If I wasn't a writer......that's tough because I have so many interests. Let's go through the iterations of my past career dreams. Fascinating? Well, you might as well finish. You've committed!
When I was little I probably just wanted to ride horses, likely in the circus. Then I wanted to be an archaeologist, but a summer spent at an archeology camp convinced me my allergies were too bad for any outside job. Indiana Jones must have taken allergy shots. And all that tedious dirt scraping only uncovered bits of pottery, never the Ark of the Covenant. Which is probably good because likely opening such ark would have melted my face off, if the movies have taught me anything, and my allergies were doing a bang-up job of melting my face off already. So not the glamourous life I imagined. Though I did teach myself to read and write Egyptian hieroglyphics, a skill I taught to my friend and then spent much time in high school writing "coded" hieroglyphic notes back and forth. Because we were Cool Kids. (not) So yeah...time well-spent.
Then I wanted to be an FBI special agent!! But being nearly legally blind uncorrected (and they didn't accept Lasik back then) killed that dream. Oh, and I'm quite sure there were some questions on that entrance application that I would rather have not answered.
...Which brings me to criminologist! Or a criminal psychologist--a profiler! WAY back before that shit was cool. That one held me for a long time, including minoring in criminology in college.
Secretly I really always wanted to be a writer, but that's against the rules of this assignment, so if I could be anything today, it would be....
Someone who makes things out of other things. (Do I sound like the guy from Say Anything?)
I would either be a fashion designer because I love to sew and create things, or maybe a purse designer, lingerie designer, something like that. No, I think I'd flip houses!! Not for the money so much as the fun of improving it and turning a dump into something people want. Or I'd have my own business decorating or making and selling furniture I'd salvaged, repurposed or improved. I just love that shit. Hence my preoccupation with thrift stores. I tell people it's my way of being thrifty and green, but it's really due to my selfish desire for the pride I feel when I point to something and go--hey, that was once someone's trash and now it's this glorious thing I made!
As illustration, here's a $15 iron St. Vincent DePaul outdoor table that I upcycled (<--fancy word for "spray-painted") to use in my Master Bedroom. Sorry, I haven't had time to style it yet with a candle or a small, decorative pile of books and a picture frame or something, but still--much improved, huh? :)
$15 thrift store outside table BEFORE...
Chic brass, blingy masterpiece following one can of spraypaint AFTER!
Yeah, there's that pride.
What makes YOU feel that pride? Is it your current job, the way you live your life, or maybe one of your hobbies? Leave me a comment!