Big Dreams, Big Ambitions, Big Country.
Monday rolls around again, like it does most weeks. Well all right, every week. I am here at my desk, cup of coffee at my elbow, no sign of the cats. I have a busy day ahead, work, work, but enjoyable work. That's right, enjoyable work. 90% of the time I rather like my job. It suits me and I don't have to worry about things like getting out of my PJs or dealing with, you know, actual people.
I'm pretty content with my lot. Mostly.
I say mostly because I'm sure like everybody else I do get days when I think, 'if only I had done things differently...'
Stupid and pointless pondering really. But here's the thing. I think I would have made a really good vet. I do. I am good with animals, not squeamish, I like money and if you're a small animal practitioner your hours are rather good. Of course becoming a vet would have meant various commitments on my part, such as not being a complete jackass in school and not being a complete jackass in college. But such was my lot. It took me many years to mature enough to stop being a complete jackass, and in that time I had whirligiged my way through many different professions before landing squarely- and quite happily- in the one I'm in now.
But some mornings I cannot help but think, 'I ought to be donning a white coat and weighing a Pekingese'.
Then that moment passes as I remember how much I hate dealing with people and pets have owners. And it's against the law to throtte people even if they could do with a good throttling.
Was there anything you wanted to do but feel it passed you by? Or are you happy as a clam with where you are in life.
I'm pretty content with my lot. Mostly.
I say mostly because I'm sure like everybody else I do get days when I think, 'if only I had done things differently...'
Stupid and pointless pondering really. But here's the thing. I think I would have made a really good vet. I do. I am good with animals, not squeamish, I like money and if you're a small animal practitioner your hours are rather good. Of course becoming a vet would have meant various commitments on my part, such as not being a complete jackass in school and not being a complete jackass in college. But such was my lot. It took me many years to mature enough to stop being a complete jackass, and in that time I had whirligiged my way through many different professions before landing squarely- and quite happily- in the one I'm in now.
But some mornings I cannot help but think, 'I ought to be donning a white coat and weighing a Pekingese'.
Then that moment passes as I remember how much I hate dealing with people and pets have owners. And it's against the law to throtte people even if they could do with a good throttling.
Was there anything you wanted to do but feel it passed you by? Or are you happy as a clam with where you are in life.
Labels: The plaid is for Sheepie.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:12 a.m.
37 Comments:
Funnily enough I was pondering along similar lines recently. Turns in the road, that kind of thing. Vet was one, pilot was another, doc was another, lawyer was another, priest(! would have been major mistake but I was wise enough to turn down the invite), farmer, academic, zoologist, archaeologist...
Fate started throwing the cards in air when I was three, I might have been any of these, or others, but I might have been crap at them.
Plaid! With jackets! Sacrilege! Exclaimation marks!
I pondered becoming a teacher for a while after uni, and the ladyfriend actually keeps mentioning it as something I should still consider as apparently I can "bullshit convincingly to anyone". But it's extremely difficult to get a position in the north, and I'm sure as f**k not moving to england for a job.
Still, I wonder what it would've been like...
A priest! Zounds. Actually one of the most thoughtful men I ever met was a priest. Naturally me being me I can't help but think it's a shocking waste of a good man, but then everyone has a path to tread one way or another.
You're still a spring chicken Sheepie, you might yet realise that one. Being called 'sir' all day, oh the power.
I was going to be an astronaut. Or a Rock Guitar God. Or a Barbarian with a big sword.
Having said all that, apart from the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, my life isn't in a bad place and I've a lot to be thankful for.
Right now the idea of swinging a big sword in battle (or axe on stage) sounds just a bit too energetic...
It does but the outfits would be awesome!
I'd love to have excelled at something physical- horse riding , ice skating, rock climbing but the fear factor kept getting in the way. Drat it!.
But Pat, you can still learn to do those.
I beg to differ - the site of an overweight middle aged man in either spandex or a loin cloth must rate among the more hideous images in the world
Kim, you'll have to photoshop both pictures for us!
I would have loved to have been involved in sport at a high level. I always played but serious competitiveness scares me and my twenties are gone so that ship has has sailed. As for a career, well I am currently working on it.
I also think I would have been a great Vet. I'm not a natural caretaker to humans, the last time SPOUSE was sick I nearly put a pillow over his face. But if you've got 4 legs, a tail, and a furry face, I'm a regular Florence Nightingale. If I had only done better at the sciences as a kid...or applied myself in school a bit more.
...though I also have moments when I think I'd have been a pretty good character actress. Don't make fun. I can do almost any accent convincingly, and I've got a fairly elastic face, and pretty good comic timing.
Big Country - you have made my day FMC. LOVE them. LOVE. After their third album or so they were pretty desperate, but those first couple...fantastic.
That's the paramour's big regret too LR, that he didn't become a professioal footballer, or at least attempt it.
Conan, agreed, and some horned helmuts too please Kim.
