Day 4 (Story time with Katie-- and pictures!)

Growing up, what career goals or dreams of accomplishments did you have?  Did any of them come to be, how many did you abandon or revise along the way?

I can't even tell you how many times I've changed my mind about what I've wanted to do in life. As a child I wanted to be many things: a scientist, a veterinarian, a famous singer, a teacher. You name it, I probably wanted to do it at some point. I got a but more realistic in high school: a singer, a fashion designer, a massage therapist, a music teacher. Heh, only two of those were reasonable choices. I did seriously look into Parsons School of Design in NYC for a while though, even had my ACT results sent there. By the end of my senior year though, it was time to make a decision. I had an important presentation to put together all about my goals and what I was going to study. "So," I thought to myself. "What do I want to do with my life?"

Me as a senior, thinking to my self.

"Well self," I said. "I think music sounds like an excellent choice." So, music it was. Half way through my senior year I decided that it was my dearest ambition to teach screaming children how to sing. Oh how wrong I was.

Blissfully unaware that I did NOT want to teach music.

So off I went to Alma College, home of the Scots. I loved Alma. I took it fairly easy my first semester, only 16 credit hours. I did well in music theory, despised aural skills, and discovered for the first time that I had a learning disability. I had an excuse for sucking at math (it's called dyscalculia, look it up). After one day of math class I called my dad crying because I had no idea what was going on. After several visits to counselors and appointments in the registrar's office and a visit to a psychologist, I got out of taking math. Yay! My problems didn't stop there, though. I discovered half way through the first semester that my learning disability also affected my music abilities.
For as long as I've been in music I'd always known I had troubles reading music, so I relied mostly on learning things by ear. However, being able to read music well is key in being able to teach music. I decided I would try to power through my problems, though, so second semester began... with 19 credit hours (a decision I promised myself I would never repeat again... until my second year of college anyway, when I took 20 credit hours). Nothing kills your social life and morale more than taking 19 credit hours consisting of music theory, two choirs, orchestra, German, aural skills, an English course, and voice lessons. Combine that with having a difficult time reading music, and you get someone who just wants to quit.
I resolved to not return to Alma unless I made it into the advanced choir that was reserved for mostly Juniors and Seniors. Well, I made it in, so when Sophomore year rolled around, I was faced with a new decision, what should I change my major to?
I had always enjoyed writing, and several people told me I was very good at it. My grades reflected this, so English became my new major. I packed my first semester full of as many classes as possible in order to catch up. Biology, Psychology, Literature Analysis, Early American Literature, Choir, Voice Lessons, and labs for both bio and psych. The best grade I got that semester was in Psychology. I was apparently terrible at analyzing literature, and I was so tired for my American Lit class, that half the time I fell asleep. All those classes on top of having joined a sorority (Gamma Phi Beta) made me so sick that I got tonsillitis three times in two months.

The only reason I survived my sophomore year.

My second semester began with the much wiser decision to take only 13 credit hours, which was an absolute breeze. I had a lot of fun second semester. I moved into my sorority house, had no early classes at all, and had the most amazing sorority momma EVER. And she was also my roommate.

My sexy momma and I.

Near the end of my second semester, I hit another bump in the road, I suddenly realized the only reason I had to return to Alma the following year was Gamma Phi. With a lot of tears and some hard goodbyes, I left Alma for good after a spring semester trip to Scotland with the choir.

I left Alma after this???

 I decide to attend community college for an associates in photography while also pursuing my old dream of becoming a massage therapist. After getting robbed at gun point while out taking photos and not being able to enter "true" Flint without having an anxiety attack, I decided not to return to college the following semester. I continued my schooling in massage therapy, finished top of my class, and got a job even before I graduated. And here I am now: Self employed massage therapist (after being liberated from that job) and a hobby photographer.

Yup.