I was a weird kid, the kind that is outgoing in public but had a lot going on in her head. So, I kept journals and diaries since I was six. The best part of this is that I chronicled all my dreams, days, and events for my entire life, with only a couple gaps in the late teen/ early adult years. I still read through them sometimes, which is embarrassing, endearing, and like re-meeting an old friend all at once.
When I was really really little, I wanted to be a cowboy. That was my first ambition. In first grade, I wrote on a class paper that I wanted to be the first female president of the United States. In second grade, I wanted to be a scientist/inventor after learning about George Washington Carver and the peanut. In my later elementary years, I aspired to be an explorer.
In middle school, I had a few dreams that ran simultaneously: to be a librarian, to be an author, to be an artist. I had a brief spell where I wanted to be an extreme athlete. And also a mermaid.
By high school, I was honing in on my interests. I narrowed down my realistic dreams. I wanted to be a Broadway star, maybe in films, an author, and an artist.
By college, I wanted to marry a millionaire and forget about a career. Then, I shot low, I wanted a job that paid the bills, which turned into a series of jobs.
Now, as a graduate, I have a career at the Community College in the Library that I am pretty proud of. I am thinking of going back to school for a degree in Library Sciences. I still want to be an author. I still volunteer at the Local Theatre. I still paint and have my own photography business on the side.
But I can't tell you what I want to be when I grow up. I still don't know.