Of Existential Excitement (and the lack thereof) November 6, 2008
Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , trackbackYoo hoo, my little pumpkin pies, here I am. Not that I’ve actually been anywhere. I had a week off work, didn’t go to Gozo or anywhere else, but spent it tippy-tapping away at my OU assignment. My writing meltdown now seems slightly less overwhelming (thanks to B for feedbacking and to everyone who left jollifying comments. Aw, you guys…) and I’m waiting to see what that crisis will be replaced with.
Actually, I don’t think I am having a writing crisis – it’s more of a life crisis. Mid-life, perhaps. Or too-much life. I don’t know. There’s always time for the things one’s passionate about but what happens when you’re passionate about everything? Of course, there are things I’m not so in love with… housework, being slightly lardy and spending 8 hours a day typing stuff about bits of grass. But sadly, it seems to be the non-hurrah bits that take up all the time. Hmmmmm.
The idea of toiling through an OU degree has been, for the past 10 years or so, to train as a primary school teacher. But I’m beginning to think that not liking children very much might make this a slightly dodgy career choice. And, yes, while I dream of earning my pennies as a writer, chances are I’m gonna have to do something lucrative too. But what could I be when I grow up? Any suggestions?
In the meantime, I’m studying dramatization. Play-writing. I will not let my stomach churn at the thought of trying to write words meant for real people to say with their mouths. And, if a real person would like to be in my unwritten play, please do let me know. There are only two criteria: you must have a beard and be proficient at cartwheels. Or knitting. Form an orderly queue, if you please…
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A beard? Knitting? Might be a bit tough to cast…….
Aw *blush* you’re welcome. And don’t forget that most of my feedback was telling you which bits made me giggle most!
I have been having that too-much-life crisis for years, now.
I am pretty sure I’ve met you and that you’re not my youngest sister. But this is pretty similar to her recent realisation. Better you realise now though than AFTER you start teaching small kiddies. At least you can refocus your degree/plan to do something different now instead of in three years.
A classical guitarist who sings in French to my customers of the little cafe place that I start up making cakes and tasty veggie food! Yay, we have a back up plan! :o)
(Of course I’m not sure it’s any more lucrative than writing… but hey, it’s a plan…)
A big thank you to YOU for YOUR feedback which helped me limp to the finish line with most of my body parts intact. I just wish I would get my mark already since the longer it takes, the more my expectations grow - there is a proportionate rise in expectations from the day I hand it in (’I just want to pass’) to the second before I click’collect’ on the ETMA system (’Please let me get a really excellent mark’). I too have been doing a degree with the view of going into teaching (I was thinking about teaching those big children instead which seems rather mental) but now I am not so sure. I feel too old to start something new like that. It seems like a lot of effort for something that is no doubt so much more fulfilling in my head than in reality. I think for now I will stick to the family business and make sure I sue my spare time (which I do have kind of) to do creative, lovely things.
Hope you find something that will make you happy and rich!
I want to be in your play but dammit, I can’t do cartwheels or knit. In fact my granny who taught me to knit subsequently banned me from doing it, so cack-handed was I. I am however working on growing a beard and up until now, I thought that was a bad thing. So thanks for that particular silver lining. Who do I get to play?
So are you saying we have to be something when we grow up?
Hmmm *rubs* beard thoughtfully.
xx
Ah good, you’re back, and you’ve merely been doing an OU assignment. For one scary moment there, I thought you’d been swallowed up in the madness that is NaNoWriMo.
Hi, I can’t do cartwheels but am growing a beard it seems. Something your mother doesn’t tell you is that wonderful phenomenon of chin hairs, that sprout and are wiry and hairy, yuk. However, I do knit, so where do you want me to stand?
Brilliant you’ve got your assignment done. I am now registered on my course and have just a month to wait for my first mailings *squeak*
Phew, I was starting to worry. Great to see you back and blogging.
Gimme gimme gimme a part in your play. For you Jen, I will learn to knit and acquire a dramatic stick on beard.
I am having a similar dilemma in my current job. In contrast to you, I do get to spend many hours a day doing what I love, however it just isn’t brining in enough cash, and the overheads are huge. Oh pooh!
I can knit chin hairs. Can I be in it?
Beard - check
Ability to do cartwheels whilst knitting - check
When do I start?
