what i want to be when i grow up.

image found here.

these last few days i have spent even more time than i normally do, thinking about what the hell i want to be when i grow up. i feel like i'm the epitome of the saying "jackass of all trades, master of none", or however it goes. i don't want to be confined to just one thing for all of time, i want my filthy little hands in every single pot i can, which i have decided, is an absolute curse. paul has pretty well stopped entertaining my ideas entirely. there is only so much that kid can take. only so many times i can say "i want to do this" or "i think i figured it out". he's a simple man, who likes stability, continuity, security and a wife with a steady job. do i blame him? yes. no. does this stop me from constantly daydreaming about being a wedding coordinator? or writing a column for a magazine? or a window display designer for anthropologie? or becoming an apprentice to martha stewart? no. it's not possible. i'm a pisces for christ sakes.

now don't get me wrong. i have a job that i don't despise going to everyday, and for me, that's a great thing. that's a fucking great thing. i make money that i can't possibly shake a stick at. i work with amazing people, including my brother, and people who have become very important to me. my boss is the best i've ever had. one of those bosses who expects you to do your job as best you can, every.single.day. and so i do. not only because i have to, but because i want to. she's the kind of boss i hope to be one day. 
that is, when i am doing whatever it is i am destined to do.

and what exactly is that thing?

beats the shit outta me.

i once told paul i want to visit a psychic. not just your run of the mill, telling 'stories' from the comfort of her living room for some extra bingo money psychic, but a real life, creepy as all hell, wart on her nose, scarf on her head in a tiny little tent at a fair, psychic. i want her to gaze into her crystal ball and tell me:

 "amanda. i see a bright future for you, full of happiness, wealth, a family and a husband with a full head of hair...and yes, i see you doing what you love, you love it very much, yes, you will become                         ".

shit woman! don't shoot blanks on me now! i just want to be told what to do! 

however amidst all the confusion and craziness that is my brain, there is something that i always come back to. something that i have thought of, but pushed to the back of my mind for as long as i can remember. something that would bring everything i love into the same room, give me the ability to share it with others, and, that could make money (an important part of all this. i guess). i want to open my own shop. i want a little place to call my own. i want to sell vintage jewelry and accessories out of pretty fabric lined show cases. i want to sell cheeky, funny cards and fabulous coffee table books. i want to sell unique home decor and special little pieces that will look perfect in that special little spot. i want to sell refinished antique furniture, local art and anything else that tickles my fancy. i want to have "fleur fridays" where i pick up fresh flowers from the market, make up hand tied bouquets and sell them first come first serve. how about "treat tuesdays" where i sell a 1/2 dozen cupcakes or gourmet decorated cookies, get em' while they're hot, or you're shit out of luck. teach classes seasonally--'working with fondant', 'make your own spring planter' or 'fresh christmas wreath'. i could do that. i know i could.

and i'm not the only one who believes that. paulie does too. he thinks it would be an amazing way to spend my life. in my own little place, surrounded by pretty things, being my own boss. so why the hesitation you ask? well, when i asked him to let me go to the bank and get a loan, he said "after the babies". 

fuck. 
the babies.
i forgot about those.

i think i can swing both. i'm a woman, this shit is in my blood. so i'm going to work on this, and paulie. it will happen for me. i know it. i don't want to be gazing into paulie's crystal balls until the end of time. praying for something to land in my lap that will finally make me say 
"this is it amanda. this is fucking it". 

to be continued.