I had very little time after graduating college to make a career decision. You see, you were born about 4 months after I got my degree. So I didn’t really have the opportunity to take my time, figure out what I wanted to do, and go after it. I had to make a quick decision.
I had decided while I was in college that I was going to be a writer, or maybe work for a publishing company. I can write well enough (despite the errors you’ll inevitable read here, mainly because I drink whiskey when I write “write drunk, edit sober” – Hemingway. I sometimes make it back to edit) and I can proof-read pretty well also. When I started college, I wasn’t much of a writer, the ideas and the words were never the issue, it was the composition; I lacked the ability to organize and present my thoughts effectively, usually.
So naturally, when college was over, I thought I would use the skill-set I acquired to make more words. Maybe someone would buy them. But that wasn’t really an option for me because I needed to make money to pay for your poop-holders and, you know, maybe a roof over your head? But it worked out well, I carved out a little piece. I make good money working at a job that I enjoy. I also get to write, mainly this blog. (or literary parenting publication, if I choose to be lofty and somewhat misleading about it) I do know for certain, the best way to destroy your passion is to rely on it to make money. So I get the best of both worlds.
One idiot is drinking an espresso, the real champion has the full rocks-glass of moonshine. You choose your own victor, though.
I have no idea what you’re going to really enjoy yet. Currently it’s matchbox cars and anything with buttons. You also dig on good jams; you dance to the beat. But one day you’ll really find something you enjoy, and it could very well be something that will make you some money too. So I’m here to kind of push you along that way, really. My dad, your “Pops” never pushed me in any direction, even though it would’ve been really easy to attest to the greatness of being a fireman. He knew I needed to find my own way, discover my on path, carve out my own piece. Because what worked for him probably wouldn’t work for me, and, similarly, what works for me will probably not work for you.
Really, my biggest goal is to help you experience and try as many things as possible. I’m not particularly fond of sports, but it’s totally cool if you love them; I’ll go to your games. You want to make some bad ass music? I’ll play along with you until your skills outpace mine. You want to paint or write or sculpt? I’ll be your biggest fan, no doubt. Technology, hard work, restaurants, gaming, anything, really, just do something. Some people say a man’s career is a reflection of himself. I say that’s bullshit. Make some fucking money and pay your bills. Work to live. Sometimes that line may become a grey area, and that either means you love your job, or your job is consuming you. Don’t allow it to be the latter.
See? This chick knows what’s up. She’s got a whiskey and coke while doing business.
When I was growing up there was a big push for everyone to get a college degree. Times are changing nowadays. College is getting too expensive, leaving people with mountains of life-long debt. Some people don’t need a degree to be successful, and most importantly happy. I’m totally fine with either decision, but I will not allow you to make that decision out of laziness or complacency. It took me a long time to get a degree, and at some points in my life I never actually thought I would go back to get it. It was the best decision I ever made, and it could be yours. But, again, it may not be. I’m cool either way.
At the very minimum you’ll need transportation and a place to live—if you grow up to be something like me, you’ll require internet too, shit’s too good to miss out on. So do enough to have those things, and fill the rest of your life in with things that bring you joy. I write to you and that brings me joy. I volunteer and that brings me joy. I read and play video games and drink whiskey and educate myself. A job doesn’t define the man, it pays for the man to be able to define himself.