Heh Andraste, me too, the cats can be very annoying and I forgive them, folk not so much. How I danced around like a lunatic to Big Country in my youth. I'm planning to wind down the year with some eighties-tastic music, be prepared for all manner of memories seeping forth.*
* dusts off Doc Martins and plaid mini skirt.
plaid.. plaid..plaid.. plaid.. plaid.. plaid.. plaid..plaid.. plaid..plaid.. plaid..plaid.. plaid.. plaid-induced memories of Bay City Roller-type urgh! Make it stop!
Dusting off your Docs? I'm still wearing mine! I'll never let go of the 80's. NEVER!!!!!
Plaid, the only square to ever cross the fashion divide.
Andraste, mine finally gave ghost sometime in the mid-ninties, oh I mourned them, they were oxblood red and so very very comfortable.
I'm quite happy now actually, good things seem to be happening around me, which is nice.
Good to hear, more happiness cannot be a bad thing.
Sometimes I think I should have become a real doctor as opposed to a phony one.
Long hours, dealing with people...dealing with sick folk. I admire anyone that can, but I couldn't do it.
I had a track to follow from childhood--dad was a teacher, mom a nurse, I wasn't into nursing so I settled on teaching. Good solid future, stability, no risk involved, etc.
Thought for a while about doing photography, but at that point I thought it was too late and I was locked in already. I was 19 or 20! What did I know?!
I got all the way to my last semester of student teaching in a high school, and hated, hated, hated, hated it (kids were ok, other teachers were awful). Deep depression commenced. Came out the other side with a plan for graduate school, thought I'd give it a shot even though I'd already decided I wasn't smart enough for it. Found out on the way it's SO much less about being smart than about being willing to work. And work I can do. So I'm still teaching, but now reading, writing, and teaching, and it turns out to be a really good fit.
That's the way to do it grims, find a good fit, wear it well. I have a lady friend who works in a horrible job and it depresses the life out of her. I keep saying useful helpful things like 'Get a different fucking job' but alas, 'tis to no avail.
Right to the gym.
Well, it's not the SAME pair of Docs...they die, I replace them. There are always at least two pairs in my wardrobe - a pair of 8 hole boots and a pair of shoes for formal, like...
Oh, and I still have my plaid miniskirt - it fits, but I don't think I've worn it in at least 10 years.
But I just thought of another job I wouldn't mind doing. I would love to be an expert at something, like one of those people you see interviewed on documentaries, with rows of books behind them, giving their expert opinion about some historical event or something. I have a friend whose mom is a historian, and when I turned on the history channel and saw her being interviewed I thought "THAT IS SO FUCKING COOL."
So, yeah...a really, really smart academic, with a resume and a sought-after opinion...killer.
First of all, I wanted to become a jockey. I'm now about 15.5 stone, so that would have been a short career littered with horses with sore backs. Then I wanted to become a Guard, but it conflicted with my left-wing sensibilities and I like hippies a bit. I wanted to become a physicist. I loved all that stuff about light and sound and electricity, but then I discovered genetics and that was it.
I am also wearing red 8-hole Doc Martens right now....is there something wrong with me?
Docky, there is NOTHING wrong with you in your 8-hole docs. I think I love you.
He'll be henceforth known as 8-hole Doc Mc'nerney
8-hole for short.
Why can't I be called red-hole?
8-hole sounds more 'street'. 'Yo, where's 8-hole at?' Much better than 'yo, anyone seen Red-hole?' Sounds to scoury for you Docky.
Plus red-hole sounds like a sore anus.
Not good.
A cat burglar. Or a spy. (Fancy myself in black). There's just the minor detail that I'm chicken shit and wouldn't actually steal anything.
But I've always thought it would be great if being a burglar was actually a respected career? Wouldn't it be cool to work out how to break into museums and stuff and pull of major heists?
Or, perhaps I've just watched The Italian Job one too many times.
Yo 8-Hole, wha's happenin' man?
You'll be dead long enough.Give it a lash and don't condemn yourself to a lifetime of "what if".
In the middle of taking a huge dose of my own medicine at the moment.It's fucking awful to have achieved both of your major life goals at 36.
It's also quite lovely.Hopefully a bit of time left to do something useful.
Never gave up my docs.I have a green pair of boots and black Oxfords.I even look slightly less ridiculous in a plaid mini.Result!
A spy would be awesome, but a Bond like spy, where all you do is drink and everyone already knows who you are and you get to drive cool cars all the live long day and sleep with hot men for no other reason other than you can.
Queenie, I've seen your legs I reckon you'd rock the bejayous out of a plaid mini.
I, too, wanted to go the route of Vet, FMC. I then decided to drink my way through high school - not really condusive to getting scholarships and that type thing. I floundered about for several years before finally landing the gig I now have and love in finance. I just fill my need to care for animals by having them all over my farm. Horses, dogs, cattle - no cats since the dogs would like to eat them. It works out nicely this way. I figure if I had become a vet, I wouldn't want to have so many animals at home, ya know?
Oh I hear that. Stupid lovable cats. I am jealous of your horses.
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