Intentions and Aspirations

I myself was fascinated by computers from a very young age (like 5), having grown up in an era where a household computer was a moderate luxury and there wasn't much you could do with a computer except word processing (only marginally better than a typewriter at the time), a few rudimentary computer games (Mystery House for the win), and programming it yourself.

We didn't get a computer at our house until I was 10, and somehow even up through that time I didn't really understand that there were actual careers available for people who were good with them.

I always knew I wanted to be a technical person of some sort - a scientist or engineer. In first or second grade, I probably would have told you that I wanted to be a chemist. Why? Because test tubes are fucking cool. I had only a vague idea of what chemists did, other than putting cool shit into test tubes and combining it to make different cool shit. I probably thought it was something like Potions class or alchemy.

When I got a little older, everyone had outer space on the brain. The Space Shuttle program was in full swing, although it would be derailed somewhat by the Challenger disaster. In '88 Stephen Hawking published A Brief History of Time and explained some fairly complex concepts in a way that even precocious youngsters could understand, and for a couple years I wanted to be an astrophysicist.

By this time, however, I was getting to be a decent hobby programmer, although it would be a little longer before I was aware that computing could be a viable career rather than just a hobby. By the time I started high school, I got my head on straight and knew where I was going. When I turned 15, I got a job at a local software shop and cut my teeth selling random people copies of King's Quest, Microsoft Word, and Windows for Workgroups.

One day I was taking a look at a newly-released edition of WordPerfect for Windows, and the front of the box was a velcro-closed flap that you could open up, with more marketing and pretty pictures inside. Inside the flap was a quote from Alan Ashton, the then-CEO of WordPerfect. It noted that Ashton had a PhD in Computer Science (it turns out he had a very early one - there were very few institutions granting PhDs in CS in 1970.) I distinctly remember this moment for some reason: exactly where I was standing, what the box looked like, and so on. It was the first time I ever had an awareness that not only could you have a career in computing, but that they granted advanced academic degrees in it. I thought "well, that's interesting, but probably not for me. I'll just get a real job."

During college I had a number of internships that were basically part-time jobs, one of which was at a Real Company that made Real Software. I started out as a sort of apprentice under one of the existing developers, and learned as fast as I could. When that guy quit to pursue dot-com megabucks in the burgeoning set-top box market (see here), they just didn't replace him and left me in his position. They didn't pay me any more, of course, but at the tender age of 20 I had the job I had basically been working toward my whole life. It was pretty neat, and I stayed there about a year and a half in total.

In school, I had been doing a little undergraduate research at the same time, and that also turned out well. The professor supervising the work told me I should go to grad school, but I explained that I hated school and just wanted to get a Real Job. He claimed that Real Jobs were Real Boring, and I'd have more fun sticking around. He struck a chord - I had gotten to the point in my existing Real Job that I basically understood what that was all about. The top engineers at the company - the designers who got to do the really fun shit - had these advanced degrees.

A lot of years of school later, I popped out the other end. I have a Real Job now, but I have quite a bit of freedom to decide what to work on. It's not chemistry or astrophysics, but I do work with a lot of space nuts. One guy I know worked on the Huygens probe and got to sign something that went on the spacecraft (not the public DVD with computer files on it, but his actual signature). He told me once that in 1,000 years he will have turned to dust and been completely forgotten - heck, humanity might not even be around anymore - but his signature will still be sitting there on the surface of Titan. I thought that was kind of cool.

 

As a kid, I wanted to be either a vet or a songwriter (couldn't sing, nor had the desire to play instruments). Wanted to be the former because I loved/still love animals; wanted to be the latter because I loved to write. Then I realized being a vet actually involved seeing sick animals that die (which I didn't like), and writing songs without being able to sing them meant a shitty financial future.

Took up sportswriting when I was 15, did that consistently freelance and without pay until I was 19 and kept myself fed with occasional jobs in the family business. Then something shitty happened, ended up in the hospital giving my living will to my mother and realizing in the process that my heart and passion was with the education of children, a.k.a. the family business. After I improbably woke up from the brain surgery, I immediately got back to work, and I haven't looked back since.

Now I do exactly what I want and love (coincidentally, much of it involves writing), and in my spare time I'm still working on turning my shitty experience into a book. I'd be doing what I do right now for free.

