So often I read other blogs and think “I don’t even have the potential to write something that good”. It makes me wonder why I write, but I think the best conclusion is that I write for me, to say what I need to say without filling the annals of Facebook with my madness.
I dream of one day making money off writing – not millions, but maybe enough to put away for a week tripping around the country. I’m not sure that I have the raw talent to hone into a skill good enough for that though.
My more likely career path is as a proofreader. I’m good at picking holes in other people’s work. My husband earns enough to keep us, so it’s ok if I’m not wildly successful to start off with. I have the safe space to build up slowly.
I’m rambling today, not sure why. It’s been an odd day of crappy mood, constant screaming hunger, and tiredness. Maybe that combination makes me more prone to thinking about myself and the future. Who knows?
One day I’ll have a career that I can tell people about and be proud of. Right now, I just need to get through two exams and one summer paper, and finish my bloody degree.
I’m signing off here before I start to make even less sense.