For now, though, animals. Dogs and cats, to be exact. To be more exact: ones that need saving from near-certain death, are small, get along well with other animals (since I have a pug), and are free.
It's part of my need to set roots. And to also stop myself from leaving the house too often and inevitably and unnecessarily spending money.
I figure I might as well start my impending future as a woman with lots of cats, and dogs, and kids... (But probably no long-term beau, since my standards are apparently too high and I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve/want/need in a partner.)
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the future - and not just in the ambiguous and arbitrary way. It's been of the really deep, thought-provoking, oh-gee-golly-I-never-realized-I-thought-about-life-like-this kind of way. Creepy.
I'm thinking this has something to do with the flashbacks I mentioned in the last post. I'll be making soup or grilling veggies or cleaning the house or in the middle of a conversation about Irish writers, and right there, in the middle of a fully formed thought that has nothing at all to do with the oncoming memory - DING! - there's the memory. It's almost always a happy, positive memory: a Spring day 8 years ago, when I wore an outfit that made the whole school take notce (baggy fatigues that my grandfather wore during WWII, tight mid-driff baring brown cotton tank top, and black Timbs); a great date that I had with an ex boyfriend, 9 years ago; a very specific moment in the local high school's yard, when I initiated what would become my first threesome; the first time I kissed a girl; failing my first exam on purpose, just to see what it would feel like; the day I found out I had cervical cancer...
There are lots of other moments that have surfaced, astonishingly vivid and amazingly clear. I remembered details that I won't be able to recall about yesterday - smells, EXACTLY what I was wearing, whether or not someone was shaved, the color of my pedicure... It's eerie. I mean, yeah, I remember stuff. But the stuff I remember is usually either stuff that happened A LOT, or stuff with real poignancy and importance.
Not to say that the moments that have resurfaced don't have innate poignancy and importance... but they're definitely not as important as the stuff I know I've stored in my memory.
Anyway, this sort of strange glimpse into my past has made me think long and hard about my future. It's made me a lot more pragmatic about the way I handle things. For instance: Last Saturday, while talking to one of the students about what they'd like to major in, nursing came up as an option. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I've been bucking against becoming a nurse since I realized that 90% of the Filipinas I've met have been nurses, but whatevs... I've made my decision, I know my reasons, and that's all there is to it. But my student... well, she had the same idea that I did. She wasn't Filipina, but she also didn't think it was right for her, and even though this career provides financial stability and assurance of a job, she'd rather choose something else.
I surprised myself by not feeling hurt. It's not that I meant to not feel hurt, but when I realized that I didn't feel hurt by her apparent letting down of my would-be profession, I was surprised. It made me proud. Every molecule in my body truly believed that it was okay for her to pick a path that's nowhere similar to my own. And that, to an egotistical person like myself, is a huge step to shedding my skin.
Also, though, I found myself wondering if the economy would continue to falter, and if she'd be forced to join the ranks of the medical field - as I have, sort of - in order to make end's meet. I wondered if that's the main reason or the only reason that I've made my decision... And then the mother of my recently deceased godson called. She thanked me for attending the funeral, asked if I'd mind looking after her two other boys when they're in town next week, and insulted the EMTs that were first to arrive on the scene. (My godson was shot.)
In that moment, when I listened to her talk about what the EMTs should've done, I realized I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. I mean, sure, I've watched a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy, but I don't know dick when it comes to biology or medicine. If, somehow, I had been there when my godson got shot, there would've been nothing I could do but call 911 a little sooner. I'd have been useless.
The other huge reason that made me decide to go into nursing is a desire to expand my skill set. Writing is a talent and my passion, but it doesn't save lives. Not literally, anyway. I should be able to give more of myself than fancy articulations of my thoughts and egotistical analyzations of my experiences.
So, yeah... I want to adopt puppies and kittens.
I'm not really sure how I got so derailed from that thought. But, yeah. Puppies and kittens. Fo sho.
