Have you ever read an article or descriptive analysis of something and felt your body freeze, while your heart started going "pup-pup, pup-pup, pup pup pup puppuppuppuppuppuppup..."? Not since I read Heiss & Butt's ~ as well as Kiersey's ~ psychological profiles of the INFJ did I find myself going, "Oh. My. Gosh. OH MY GOSH, that's MEEEEEE!!!" when I came across this following article. And I have a feeling that if you came to this blog because you personally got the url from me, then this is going to resonate crazily with you, too.
http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/index.php?term=pto-1095.html
Since I recently started writing again (a creative function that has also included drawing and graphic design projects in the past), I've noticed how I can go to bed at 5:30 in the morning ~ not because I'm tired, but because I mentally register it's insanely late and someone is going to have my head if I'm still found to be awake, get up at 8 to get the kids ready for school, and not feel too badly throughout the day at all. And although I might awaken somewhat reluctantly, I'll remember what I was up to a few hours ago, and pretty much leap out of bed because I realize the sooner I get the kids to school or occupied, the sooner I can get back to my work. It's kind of a selfish mindset, isn't it? It usually doesn't include anyone else, especially since dependence on another sometimes leads to being held back from the fervour with which you want to apply to your current project.
So this clarity of personal understanding again begs the question of what I'd like to do "when I grow up." SiKay is almost three now, so planning for more education or training is something I need to focus on. And going to a training institute or art/design college of some sort would be incredibly cheaper than going back to university (where I'd be paying triple tuition as a Resident Alien), and the notion of doing more classes at a Canadian university through correspondence alone isn't appealing whatsoever. Which do I want more, or would I be more skillful at? I guess I should be asking which would be more practical, but I've tried the more practical route, and if I really needed, I could go back to doing PR. Ugh. Or worse, lucrative piano teaching to reluctant kids. UGHHHHHHHHH...
Should I go get my grad/doctorate degrees in Psych for research (which would fun, except for that horribly disgusting aspect of wasting time on grant-writing), or Social Work for counselling (where I get to work with people, as well as on my personal psychological/sociological theories-in-progress)? This would indeed be a grown-up, make-the-parents-proud kind of job I'd probably adore, since I love helping people and am always wondering about motives/developmentally-shaping histories, etc. This route would also enable me to travel to do humanitarian work where counselling services are needed, especially for women and children.
Or how about graphic design? I love losing myself in creative isolation, and am really fascinated by the idea of focusing on typography.
While the gift of drawing photo-realistically is definitely not mine to call my own, much to my everlasting grief, I know from some classes I've taken that I at least can ~ and *love to* ~ design. I have some pieces I'd still somewhat comfortably include in an application portfolio, even though they were from the one or two drawing and graphic design classes I took before I stopped everything to have kids. Or photography? I know I have the knack, but have never taken a class. I know I have the interest, but I'm married to someone who has done photography, who was once *engaged* to a photographer, and my best friend has photography in her background... so self-doubt, self-doubt, that dratted self-doubt...
What about archaeology and history (oh, can you imagine doing research, both on your own and in the field?)? These two have always been massive loves of mine. Once, in Venice, we befriended two boys from Toronto and two girls from Denmark, and the seven of us dashed our assorted plans to stay in Venice for a mere two or three days and decided to, instead, hang out for two weeks together. Meeting them was one of the highlights of that trip, as each were profoundly individual, intelligent, interesting, creative, and hilarious. (I won't even get into some of the shit we came up with, but suffice it to say, the rules were the same and no one got hurt; strangers would only come away from their experiences with a touch of the surreal and an odd story to tell). Anyway, one of the guys had a father who was a historian at the University of Toronto, and his current project was to document every single stronghold in England, Scotland, and Wales for a coffee table book. In fact, after Italy, Paul was going to meet up with his parents at some castle somewhere in Wales, where he was going to do some sketches to be published in his dad's book. What a shitty job *that* must've been! (Note the dripping sarcasm, of course.)
Or should I nurture the "intrinsic me" of writing and/or journalism? Well, I guess design and music would have to fall under that "intrinsic" category as well. What my old, long-lost friend, Uncle Giggles, is doing right now with his photojournalism and documentary film-making ~ in combining his love of writing, people, travel, history, and photography with his humanitarian needs ~ is exactly what I'd dreamt of doing for ages. Whether or not it's possible, especially as a wife and mother, is another. One documentary I saw on CBC's The Passionate Eye, about women in the field of photojournalism, especially in war zones, kind of scared me off. Any thoughts, Saint Cat? Have any work for me in Qatar or Montenegro? (Just JOKING.) Dream job in this field would have to be writing regularly for The Smithsonian (they cover everything I love), and the New Yorker (for the pithier, amusing little anecdotes).
And in the swirling vortex of this desperate need to find my niche, the oh-so-familiar self-doubt creeps back in, and then I wonder if I'm really viable for anything, capable of doing anything else but laundry, baking, cooking, helping out with homework, and cleaning toilets, and if I really do have scattered shit for brains and am incapable of functioning in the "real world." Yeah, I can hear you already. I'll shut up now.
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