I’ve always been a “someday” kind of girl, a dreamer, even at the tender age of eight, when I couldn’t wait for the day that I could work as a secretary. My stepdad would bring home old files from his office, and I’d sit in our den for hours, shuffling papers and pretending to answer a phone. (“Rockwell International, may I help you?”) I couldn’t wait to make it official. The long lunches! The gorgeous outfits! The organizing of other people’s affairs! It all seemed so glamorous.
Until the fifth grade. Then we studied the solar system and I decided I wanted to be an astronaut. This lasted for approximately three months, until I heard that astronauts sometimes drink their own pee to stay hydrated. No thanks.
I remained goal-free until sometime in middle school, when, after the launch of MTV, I decided I needed to be a rock star. If Toni Basil could eke out a hit, why couldn’t I?
But my constant love was always writing. Because I loved all things French, in high school I proclaimed that I would someday be editor-in-chief of French Vogue. (Pretty laughable for a woman who’s always been a slave to the Gap.) Somewhere along the way, writing became a hobby instead of a profession—until my early-thirties, when I left my safe marketing job to become an advertising copywriter. But that wasn’t really my cup of tea, either, so I jumped at the chance to become an editor and writer here at DivineCaroline.
Even though I love my job, I still carry around that notion of “someday.” I dream of a way to combine France, writing, cooking, and eating into a paycheck big enough to fund my life, my retirement, and frequent world travel. I don’t have the answer yet, but that’s okay; I know it will come. Half the fun of someday dreams is all the interesting stuff you get to do along the way.
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