But then again, I always consider my waking up from surgery being that cliche "new beginning/second chance," as I had to literally reconstruct my life from the ground, up (including re-learning walking, handwriting, a little bit of talking and writing, all that fun stuff), so if you're taking that approach you could reasonably say I've been following my dreams since the "beginning."

 

I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Growing up, the ceiling of my room was covered with hanging model airplanes. I probably built more than 100 with my dad. I watched movies like Iron Eagle, Memphis Belle, Tora! Tora! Tora!, Midway, etc., over and over and over. Everytime I went to Washington, D.C. (once a year or so) I'd spend nearly an entire day in the Air and Space Museum.

Then my eyes went to shit in eighth grade. I periodically research whether I could get laser eye surgery and still become a pilot, but between a bum knee and terrible vision, I think it's a pipe dream.

So I coasted through college studying the major that came easiest to me: English. I read and wrote anyway, so I figured I might as well get As for it. Now I'm a newspaper reporter "in between jobs" and looking to transition into public relations.

 

I had an Asperger's-like obsession with cars as a kid. Now my job is to drive them, write about them and every two weeks there's money in the bank.

The problem is I'm not satisfied and still want to own my own business one day. Which I will do. Right now, I'd say I rule.

 

Jeez. Fuck you guys. I was eager to see people agreeing with my miserable situation with not wanting to do anything ever. After reading through these replies I realize that something must be wrong with me.

When I was younger I just wanted to play basketball, soccer, baseball, anything professional. I dreamed of being a professional athlete of some sort. And I could have because I was good...but then health reasons completely shut off any chance of being able to compete. From there I have just coasted through school without really having an idea of what I want to do. Now I'm a junior in college getting a degree in Biomedical Engineering, but I don't really know why of have a particular reason for doing so. When people ask me why BME all I can answer is that it is the one of the hardest majors, and why not try something difficult? I have just coasted by on my ability to easily memorize things, and I am nowhere near as intelligent as the people who seem to care for the subject.

I am envious of the people who saw something they loved and are now working and enjoying the things they do. I love leisure time, so hopefully when I graduate or get a masters in something I can make some money and retire and just do whatever I feel like.

Reading back over this makes me sound depressed and shit, but it is more of just a general apathy towards the working world and figuring out what I want to do.

 

Growing up I always wanted to be an Army Officer or military history professor. I even joined the Army Reserve right after I turned 17.

Skip ten years I've now turned down a direct commission to deploy and am getting out as soon as I can. I've also seen how pointless War is and how most of academia is mental masturbation so there is noway in fuck I'm getting a PhD.

So now I'm going back to school to get a Masters in International Affairs with the intent of getting into post-conflict reconstruction or international development in the Middle East or Africa. I know I just bashed Academia, but a M.A. is required, I would literally rather spend the time in Afghanistan.

 

When I was a kid I vacillated between firefighter and Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, but finally stuck with ballerina. I used to put on shows for my parents. I'd run around in my gymnastics leotard and white Mary Janes from Easter, begging them to put me in dance class. When I was 6 they finally did, and I pretty much fell in love with dance. It came really easily to me, and I enjoyed it. For part of high school I lived away from home and went to a ballet school on the east coast. My teachers were all Eastern European, Russian, or just plain Crazy Alcoholics who were sometimes drunk during class. I have dozens of stories about them. (My favorite is one of my teachers exclaiming that my arm looked like a chicken bone and biting it in front of the class. I was 12 and mortified. Or one of my teachers and her pianist. They absolutely hated each other and fought in Russian at least once a week over tempo, time signature, style, the weather, whatever. My teacher would storm out of the studio, slam the door, and then come back 30 min later acting as if nothing happened. We just sat there waiting for her because we knew if we left there would be hell to pay. The pianist just put his head on his piano and dozed while she calmed down.)

I eventually went to college on a dance scholarship, and when I graduated got a job with a professional company. While I was the company, I spent my evenings teaching dance to kids ages 3-15. I loved teaching the older girls who actually gave a shit; I despised babysitting toddlers whose parents just wanted to put them in another activity so they could run to the mall. So, I began a Pilates instructor certification course to teach Mat, Reformer, Cadillac, Chair, and Barrels. I had taken Pilates since I was 14, and I thought it tied in nicely with my strengths. Even though I wasn't entirely enthusiastic about teaching kids, I've always had a natural gift for cueing and directing people through movement. I figured that I could stop teaching babies and start teaching Pilates. Besides, no dance companies or dance classes meet until at least 8 or 9 am, and this way I could teach clients as early as 6 am.

