The Myth of Graduating

Last Night, being the new year, I got myself thinking again:

what am I to do with my life?

and now I think

being a bookseller isn't so bad. I know! what am I thinking. but I feel I'll love it. I'm not talking about commercial bookstores but a little independent bookstore, like in a tiny corner in Paris or London. I'd be there welcoming customer's eagerly and being able to entertain all of their questions (cause I've read all the books I sell). I would wake up in the morning, walk to the store and open shop, dust the counter, arrange the various titles and read and blog while I wait for people to come in.

It would be great to own a cafe. a starbucks or coffee bean franchise with a bookstore with big spaces to lounge and read.

Or heck be a librarian of a big big library.

Honestly I think it isn't so bad. Or a bookreviewer I guess. Because, right now, I just want to go home and read a novel and tell people what I think about it or write something, anything, for them to read.

I want to be an essayist, you know, voice out opinions and hopefully guide some readers or influence their decisions/thinking. I think it would be great if I get paid to do that.

I don't like going to an office anymore. I think I've established that fact. I imagine myself having a home office, where in I try to put off work by watching TV (or do anything else than work) till the deadlines loom. That's why the life of a novelist or storyteller appeals to me.

Waking up late and still not having the draft you promised your editor.
Or just having an editor! your worst enemy or your most staunch supporter. Wow a publisher too. booksignings--yeah. And having people interested in what you've got to say.

Work just to have enough to make a living. Not own mansions or lots of money. To be able to travel a little...

I think I'm positioning myself as an artist. An independent artist. I put out creations for people to experience. I choose to create the things that I like and Not be dictated by clients.

Every work I'll do would be a labor of love.

That's the kind of work I can do for keeps.

I ramble.

What's keeping me?