Working in advertising was not Ives' dream. He wanted to be a serious artist, with paintings hanging in MoMA and the Met. He wanted to draw for Disney, with his creations on kids' shirts and cereal bowls. Yet, Ives has a wife and kids that he has to support, so he settles. He takes a job that pays the bills and provides health insurance and paid vacations. He never becomes Picasso.
My medical office job is a lot like Ives' job at the Mannis Advertising Agency. It started out as a part-time gig while I was in graduate school, getting my MFA. I was filling in for a woman out on maternity leave. The woman never came back. Part-time turned into full-time turned into 17 years. It wasn't my dream to have a career in the medical field. It still isn't my dream. I've settled. For my wife and kids. For stability. For a home.
I still have dreams of becoming a famous writer. That's why I write this blog every day. It keeps my dream alive somehow. I know people are reading my words. Maybe people are even being moved by what I post. I write poems and essays. I conduct writing workshops for community school programs. I volunteer to teach poetry to elementary school students.
I do all these things because to not do them would mean that I have given up. That my dreams have gone the way of the passenger pigeon and dodo. I'm not quite ready for that. I don't want my epitaph to be "Professional Clinic Office Clerk." I would much prefer "Poet" or "Teacher" or "Thinker" or "Dreamer." I could live with any of those titles.
Saint Marty doesn't want to be a dodo.
 |
| I wonder if he dreamed of being an ostrich |
No comments:
Post a Comment