Many of us can probably sympathize with the sick feeling of death that enters our bellies when someone asks us what our plans are after we graduate.
Now, maybe you’re one of those people who has their future plans all figured out, all of your grad school applications turned in or career fairs marked neatly on your calendar, and if you are, then I am both super jealous and super stunned by you. I sometimes envy those who have figured out what their calling is, have some concept of direction or discipline in staying the course. However, most times, I just don’t understand. That’s probably because I aspire to approximately 2,938,740,398 different career paths every day and am majoring in things that are just plain cool to me, that tell me about the world and who I am and who you are, and do not correlate, like, at all, to a specific career. Unless being a feminist investment banker is a real job title. If it is, you know where to find me. Except I think I would hate investment banking. See! Told you I have no direction.
All of this questioning my life compass results in a lot of me being like, “Nope. This is it. I’m doing this,” to things like being an Orca Whale trainer at SeaWorld—additionally, I struggle with where my morality lies on the topic of SeaWorld being an OK thing, something that may hold me back on my pathway to SeaWorld stardom and Free Willy-esque bliss.... I also consider moving to Key West with my family to own and operate a charter fishing boat where we all have maritime nicknames. Or becoming the next White House press secretary (mostly because I want to be C.J. Cregg from “The West Wing”), or becoming a documentary filmmaker, (here comes the money), under the condition that I only film on a skateboard.
These are only a few of the obviously super probable and attainable career paths I mull over on a daily basis in hopes that I’ll have some kind of an answer the next time someone asks me what my post-grad plans are.
Humor me, will you, as I follow a few of these plans through, and see what they might have to offer as a “legitimate” career. Because there’s no time like the present and no place like a public newspaper. OK, so there’s the owning a charter fishing boat with my family thing. What do we name the vessel? Wow, I already love how it feels to say the word “vessel.” I can dig this. Maybe something like, “The Big Cheese” to show our Wisconsin roots. OK, I like that, except it’s a little less majestic than I would like. Clearly this plan isn’t going to work if it’s taking me this long to decide on a name. Next.
Then, there’s the White House press secretary thing. That seems much more like a socially acceptable and normal career choice, right? Surely. How the hell does one go about beginning to aspire to such a thing? Do I just keep watching “The West Wing” and take notes? Should I start walking with purpose and have file folders in my hands everywhere I go? Maybe I should start recording my own daily press briefings and tweet them at President Obama. Yeah, that sounds important.
Listen, folks, this could go on forever, and your eyes probably hurt from rolling them at me, so I’ll shut up. If you have any suggestions or names for my potential fishing vessel, let me know. Vessel, vessel, vessel.
What are your life plans? And how do you feel about whales? Help Jacklin figure it all out over some episodes of “The West Wing.” Email her to set up a date at jacklin.bolduan@gmail.com.
