ninanevermore

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From the age of 10, my middle brother always knew he wanted to be a civil engineer, just like my father. He never waivered in this, got his engineering degree, and now works for the same company that employed my father for the last 25 years of his career, doing pretty much the same job as his old man. His dream was pretty straight forward and it was a practical sort of dream to have. In fact, it's the best sort of dream to have: one that guarantees a steady paycheck. He is a boring, lackluster sort of guy, and was blessed to have a boring, lackluster sort of dream. We should all be so lucky.

When I was 10, I told everyone I wanted to be a writer. It's all I ever wanted to be. Growing up, I never waivered in this, at least until enough people told me I should waiver, because writing will not pay the bills in most cases. In a stab at being pragmatic, I got my degree in journalism, because journalism is a pragmatic sort of writing. But I never wanted to be a journalist, and have never worked in the field. Just like my civil engineer of a brother cannot do the job of a computer engineer or an electrical engineer, a reporter is not the same as a poet or a novelist. They all use words, but not in the same way. So with a B.A. that did not translate into useful employment skills except for the field it relates to, I fell into administrative work. Not as an administrative assistant, which is what they call secretaries these days, but administering things like documents, licensing, due diligence, and the like.

Taking a look at my résumé, it occurs to me that it is an outstanding artistic achievement: it is a lie composed entirely of facts. It says what I can do and what I've done, but skillfully hides who I am. If I were to write my real résumé, it would look something like this:

( On the upside, even this résumé would still get offers for opportunities to sell insurance, I bet. )