're not that far - you're writing now aren't you? Now it's just a matter of getting to the topics you enjoy. I'm 35 and have just barely begun to get an *inkling* (more like a smudge of an inkling) that I might be able to support myself in the manner to which I'm accustomed by doing that which I love. You're at the same place at 29??!!! You're waaaaaay ahead of me sister.
8 | Belle | May 27, 2005 12:23 PM
Honestly, you're doing great. And you're not that far off course - you're writing now aren't you? Now it's just a matter of getting to the topics you enjoy. I'm 35 and have just barely begun to get an *inkling* (more like a smudge of an inkling) that I might be able to support myself in the manner to which I'm accustomed by doing that which I love. You're at the same place at 29??!!! You're waaaaaay ahead of me sister.
9 | Belle | May 27, 2005 12:34 PM
Smitten, happy early birthday! And just so you know, I love to read your food posts. ;)
Item first: happy birthday and many many more.
Item second: You're right on track. I don't think there's anybody who writes about anything who doesn't sit back after a time and say "I can't believe I write about this crap. I want to write about potatoes." Or whatever. Shoot,I know I do.
And if I'm not mistaken MFK Fisher was a "hobbyist," too. You are in most excellent company
That said, my adivce is simple... call Amanda Hesser and tell the wench to clean out her desk, you are on the way over.