BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
A reader with whom I correspond regularly has started sending me getting-to-know-you questions; I’m not sure whether to be flattered or put a restraining order on hold for future use. Is this just an average Joe/Joanne who merely enjoys my writing and wonders what makes such a twisted mind tick? Or will I wake up one morning shackled to my bed by a sledgehammer-wielding stranger who claims to be my biggest fan?
I jest. This reader has confessed to being a fan, but not in a kidnapped-and-hobbled, Kathy Bates kinda way. Her questions range from whimsical – “Would you rather fly every time you pass gas or wet your pants every time you laugh?” – to sensible – “If you went back to school, what would you study?” The beautiful thing is that I can respond however I choose – poem form or pig-Latin or straightforwardly; there are no wrong answers.
I answered her latest query, “Why did you become a writer?” with this laundry list of coulda-been professions:
* I considered becoming a ballet dancer, but I couldn't pass the barre exam.
* I tried pro golf, but my performance was below par.
* So I switched to bowling. It wasn’t up my alley.
* I worked as a dolphin trainer, but there was something fishy about my boss (an ex-Marine), so I got fired on porpoise.
* I tried being a wedding photographer, but I got tired of waiting for my prints to come.
* I studied dentistry, but I couldn't sink my teeth into it.
* I worked as a bank teller, but I didn’t have much interest.
* I went into archaeology, but I didn't dig it.
* I went into carpentry, but it board me to tears because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.
* My tenure as a janitor wasn't a sweeping success, either.
* I wanted to join NASA's astronaut program, but the requirements were out of this world.
* I applied to be a nanny, but the job came with too many little problems.
* I tried my hand as a Las Vegas dealer, but it just wasn't in the cards.
* I got hired at a brewery and had high hops that this was my true calling, but I could barley stand it.
* I was a clerk in a cheese shop, but I was no Gouda at it, so I Bleu it off.
* I thought about applying to beauty school, but I couldn't makeup my mind and missed the deadline.
* I was a mail carrier, but thankfully, I was delivered from that post.
* I joined the police force, but I copped an attitude with the chief and he refused to give me another shot.
* I took a job as an elevator operator. It had its ups and downs.
* I toyed with the idea of being an Egyptologist, but that's ancient history.
So, with all other options exhausted, I went into journalism, where I’ve been told I have the write stuff. It hasn’t brought me fame and fortune, but it’s kept me in the headlines.
