Wednesday, February 25, 2009

"No I'm not colorblind, I know the world is black & white..."

Describe your ideal position or career objective.
Who really does that? I mean, who really asks this type of a question on a job application? Well, an employer that's trying to get to know what you want, I suppose. But how can I realistically fit my ideal career position objective in the little white box they gave me? First off, that's way too many words. Just seeing it caused me due panic, like when he asked me what my goals were for the next ten years. I hate questions like that. Does that question really even represent what I want, or what I think I'm supposed to want?

When I was in the tenth grade, and my teacher asked us to make goals, I remember what my plans were: within five years, I thought I would be maintaining a 4.0 GPA at Spelman College, and within ten, I planned to be doing my residency at someone's prestigious hospital in someone's trendy little town, while still managing to shove a poetry book publication in there somewhere. Considering the fact that my plan was chronologically unrealistic (and so telling of my fifteen year old vision), I'm so glad it never happened. It wasn't meant to, of course, but my point is, the entirety of that "goal" I set up for myself was based on what I had come to believe I was supposed to want. At that time in my life, the desire to attend an HBCU was already fading, but not faster than my desire to be a doctor. I thought I wanted to be a doctor for the opportunity to work with kids, but after working for a summer in my doctor's office and discovering that all sick children do is A). vomit, B). cry, C). vomit, I realized I really wanted to be a doctor for all the wonderful prestigious-ness.

the Beemer. (which at the time, I imagined would be silver.)

the white lab coat with my name emblazoned on the front lapel pocket, with the stethoscope hanging out of that same pocket.

the name. the way it would make my fucking name sound. (Dr. Malorie J. Marshall-insert last name of my prestig-y husband.)

In reality, I don't want to work in anyone's office, and I don't want anyone's kids throwing up on me. (at this point, I'm not completely sure I'll ever be ready for even my own kids throwing up on me.) I just wanna travel--to see as many sunsets as I can before my clock's ticking stops. I just want to roam without being afraid of what's gonna happen to me. I want to sit on a rock on the beach in California and watch the surf. I want to ride the subways in New York (again) except this time, write the whole time, bumps and stops accounted for. I want to run through a field in Italy with wild abandon... you know, that kind you see in the movies that looks like it feels so good.

I just wanna write. That's it. I wanna write until my fingers cramp the fuck up and I can't stretch them across the keyboard anymore. I wanna write until I've drained all the ink out of all my pens and I can't find any more. I wanna write about every man I ever love, fuck or like. I wanna write every time an idea flashes across the reader board inside my mind.

I just wanna listen. I want to hear people's stories and share in their pain, in their darkness, in their realizations. I want to commiserate over the hardships of life, and revel in the acknowledgement that life is not hard, and it is not easy, it simply is. I want to hear the things that people don't want to say. I want to hear the truth.

I just wanna love. I've always wanted to love. I have loved. I still want to love. I want to love fiercely loyal. I want to love so much that it hurts...and feels good. I wanna love so much my heart just bursts with joy. I want to love selflessly. I want to love the entirety of someone, someone good, someone real, someone right, someone for all time. I want to love someone and get married; have their our babies. I want to love someone so much that I never get bored with them, and I never come home from work and nag them about stupid shit like where my air freshener is. I want to always smile when I see them. I want that Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee treatment: until death do us part.

So, after three years in college and more than a half of a year in the "real" world, I still don't know what my "career objective" is. Well, I do. But it will never fit in a little white box, and it won't make sense to most. To most, it makes me look lacking in ambition, too romantic, unfocused, maybe even childlike.

But, fuck what you heard. I want to travel; see as much of God's magnificent Earth as I can. I want to write, about any and everything I can. Above all, I want to love until the end of time. The end.
My career objective is to be a doctor/be a teacher/garner my Master's degree/relocate to the North/move overseas for a year/be a supervisor impact someone's life. If even just my own.

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