The pre-pubescent me wanted to be a missionary. Imagine that. Me. A missionary! Ha! I think I would have ended up being de-frocked, or whatever they do to recalcitrant missionaries, or at least become a character in a Brian Friel play.
The post-pubescent me wanted to be a film star - not for the fame and wealth, you understand, but because it would enable me to spend my life being lots of other people. I would get to have lots of fun playing at soldiers and mediaeval knights and gangsters – and missionaries. It also occurred to me that I might get the chance to have a fling with Hayley Mills (seriously!) She was a bit older than me, but I preferred older women in those days (when I was twelve I had my appendix out, and didn’t want to leave hospital because I’d developed a crush on one of the nurses. She was the first of many to get over.)
Later on I came to a belief in the cycle of life, death and rebirth, and started to consider what I might want to do in my next life. (That’s long term planning, right? Not exactly living the moment.) So far, the two favourites are astronaut and Zen monk.
Come a long way, haven’t I? Right.
2 comments:
Haha, yes, you've come a long way. Although neither of those careers are bad, I just can't imagine you being them. Not that I truly know you, of course, just from this blog.
Right now I want to be a psychologist. Do you think that will change?
I think I'd make a very good Zen monk, although I hope I would be Zen monkish enough not to celebrate the fact.
I don't know. You strike me as a person of purpose who will pursue a goal single-mindedly. But then your poetry suggests a conflict between that side of you and the one enraptured by the competitive instinct. How does a person who counts the snowflakes falling on her tongue also engage in debates? You're a mystery, Maria.
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