A Terrible Question at 52
If I had any of those classic little-boy ambitions for what I wanted to be when I grew up -- cowboy, fireman, astronaut, etc. -- I don't remember them. I was briefly interested in a career in music, as a choir director, but then I picked Texas A&M University to study engineering.
I chose engineering, I figure in retrospect, because my father was an engineer. Then later on, as I came to idolize my father less and disagree with him more, I lost interest in engineering. Also, I was having way too much fun playing D&D, En Garde, Traveller, Wooden Ships & Iron Men, Boot Hill, Kingmaker, pool, ping-pong, backgammon, bridge, and just generally goofing off to spend any time going to, you know, class.
After a school-enforced one-year hiatus from higher education, I went back as a General Studies major, taking five introductory classes to see what tickled my fancy. I took Psychology, History, English, Philosophy, and Journalism. Journalism won out, and that led to a short career in the newspaper business followed by a longer one in the game business.
Now what? The sad truth is that at 52, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. A government drone? A shoestring-budget game designer? A novelist? Go to seminary? A blogger? I don't know.
I chose engineering, I figure in retrospect, because my father was an engineer. Then later on, as I came to idolize my father less and disagree with him more, I lost interest in engineering. Also, I was having way too much fun playing D&D, En Garde, Traveller, Wooden Ships & Iron Men, Boot Hill, Kingmaker, pool, ping-pong, backgammon, bridge, and just generally goofing off to spend any time going to, you know, class.
After a school-enforced one-year hiatus from higher education, I went back as a General Studies major, taking five introductory classes to see what tickled my fancy. I took Psychology, History, English, Philosophy, and Journalism. Journalism won out, and that led to a short career in the newspaper business followed by a longer one in the game business.
Now what? The sad truth is that at 52, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. A government drone? A shoestring-budget game designer? A novelist? Go to seminary? A blogger? I don't know.