Last night was my final undergrad class. It was a lovely finish to the year. We all brought wine to class—we sipped and chatted, and the brave folks read some of their own poems (no, I wasn’t one of them).
I’m feeling a little bittersweet today though. I’m happy because after seven long years I’m finally (FINALLY!) finished. The champagne is chilling in the fridge and we’re going to celebrate. I was going to get a head start on the MA this summer, but the course I wanted is full, so I think I’ll take a little time to relax and try and do some writing. Feels good.
But I’m also a little rueful that I didn’t do all this sooner. I was too busy getting stoned in high school to care about school, and my family didn’t push it much—they were just happy I made it through college (I’m the first in my immediate family to go to university). Then I wasted years building a career in IT that I walked away from.
I can’t help but wonder where I would be today if I’d focused on one goal (I’ve whined about this before). Have any of you had a strong sense of vocation from day one?
Since I last posted about this, I am a lot more clear on what I want to do next. I love writing, and it will always be my hobby. I may even get paid for something now and then. But I really don’t think I’ll ever earn a living from writing. Plus, even if I had the talent, I don’t think I could handle the solitude. I’m really starting to believe my vocation is to teach adults. I know I’d be good at it. I really want to make a difference in people’s lives and I think I can do so as a teacher (the professors who have encouraged me have been so important in my life). Another plus—I would get paid to read books!
If this doesn’t work out, I’m going to hairdressing school.