new year's resolutions

Like most people, I write about ten resolutions every New Year's and then fulfill two of them.

I can't find my list from last year, so that tells you how seriously I took those resolutions. But I do remember writing "finish master's degree" on there, and I think I wrote "find a job" as well. So, there you go, two resolutions completed! Go me!

Resolutions matter a little more to me now, though, as I contemplate 2012. I'm not in school anymore, after so many years of no break, so I don't have those regular deadlines and expectations to keep me accomplishing things. I've got to figure out my own way to keep progressing. 2012 also marks the end of the world, so it seems like a good year to try to keep your resolutions.

I don't want to start too big, however, because that's setting myself up for failure. Instead of writing ten resolutions, then, I'm going to write just five. It increases each goal's odds of landing in one of the two elite goals-that-will-actually-be-accomplished spots. So, without further ado, here are my resolutions for 2012:

1. Read my scriptures in the morning.
2. Read two books a month just for fun.
3. Write something creative everyday.
4. Exercise three or four times a week.
5. Go to Europe!

I feel strongly that Europe will make it to the top two. Exclamation points are so motivating.

when i grow up

So, I've been wondering . . . when do you know you've become a grown-up?

Is it when you finish college? Is it when you get married? Have kids? Start a career? If it's those items, then my score is win, fail, fail, and . . . half a win?

This past week, as a part of my new job, I signed up for my own personal health insurance. At twenty-six years old, I finally have a full-time job with benefits. Yes, big moment. But, as visiting faculty, I am not at the beginning end of a long career. My contract will be up in a year. I still need to think about what's next and my life definitely still feels (somewhat) wide open.

I remember when I was about thirteen or fourteen, we had a substitute, Bro. L., teach our Sunday School class. Bro. L. was a lawyer, and he wanted to get to know us a little by asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up. My classmates mumbled things like, "Um, I'm not sure," and "I think I want to be a nurse," or "I'm going to be a dentist." We were in middle school, and no one was very confident with their answers. When it was my turn, I said, "I want to be a mom."

Bro. L. wasn't satisfied by this and said, "Well, what else do you want to be?"

"A teacher, I guess," I replied. But I was a little offended. Was being a mom not good enough? I mean, really, if you can't say you just want to be a mom when you're sitting in a Mormon church, where can you say it?

I'm not offended by this anymore, however. I realize now, more than ten years after this incident, that not everyone graduates from college pregnant with a second child like my mom did, and so Bro. L. was perhaps right to ask what else I wanted to be.

I'm glad I became a teacher.

But, oddly, I still feel like I don't have an answer to the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" (Okay, I do have an answer, and it's still, "I want to be a mom." But, again, I hear Bro. L's voice, "Well, what else?) I figure, maybe it's okay that I'm still not completely certain because in a shaky economy, I'll probably get to move around a bit job-wise, even if I won't change careers seven times in my life.

Over the past few days, I've been mulling over the options.

1. I could head off to graduate school next fall, pursue a PhD in rhetoric and composition, and become a professor. This is a path that makes sense, and likely a path I'll end up following.

But here are my other recent ideas:

2. I could be a librarian! I would love to work at a school, or, even better,  at a city library where I could read books to kids who sit in rapt attention in a circle around me on a soft, plush carpet. (Yes, I know this isn't what librarians do all day . . . or maybe at all.) Simmons College even has an awesome program where you can pursue an MLS and a MA in children's literature at the same time. Google, however, told me that the prospects for librarians aren't much better than the prospects for academics. So, . . . on to my next career idea.

3. I could be a farmer!

Yes, I'm serious.

(When I told my sister the other day that I wanted to be a farmer, she laughed at me.)

But, I mean, really, wouldn't it be awesome to be a farmer? When I was nine and obsessed with horses like almost every other nine-year-old girl on the planet, I wanted to be a farmer badly. I sort of really wanted to marry a farmer too. (And, yes, the Little House series were my favorite books growing up--see previous post.)

I could be part of the young-hipster-sustainable-organic farming movement, and I could make delicious food from my farm, maybe open a cafe, learn how to can food, set up a booth at the farmer's market every year, sell my food as part of a co-op. I could have chickens as pets! What could be better?

Okay, maybe I'm romanticizing it a little, but, really, I kind of actually want to do this.

4. The only other option I came up with was: I could be a writer for children or young adults (again, re: I want to be Laura Ingalls Wilder). I've wanted to do this since I was young. But 1) it's hard to get published and 2) I'm too scared to let anyone else read my writing and 3) I'm not a very good writer. So I'd have to overcome a few obstacles, but hey, it's an option, right? I mean I was educated in the same English program as Stephenie Meyer, so I've got that going for me. (Ha.)

If only I weren't an idealistic English major, I might be able to come up with something that has the potential to actually make some money and have some security. Hmmm.

I could be an . . . an . . . accountant? (I keep thinking of that line from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, "An accountant. According to the word, it must be a cross between a counter and a mutant.").

And, then, when I start my encore career, I can be a farmer who writes kids books. Right?