|"...to the east side!"|
My earlier expressed desire to be a Murse is in jeopardy. I won't go so far as to say dead and buried, but it's nowhere near the perceived vocational calling it once was. Events have come to pass that have made me reevaluate that pathway, and have also given me cause to consider another, albeit it an older, once desired one. It's now that I am strongly leaning towards that older interest, while putting the more recent desire on the back burner. It might, however, make more sense if you allow me to put on the often rose-tinted glasses of the past, and let me elaborate further.
During a simpler time, back when I was cradled within the hallowed halls of my teenage alma mater, I had a knack for writing. Not that I was then an avid author of anything especially engaging, but it was a telante nonetheless. My rhetoric was often a source of complimentary statements, but even with that encouragement, I did not take writing seriously enough to consider "writing" as a chosen profession. I had entertained thoughts of becoming an English teacher, which is still being mulled over, but never anything akin to strict writing. Maybe I just wasn't sure who'd be interested in hearing my voice lent to reporting or perhaps I thought I lacked creativity. Even today, I feel that my ability with words is greater than that spark of creativity, the same spark that helps more prolific writers/authors to pour out all their creative thoughts onto the page.
|If only men penmanship had enough game to use one of these.|
Now, however, I find myself consider using my ability to form written discourse as more than just a past time. Be it for my own creative purposes or for an entity that requires someone with my talents. Perhaps in time, I'll begin to write a bit more creatively and produce short stories/novels of my own. Education, may also be a beneficial choice. By educating others, I can (possibly) imbue youth with an appreciation of the written word, but also maintain a continued learning of the rules of composition.
The Jeffersonian humor earlier in the blog is less indicative of any actual progress in life, and more revelatory of my decisions having been narrowed and solidified. It's also a sort of throw out to my Special Lady Friend, Phanny B. Relating to both - writing and Phanny - I feel as if I'm excited and comfortable with my decisions, that things can only "move on up" from here. I feel happy thinking that, even if poor, I'll be able to do something that I'm passionate in doing. Again, even if poor, I won't have to look beyond the Spexican at my side, knowing that I have what I want.
Although you may already be humming to something along the lines of "duhn, duhn, duh-duhnnnnn," allow me address something. I really don't know if "she" is "the one." I mean, in this day and age, there can be more "the one;" just look at the Highlander franchise for validation of this precept. What I'm merely saying is that I want to take it further with her. I want to explore what a life spent with might be like. We're not even a full year into our relationship, but I have incredibly strong feelings for her.
|I must've done something right in a previous life.|
There's a lot of indecision, that I've not hidden in many of my blogs. Important, however, is that I'm beginning to feel more certain: about life, my studies, Phanny too. I may not be sure of things, but I'm beginning to feel that way. I just wish certainty had been less reluctant to meet me sooner.
There's more to share, as always is the case, but I'm signing off for the night. It's nearly 2am, and I'm at work and can't think of much more to say about my goings on. I'm going to kick up my feet, eat a granola bar, and prepare to taser anyway attempting to run.
Let's all be like the Fonz,
"Love, Peace, and Bacon Grease!"