(PS: One of the above claims isn’t entirely true. You can decide which it is…)
Hmm. If you work out what you want to be when you’re grown up, or indeed how to work out what you want to be when you’re grown up, do let me know - I still have no idea, despite spending five years doing a PhD, and prior to that an MA and a BA. Er. Whoops. I seem to have spent a decade in higher education only to realise that I don’t want to be an academic because I couldn’t really give a monkey’s. A monkey’s what, you might ask. Well, if I knew that, doubtless I’d be grown up and would have a career plan and all that. See? I’m buggered.
Btw, I don’t think He is reading either of us anymore, so feel free to update links should you so wish.
Liz - Might be just as tough to write. Weird doesn’t come easy you know!
B - I’m very rubbish at the gee-tar. Grade VIII flute but can’t sing at the same time. Or eat the cakes. Arses. Sod it. I’ll just have to become a rich and famous writer. I can’t think of anything else.
Kate - You’re welcome - other people helped me out with feedback and we’re in this together. You’re totally not too old to change track - you’re 7 years younger than me! But I know what you mean about the reality being possibly less fulfilling than the dream. It seems you have the perfect balance right now. Enjoy it!
Loth - Beards are all the rage now. You get to be the fool if you have a beard. Sorry about that. Every silver lining has a cloud eh? (Or you could be the voice of God. Just a thought)
Lane - that made me laugh rather more than I should have during working hours! x
Cap’n Black - NaNoWriMo (or whatever) is far too scary. I’m doing ‘Your Messages‘ though. 30 words a day is more my speed. Haven’t seen you there (yet) though. You do have a good excuse, I presume?
T&C - You can have some golden knitting needles. You have to go in the corner though. Dithery Daphne is a little on the quiet side. (Oh, yes, it’s all coming together beautifully)
Hullaballooooo - Aw, couldn’t hide from my wee kilted pal for long. A stick on beard may not look authentic. You could use it as a Tom Selleck chest wig though. Or we could reinstate the pantomime horse and let him wear the stick-on beard? Money is rubbish, isn’t it? Why can’t we just be given the stuff we need in return for being a bit silly?
JJ - Ooh, yes, knitted chin hair, of course! My God, this is the stuff of Oscars (or whatever award the best play in the universe is given). I will let you touch the trophy since you knitted the props.
Tam - Is it the simultaneous knitting/cartwheeling? As Simon Cowell will tell you, it ain’t over ’til the bearded lady sings and wins Britain’s Got Talent. Oh yes. No, really. He does *actually* say that.
Earthenwitch - I think you win if you’ve taken longer to still be undecided? I may now be a little confused. A monkey’s what? See, you said I’d ask. I think we may both be doomed. Ah well. Linkage forthcoming.
Not liking children used to be a prerequisite for being a primary school teacher, so don’t let that put you off, altho’ I live in hopes the world has moved on.
I can knit very, very slowly - is that any good?
I’ll have to give the play a miss as I dont have a beard (last time I checked), knit,and havent managed a cartwheel for years. Well, not on purpose anyway.
I do a very good impression of a sheep and you can have my wool for someone else to knit. And teaching young children would be my worst nightmare I go all wobbly just thinking about it.
Teaching is a horrible difficult job. Take your flute, go forth and busk. I bet you’d make at least 50p a day in the cul-de-sac.
I qualify on all three counts, but I’m too shy to be in a play :o(
My daughter gave up doing childcare at A level when she realised she hates children. (Oddly enough she’s very good with them and is in great demand as a babysitter. How does that work?)
Anyway I think you should be grateful for being spritually wed to Mr Chegwin, and stop hankering after fulfilment.
I’ve never known what I want to be when I grow up. Luckily, I don’t seem to have grown up (just old) so that’s ok.
Honeysuckle - knitting slowly is perfect, as it is vital that, during the knitting process, no knitting is actually produced. Ugh, I had a few teachers that hated children. I have this rosy idea of filling the little sods with passion for books and music but, realistically, the whole SATS and lesson plans sounds rather less adorable. Grrrrrrr. Maybe you could knit me a new career? And some woolen placemats for B’s cafe?
Debs - Would you be impressed if I told you that I can still do a ‘crab’? No? Oh well. Accidental cartwheeling is to be avoided unless wearing stolen Heelys and under the influence of something illegal.
Sheepish - Teaching small children worse than the big ‘uns? Surely not. I hadn’t thought of writing a real sheep(ish) into the story. That’s not a baaaaaa-d idea at all.
