When I was seventeen...
When I was seventeen, I had a vision of what I wanted to do with my life. The vision was clear, but there wasn't a lot of substance to it, and no definition for how to get there.
I was eating dinner in a restaurant in Walla Walla, Washington with my parents. I had just received a rating of "1" on a solo competition for music (I am a flutist), and I was on cloud nine. We ate at a restaurant which I don't think is there anymore, called Jacobi's. Jacobi's was located in an old train depot in downtown Walla Walla, and the walls were brick. The building was old, but very trendy and very busy.
In high school, my favorite class was English. I was reading the beat poets, listening to The Doors, imagining my life as a hippie (even though it was the late '80s). I fell in love with this little restaurant, Jacobi's.
I pictured that when I grew up, I would own and operate a book store. I would host poetry readings (complete with stand-up bass, snapping fingers, and a general haze of cigarette smoke wafting over the entire room). At that time, espresso was not yet a big thing where I lived, but I still envisioned a coffee shop feel to the whole thing.
The vision was so real that even now, at the age of 47, I can still remember exactly what I saw. The most important part of my vision was the fact that the walls were brick. I don't know why that was so very important, but it was.
Side note - for some reason I keep thinking I am 48, and then as soon as I realize I am 47, I feel like I gained a year of my life back. I guess I'm glad it keeps happening, because I am continually feeling younger than I just thought I was.
Anyways, I eventually graduated from high school and panicked at the last minute before I went to college, therefore NOT going when I was supposed to. I got married. I had three little kids. I got divorced. I had what I thought was a decent job, and then when I was in an interview for a promotion, they asked me what I wanted from my career. I told the truth that I wanted to own a bookstore - and I didn't get the promotion (they actually cited this as one of the reasons I didn't get the promotion). I continued to think about the bookstore.
A couple of opportunities came up:
1. I interviewed for a position as floor manager at Hastings. It paid $10/hour when I was making just over that. I don't remember, honestly, if I turned it down or if I didn't get offered the job. I just remember that it didn't happen.
2. I submitted an entry to one of those contests where you write a 200-word essay in order to win a bookstore, along with a $50 entry fee. I worked on that submission for WEEKS and scrimped to come up with the entry fee. Ultimately, they didn't get enough entries and returned the money. I have no idea how I would have done. But I still wanted to do it.
3. My sister and I quit our jobs and opened a coffee shop/deli inside the local courthouse. It wasn't a bookstore by any means, but the opportunity was there at the time. We were there for two years. It was a lot of work. A LOT of work. It was hard, and it failed. It was fun, and I learned a lot, but I also left with my tail between my legs. I almost lost my house and I'm lucky I didn't owe more money than I did by the time it was done. It was rough on my relationship with my sister, and it was a very humbling experience.
When I left, I went straight into a new job that was almost a sanctuary from what I was doing. It was a corporate job, albeit as an administrative assistant, and it paid a lot more money than I was making at the café - anything would have been more, but this was also more than my previous job. My plan was to pull myself out of debt and then try to re-envision the bookstore.
Within two years or so of taking that job, I decided to go to college. I pursued a double major in Journalism and Communications. I graduated, at the age of 40, in 2012. By then I'd been promoted, and set aside the bookstore dream. I was enjoying my job. Plus, my kids were all in high school by then, and the money and stability were definitely comfortable enough not to think too far outside the box.
It's now 2019. I've been promoted several more times. I'm not in management, but I am working in an industry which is rapidly changing and I'm an expert in my field and known state-wide. I have a 401K and a retirement plan. I have a nice house which is in constant need of repair. I drive a nice car which is too expensive and all of my kids are out of the house. I am happily remarried.
What's wrong with all of that, you ask?
I'm closing in on 50 and I'm not doing what I want with my life. I can never quite shake this imposter syndrome feeling I have every day. I wake up and have to give myself a pep talk every morning. I know I sound like a whiner right now which is why I've been hesitating to write this. My husband and I talk about the bookstore all the time, but mostly when we've been drinking wine and dreaming.
The thing is, this dream has been with me since I was seventeen. I've done nothing to really make it happen. I don't want to throw away my current career, but I also don't want to wait until I'm 65 to do this thing. I don't think it's good to wait until it's "safe" to follow your dreams.
I'm not quitting my job tomorrow, or anything like that. In fact, I'm going to keep going to work and work on the projects I have going on right now. But I'm also going to research the market, write a business plan, and take a left turn on the road. I'm going to try to rein in some of the spending I do that goes along with my current salary, and work towards that dream that came from my seventeen year old self.
