There was a time I dreamed of being president, a grocer, an assassin, a pharmacist, or a librarian. The desire to be a writer was never a career, but a hope to release something from within that perhaps explained my existence after I was dead or gone.
My parents being teachers lead me to have a narrow mind in terms of careers being available. They had never done anything else nor regretted it aside from the poverty it imposed upon them, so I had limited exposure to careers.
Reagan was big so wanting to be president seemed obvious. I was embarrassed of the grandiose of my aspiring to such so I reconsidered maybe being a grocer like Mr. Hooper. Sesame Street seemed to only have the one store back then so Mr. Hooper had the only job. In hindsight, seems like Skid Row.
The lack of ideas towards a career bothered me. I hated people, so there came a point that the assassin gig seemed plausible when I realized nothing interested me beyond being away from the people I hated being around constantly. I forget when I realized that I had no heart to kill anyone, but I know Nathan Brooks killing his parents struck me as something I could never do.
I was relatively smart and good at everything academically thrown my way so I thought I could be a pharmacist like my friend's dad. They had money it seemed. She was a bit out of my league because she was an only child and wasn't poor.
I became a librarian because I went to library school after undergrad. I went to college to be a pharmacist but chemistry and math weren't interesting enough, and I figured I'd kill people due to said apathy. I had a work study job at a library that was assigned to me after I indicated a willingness to do such since my brother had done such. I had no desire to blaze trails. I just moseyed the path experienced by my brother. Anything he could do, I could do since I was programmed to be his shadow.
Anyways, I was encouraged in my first job and went from there not thinking about it being a female dominated profession that would be destroyed by the Internet.
