There are two kinds of a dream job, the one you have as a child when you were innocent and impressionable, and the one you have as an adult when you’ve learned more about yourself, when you know what you want and what makes you happy.
My childhood dream job was to become a doctor. Up until this day, I still find it difficult to draw the line of how much of it was my dream and how much of it was my mom’s and everyone else around me. As a kid, I was very impressionable and so what I wanted and what others wanted for me were all mixed up.
Of course, I loved science so I thought it made sense. I had it all planned out like a travel itinerary: college, med school, post-grad internship, boards, residency… and then become the world’s most awesome doctor. It didn’t pan out that way.
One year in med school later, everything crashed and burned. I’ve always thought that finding yourself is a little cliche. But one day, I was 21 and had no idea of where I’m heading. So… enough about this part though because this part makes me sad. And frankly speaking, this part of the story has yet to find a semblance of a happy ending.
Instead let’s talk about my adult dream job. I would love to become a writer and photographer. Yes, I have yet to pursue my dream job but I really am starting right now. One step at a time. I’ve published four of my stories locally but that’s hardly enough to be able to call myself a writer. So up until then… this remains a dream. A dream, which I’ll work hard for every day because I owe myself that much.