every time i joke about abandoning this wretched field and becoming a nurse, please take a shot. you’ll be drunk very early in the week.
i love my job.
i’m speaking of my original job, which is writing columns for a suburban weekly paper in columbus. it’s a ride on the ego train. it’s perfect. i have my little platform where i vomit 800 words without anyone being physically capable of interrupting. people read my stuff and call or write in to talk to me about it. sometimes people about the neighborhood recognize me before i’ve even met them because my mugshot runs beside my columns. i love it when people write in crazy things about how they’d like me dead or injured, i love it when people write in to say they read regularly and that i really nailed it. i love it when people become inspired and ask if they can write something for print our papers. i love watching how media is changing under pressure. i love writing for money. i love being at the bottom of the scale of the industry. (i’m closer to you, mere mortals). i am the champion.
i love my new job, or at least the idea of it. it is an alternative weekly, meaning we aren’t obligated to be a paper of record. those kids can write about anything they want. and there are smart people there who can make you sound a lot more clever than you are. it’s true. they do. i love writing about the media. i love columbus. i am the champion.
lately i’m been thinking a lot about my mother and how she spent her 20s raising me and my sister and about how lucky i am to have received a college education and to have a job where i write for a living. my mom always wanted to go to school (you still do, don’t you lady?) and i’ve been thinking about how she poured her whole youth into taking care of us, my grandpa and driving my dad’s pants to Pennsylvania, apparently.
my mom does not have a single byline or published photo or plague or trophy to show for it. no one probably has called to recognize her good deed, and i’m pretty sure she hasn’t received many letters confirming that yes, she is working and people see it. but in terms of the universe, her work means a lot more than any snarky column ever will. she wanted to be a marine biologist. or a counselor. but she served other human beings instead, with little or no recognition while being mostly taken advantage of by her family. she is the champion. she will be seated first in heaven.
so i am thinking again that it might be nice for a little while to have a job that flexes some different muscles. so i am thinking it might be nice for a while to have a job that’s a little less about me-ness and a little less about having the best product or about keeping up with (or being the first to report) the goings-on and more about serving with no public recognition whatsoever. i’m talking about shaving old man balls, here.
maybe i’m being romantic, but researching some options, it seems that school for a different occupation could be a realistic option for me. it would take 2 years and it would be about $1,000-$2,000 a quarter. it might even be in my backyard, as a tech school recently opened a branch about 9 miles from my house. i’ve racked up many hours in nursing homes and hospitals, and these people really do make or break your stay. i’ve had nurses fight doctors and police officers for me. i’ve had them wipe my ass and i’ve had them wipe the asses of my closest family members. i’ve had them drain puss from my face and i’ve helped them roll gramps over for a healthy back scratch.
i’m not really grossed out by the concept of providing comfort and relief — even if it involves inserting a catheter or two, escorting an old lady to brunch or whatever. Those things would be HUGE ego boosts for me.
hey. i’m wondering if i would be able to tear myself away from columbus and my fun ego job.
i’m wondering if i would be a terrible nurse.
i’m wondering if anyone else who is a nurse would please talk me out of it.
i’m wondering if i’d have the balls to change careers.
this morning i’m thinking ‘eh, prolly not.’
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