Seventeen year olds are loud, and bossy, and mine won't stop talking to me.
I was eating dinner in a restaurant in Walla Walla, Washington with my parents. I had just received a rating of "1" on a solo competition for music (I am a flutist), and I was on cloud nine. We ate at a restaurant which I don't think is there anymore, called Jacobi's. Jacobi's was located in an old train depot in downtown Walla Walla, and the walls were brick. The building was old, but very trendy and very busy.
In high school, my favorite class was English. I was reading the beat poets, listening to The Doors, imagining my life as a hippie (even though it was the late '80s). I fell in love with this little restaurant, Jacobi's.
I pictured that when I grew up, I would own and operate a book store. I would host poetry readings (complete with stand-up bass, snapping fingers, and a general haze of cigarette smoke wafting over the entire room). At that time, espresso was not yet a big thing where I lived, but I still envisioned a coffee shop feel to the whole thing.
The vision was so real that even now, at the age of 47, I can still remember exactly what I saw. The most important part of my vision was the fact that the walls were brick. I don't know why that was so very important, but it was.
Side note - for some reason I keep thinking I am 48, and then as soon as I realize I am 47, I feel like I gained a year of my life back. I guess I'm glad it keeps happening, because I am continually feeling younger than I just thought I was.
Anyways, I eventually graduated from high school and panicked at the last minute before I went to college, therefore NOT going when I was supposed to. I got married. I had three little kids. I got divorced. I had what I thought was a decent job, and then when I was in an interview for a promotion, they asked me what I wanted from my career. I told the truth that I wanted to own a bookstore - and I didn't get the promotion (they actually cited this as one of the reasons I didn't get the promotion). I continued to think about the bookstore.
A couple of opportunities came up:
1. I interviewed for a position as floor manager at Hastings. It paid $10/hour when I was making just over that. I don't remember, honestly, if I turned it down or if I didn't get offered the job. I just remember that it didn't happen.
2. I submitted an entry to one of those contests where you write a 200-word essay in order to win a bookstore, along with a $50 entry fee. I worked on that submission for WEEKS and scrimped to come up with the entry fee. Ultimately, they didn't get enough entries and returned the money. I have no idea how I would have done. But I still wanted to do it.
3. My sister and I quit our jobs and opened a coffee shop/deli inside the local courthouse. It wasn't a bookstore by any means, but the opportunity was there at the time. We were there for two years. It was a lot of work. A LOT of work. It was hard, and it failed. It was fun, and I learned a lot, but I also left with my tail between my legs. I almost lost my house and I'm lucky I didn't owe more money than I did by the time it was done. It was rough on my relationship with my sister, and it was a very humbling experience.
When I left, I went straight into a new job that was almost a sanctuary from what I was doing. It was a corporate job, albeit as an administrative assistant, and it paid a lot more money than I was making at the café - anything would have been more, but this was also more than my previous job. My plan was to pull myself out of debt and then try to re-envision the bookstore.
Within two years or so of taking that job, I decided to go to college. I pursued a double major in Journalism and Communications. I graduated, at the age of 40, in 2012. By then I'd been promoted, and set aside the bookstore dream. I was enjoying my job. Plus, my kids were all in high school by then, and the money and stability were definitely comfortable enough not to think too far outside the box.
It's now 2019. I've been promoted several more times. I'm not in management, but I am working in an industry which is rapidly changing and I'm an expert in my field and known state-wide. I have a 401K and a retirement plan. I have a nice house which is in constant need of repair. I drive a nice car which is too expensive and all of my kids are out of the house. I am happily remarried.
What's wrong with all of that, you ask?
I'm closing in on 50 and I'm not doing what I want with my life. I can never quite shake this imposter syndrome feeling I have every day. I wake up and have to give myself a pep talk every morning. I know I sound like a whiner right now which is why I've been hesitating to write this. My husband and I talk about the bookstore all the time, but mostly when we've been drinking wine and dreaming.
The thing is, this dream has been with me since I was seventeen. I've done nothing to really make it happen. I don't want to throw away my current career, but I also don't want to wait until I'm 65 to do this thing. I don't think it's good to wait until it's "safe" to follow your dreams.
I'm not quitting my job tomorrow, or anything like that. In fact, I'm going to keep going to work and work on the projects I have going on right now. But I'm also going to research the market, write a business plan, and take a left turn on the road. I'm going to try to rein in some of the spending I do that goes along with my current salary, and work towards that dream that came from my seventeen year old self.
Seventeen year olds are loud, and bossy, and mine won't stop talking to me.
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