When I was a youngster...obsidianicJune 17 2004, 06:40:46 UTC
Went to college in Columbia MO, because one day, in junior year, instead of a regular class, the teacher asked us, in row/alphabetical order, where we were going to go to school and what we were going to major in. As I listened, three people in front of me said, "UMC, Journalism." And that sounded better than most of what I had heard. There were only three people further along the alphabet in my class; sometimes I wonder what I would have decided to do for college in my last name had been Danowski, or Ahrens....
Since I was one of two yearbook photographers, I decided to major in photojournalism. But the award-winning photographer I looked forward to studying under developed cataracts, and the replacement duo they came up with gave me good grades on work I felt was not deserving. I figured I wasn't going to learn anything from them, and switched my major to news/editorial writing.
When I graduated, I realized I'd been carrying 18 hour semesters and working for four years, and had never been west of Kansas City. And what I really wanted to do was write songs and see the Pacific. I had a VW that could give me 400 miles on less than $3.00 worth of gas, and no other responsibiliities, so I came to the West Coast. Following your heart can be pretty sweet.
I recorded some songs with your dad, and made a few trips to some studios, in an attempt to make my dream come true. In the middle of it, I received communication from back home, that I was being offered a full scholarship to come back to Missouri and attend law school. My father had died when I graduated high school, but my mother was eager for me to come back. I did--for her. It was not horrible, but it was horrible. In the spring, my Civil Procedures prof asked us to close the book and look at everyone around us in the class. "These are the people you'll be spending the rest of your life with. They will be the judges you argue before, the attorneys you argue against, your colleagues, and your co-workers. Get to know them."
I realized at that point, that after seven months, I didn't care if I never saw another one of them again in life. What I lacked at that time was a way to get back out to California. Just days later, an artist friend of mine brought up the topic of California. He wanted to go for 3 weeks, and heard that I'd been out and was wondering if I'd be interested in tagging along. I made an immediate decision that I would go back to California, not for three weeks, but for good. Law school is too hard to do for someone other than yourself.
I've had a dozen real jobs, from copywriting to ATM repair: I was always happy making choices involving following my heart--when I had no responsibilities for anyone else. I have made quite a few decisions since I have been with wife and child that have definitely been following head instead of heart. Some that have not made me happy, but then, if I was only concerned about my happiness, I would have remained single and childless, to give myself maximum flexibility on deciding what to do with myself. It's one thing to gamble away the rent money if you only put yourself out on the street.
You may discover that a lot of happiness comes from how you feel about where you are and what you're doing, rather than from where you are and what you're doing.
Since I was one of two yearbook photographers, I decided to major in photojournalism. But the award-winning photographer I looked forward to studying under developed cataracts, and the replacement duo they came up with gave me good grades on work I felt was not deserving. I figured I wasn't going to learn anything from them, and switched my major to news/editorial writing.
When I graduated, I realized I'd been carrying 18 hour semesters and working for four years, and had never been west of Kansas City. And what I really wanted to do was write songs and see the Pacific. I had a VW that could give me 400 miles on less than $3.00 worth of gas, and no other responsibiliities, so I came to the West Coast. Following your heart can be pretty sweet.
I recorded some songs with your dad, and made a few trips to some studios, in an attempt to make my dream come true. In the middle of it, I received communication from back home, that I was being offered a full scholarship to come back to Missouri and attend law school. My father had died when I graduated high school, but my mother was eager for me to come back. I did--for her. It was not horrible, but it was horrible. In the spring, my Civil Procedures prof asked us to close the book and look at everyone around us in the class. "These are the people you'll be spending the rest of your life with. They will be the judges you argue before, the attorneys you argue against, your colleagues, and your co-workers. Get to know them."
I realized at that point, that after seven months, I didn't care if I never saw another one of them again in life. What I lacked at that time was a way to get back out to California. Just days later, an artist friend of mine brought up the topic of California. He wanted to go for 3 weeks, and heard that I'd been out and was wondering if I'd be interested in tagging along. I made an immediate decision that I would go back to California, not for three weeks, but for good. Law school is too hard to do for someone other than yourself.
I've had a dozen real jobs, from copywriting to ATM repair: I was always happy making choices involving following my heart--when I had no responsibilities for anyone else. I have made quite a few decisions since I have been with wife and child that have definitely been following head instead of heart. Some that have not made me happy, but then, if I was only concerned about my happiness, I would have remained single and childless, to give myself maximum flexibility on deciding what to do with myself. It's one thing to gamble away the rent money if you only put yourself out on the street.
You may discover that a lot of happiness comes from how you feel about where you are and what you're doing, rather than from where you are and what you're doing.
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