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Is that a wrap?
I’ve spent the last eight years of my life – maybe longer – believing that television was my calling. Maybe it was the fact that I had spent my childhood wanting to be a TV producer. Or maybe it was the production class I took in high school, or the wonderful job I had at a local cable station shortly after. But all the while, I kept having doubts. Every television-oriented job I had after local cable ended in disaster. Especially when I tried to enter the world of broadcast news. The idea of working at a Channel 10 or 12 was intoxicating, but actually being there scared me half to death. I kept telling myself it was nerves. But it wasn’t. As much as I wanted to deny it, to bury my head in the sand, I had to come to terms with it. I did not belong there. The last couple of years have been spent bouncing from one job to the next, the only constant being the tried and true camera operator for high school sporting events. However, one can only sit around twiddling her thumbs for so long, and the time has come for me to grow up and stop twiddling. Unfortunately, the rebellious teenager I was back in ’94 decided it would make more sense to go to a technical school rather than a bona fide academic institution, so I have no other skills to fall back on. I could spend the rest of my life doing main camera at high school games, but the only thing I see that getting me is a nifty company jacket. Don’t get me wrong – I do want the jacket – but I want more. Much more. They say that the key to finding the profession that suits you is to determine what your interests are, and what you’re good at. Let’s see…I’m interested in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, becoming the next Sylvia Plath, and forensic science. I doubt Joss Whedon will come knocking on my door anytime soon looking for a new writer, and the odds of my becoming Sylvia Plath are slim at best. Hence, forensics. I find the study of DNA and evidence-collection fascinating. Unfortunately, the only dead bodies I can stomach are the ones on television. I guess that means no Forensic Filing for me. I could always dig back into my sack of childhood aspirations: architect, day care owner, or princess. Either way I’m going to have to go back to school, unless the royal palace in Wales is hiring. Alas, it’s a brand new year, so maybe it’s time for a brand new aspiration. Lately I’ve been putting some thought into becoming a medical assistant. It may not be as exciting as forensics, but at least the people I deal with on the job will still be breathing. It’s certainly a long trek away from the days of making television, but then, so am I. At least I’m getting my mid-life career change out of the way early, which is more than I can say for my Christmas shopping. It’s sort of sad, giving up this part of me that I thought would always be there. But it’s also exciting, like a second coming of age. Minus the pimples.
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