From Mom

I have kept a sticky note from mom for years (and by years, I mean, since maybe freshman year of college).
It came rubber-banded to a pack of Bicycle playing cards and reads:

Maybe these will come in handy on those Friday and Saturday nights when you don't want to go out and lose something. 

Thanks, Mom. 

When I grow up....

I've just launched into a speech about how I don't want to be proposed to, when the woman next to us leans over and asks if he's about to propose.
He laughs. I laugh. "No, definitely not."
Her boyfriend leans over to tell her that she's rude to ask questions like that.
She tells him that she overheard us talking.
We explain the situation.
We dated. We don't date anymore. We like to eat dinner together. I don't want someone to propose to me at a hibachi restaurant, although I'm open to the ring being presented on a tuna roll. I love sushi. And theoretically, I'll someday love the man who's going to be asking for my hand in marriage.
I laugh. I'm getting ahead of myself.
They're noticeably frightened, possibly wondering if we're unstable.
They've been dating for six months. They look like nice people. I hope it works out for them.

Life, as beautiful as it can be, is also an increasingly frustrating place. When I was little, all I wanted to do was grow up, so I could be independent and successful. Now that I'm grown up and independent, I'd much rather revert to the days of endless hours in the backyard climbing trees to read books than face the prospect of struggling mightily for the rest of my life.
Struggling for what? Success. What is that? I don't know. Self-sufficiency. The end of monetary worry. An increased hatred of government involvement and taxes. I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I get there.

It reminds me of this: When all the trees have been cut down, when all the animals have been hunted, when all the waters are polluted, when all the air is unsafe to breathe, only then will you discover you cannot eat money.
They're not wrong. But to a certain extent, money is necessary for survival. Ergo, work.

Which brings me to my big news of the day: I'd like to be a family/couples/sex therapist when I grow up. (So like, now.)
This may of course be yet another passing career path, although I think this one is quite a bit more attainable than previous ones. MBA? Sounds like a great plan in theory, but in reality, I'm really not good with math. Law school? Too many damn lawyers already, but I do look really good in a suit.
And, as Ryan so kindly pointed out at dinner, it'd be great fodder for my romance novels.  (The counseling part, not the suit, although you never know...)

How did this come about?
Well, you know I get all hot and bothered about women's issues and the like. And then I was reading this Catholic blog last week (which you'll hear about at some point) that entirely misquoted a study. So Madeline tracked down the original study to find the data. And I realized that I was excited. Truly excited. Gender studies fascinate me. The social implications of sexuality fascinate me. The whole thing is really exciting and wonderful.

We shall see.