Zinnia - 50p a day? Same rate as teaching then. Oh joy. Plus, with busking, I could catch all the rotten tomatoes the enemy throws and make it into a nourishing soup. Fabbo.
Karen - Aw, you poor shy thing, you. Is it because of the beard? Because no one would laugh, you know. Not much, anyway. I’m not sure why children like people who hate the little blighters. All part of their masochistic malevolence I s’pose. Bloomin sods.
Helen - Perhaps the trick is not to grow up at all. It would definitely be more fun. Hmmmmmmmm. *Goes off in search of the pantomime horse costume*
Oooh, I’ve got a beard, but I’m afraid I don’t knit.
Good luck with your scripts. x
I have a beard! It’s not very big - but I can fluff it up a bit for you, buy some extensions maybe… Except I’m not a great cartwheeler. I’ll have to practice.
And don’t worry about not liking kids and teaching. Hasn’t (yet) done me any harm, and more suprising doesn’t seem to have harmed any of the little nutters either.
The best thing is the holidays - you can get a whooooooooooole lot of writing done in them. And the odd glass of wine too of course…
When I was little a friend of my Mum’s asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up….I told her I wanted to be a tube!! I don’t think I’ve achieved the growing up bit (In saying that….I am toying with the idea of going back to university when we’re settled….it’s really my only chance to ever be known as mature!!!) but the tube bit….well…..
C x
Mandy - How come there are so many bearded ladies in the writing world, I wonder? It is now perplexing me. I am having a small urge to contact JK Rowling and Marion Keyes and ask them about the bearded secrets. How to win friends and influence people… and ta for the luck! Coming back right at ya!
Carol - LOL! Oh my God Carol, I love you - you’re so mental! A tube?! That is completely brilliant.
Disliking small children never stopped anyone being a primary school teacher. I think one of the points of it is you want to hurry them out of that disagreeable stage of life asap.
I tried it for a bit but then decided perhaps I’d bury myself in the French countryside instead, but was fortunate in having a husband with enough pension to do that, and being prepared (or rather not being prepared but doing it anyway) to live in a shack without a mortgage or much in the way of plumbing or electrics either.
However, a degree and a teaching qualification is vaguely useful in life, it doesn’t commit you forever to sacrificing yourself to the horrors of a career in teaching. Teaching adults was a total revelation to me, that it was possible to come away from a morning’s teaching without feeling exhausted and traumatised.
(Actually, I loved some of the kids I taught, and even some of the classes, but your reservations are not unreasonable.)
Come to think of it, quite a lot of the primary school teachers I remember had beards too, even the men…
I can cartwheel. I do one a year these days. :o)
I have a real beard … it’s a close trimmed goatee à la mode, with grey flecks in otherwise fair hair. But can easy bushy up to Capt. Birdseye proportions in time for Santa impersonations (if cushion supplied to stimulate tummy). If that’s what you had in mind. Though currently I’m somewhere around errant pirate meets kindly professor (especially with the earring).
Cartwheels, sure … so long as medical facilitates are on standby, and I’m not wearing my kilt.
I did try knitting once, vaguely attracted by idea of being able to utterly waste my time (eg, watch telly) and come out with a scarf at the other end. But it turned out to require dexterity, and giving a damn.
Anyhow, The Point is, I’m clearly a versatile character ACtor, and much better placed to serve your theatrical needs than the HullaWannabes of this world.
Hi Jen,
Why not study to become a tutor with the OU? You would be excellent for the position. That way, you could still become a teacher, but not have to put up with any kids. LOL!
Hope you are enjoying A363.
Lucy - you are very wise and marvelous. Maybe I could learn to be a plumber or something which wold be useful when I run away to France (and am skint and plumb-less). I think I will just have to be a famous something. Ugh, but then I’d have to learn to wear high heels. man, this being grown up lark is tricky.
Nez - One a year, you say? You haven’t used up this year’s yet, I trust?
McBobo - Phwoar, bring on the Bushy Birds-Eye beard! You have just rekindled my adoration of Brian Blessed. I wonder if he’d like to be in my play? He’d be very good as God. As for your role, and by way of an audition, cold you knit me some sense, please?
Marianne - Hello! You have given me an idea… I’m not sure I could be an OU tutor (far too much like hard work!) but I could run writing schools for adults… I’m thinking Tuscany, Florence, Sydney… oh yes, you are a genius! Have you seem the suntan lotion? Margueritas all round, hurrah!