Around this time, something happened in my personal life and I decided to stop performing. I thought about the significant aspects of myself, and I remembered the anatomy and various modifications we addressed in my Pilates courses. It made me start thinking about people who weren't able to fully experience movement like I could. So, I moved back to Texas and became a tech in an out-patient orthopedic physical therapy clinic. I had no experience in PT, but I was hired because of my Pilates certification and dance background. Working there made me decide I definitely wanted to become a PT, and I spent a lot of time volunteering in acute care/hospital and pediatric (kids who are autistic, have sensory integration disorders, etc) PT settings. I spent a year and a half in the clinic, and what I learned was invaluable. Right now, I teach Pilates while I'm in school. I love the clients, I love being active, and I love that I basically make my own schedule. I really love that I'm not pounding my body and dancing through pain anymore.

My goal is to become a PT to dancers. There's a department in a NYC hospital that is exclusive to treating performing artists. All of the staff there, including the orthopedists, are former professional dancers and choreographers, and all of the therapists are certified in Pilates. I want to do my last clinical there. I would love to rehab and educate ballet/modern/Broadway dancers, companies like Cirque, etc, etc. So many of my teachers had total hip and knee replacements at early ages because of HOW they danced when they were younger. I'd love to save someone the pain/grief/career ending early because of that. I can only imagine how much I could learn at a place like that. This is so not where I thought my life would take me, but it's awesome. I could make so much more money staying in Texas or working in a hospital with people who can't even stand up, let alone walk down the hall. But, I love this. It's me. Evolution, baby.

 

Since I can remember, starting in kindergarten, I've always wanted to be an astronaut. Space has always been the most fascinating thing to me. In high school it pretty much fell in the back of my mind because I was way too busy trying to find a group I fit in to (still looking for that), and I played paintball competitively so that took up all of my free time.

I went to college, had no idea what I wanted to do except that I like science. I graduate with my bachelor's in biology next spring. In the last year, I've decided that I have zero interest in taking samples from streams or working in a lab (which I currently do). I'm going to try everything I can to actually make it into NASA or another space program and get into space. I have two professors to help me with that so far, but the real problem is figuring out whether or not going into the Air Force is a good choice to learn how to fly planes, which are my second greatest interest. My next step is either that, or get a M.S. in something I can apply toward that goal.
At least if I fail, I won't regret having not ever tried.

 

I wanted to be a lawyer ever since my grandfather made me watch old episodes of Perry Mason. Recently, my best friend and I were unpacking some of my crap at my boyfriend's and found my senior book. In 1995, I wrote that in ten years I would have "completed law school at Tulane".

Well, I have a lot of contact with attorneys now since I tried my hand at being a professional drunk driving law student which surprisingly doesn't fare so well.

Instead, I am working on becoming an addiction specialist counselor.

 

When I was little, I wanted to grow up to be a unicorn, but it never really panned out.

Barring that, I wanted to be the ruler of the universe. Or a sheep farmer. Why sheep? I've no idea.

I'm more toward sheep farming these days.

 

The dream of becoming an attorney came to an abrupt end at the age of 19. That was the year I realized I'd be in massive debt and for the type of law I wanted to practice (criminal law on the side of the good guys) I'd make next to nothing for all that schooling. I had an almost obsessive hobby of studying criminal behavior and thought being a prosecutor like Jack McCoy would delve into this. Why I thought lawyer = exploring the mind of a criminal is beyond me.

I then shifted to being a writer. At 31, I still harbor a delusion that my writing is good enough to be published someday.

In the end, I went back to my roots of exploring the "whys" of human behavior. And now I explore the minds of serial rapists and child molesters. The writer in me gets to put my thoughts down on paper about deviant behavior. I thoroughly enjoy what I do but seriously never thought I'd end up doing this. I figured I'd stick with reading a case file and making assumptions - not actually sitting down with a rapist and picking his brain.

 

And it hasn't changed since I was nine.

 

You keep reaching for that rainbow.