When I was a kid, being a writer was about all I really wanted to do with my life. I had a brief stint in 7th grade where veterinary medicine sounded cool, but the prospect of actually dissecting something makes me go limp.
Today, being a corporate writer is the LAST thing I want to do anymore. Until the loss of my job at the yet-to-be-named large tax prepartion company, I didn't realize just how much I had come to loathe writing for other people.
I'm not the only person who has come to an apex in the career crisis. My former boss, beloved friend and damn fine actor Bob Hart had a similar revelation last summer. He quit his job and landed at a smaller, family oriented company which was better suited to his tastes.
After battling the stay-at-home-mommy guilt, I have opted not to look for jobs but instead have been looking for a new career.
Yesterday I visted the Massage Therapy Training Institute. Ever since I received my first massage, I have considered this a possible second career. Every now and then, I'll look it up and mull it and get back to the executive memo I was working on. Since there are no more executive memos, I thought now would be the best time to give this a shot.
This is my chance to do something where I can actually witness the result. I can help someone feel better. I can use my hands for something other than typing -- and the other things you perverts are thinking of right now.
Assuming I don't chicken out, I'll start this new journey on Sept. 5.
And no, I won't give you a free massage because we're friends, even before you suggest it.
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