What dreams are made of: Last Kiss
I work with a girl who, whenever we have not-at-work time, repeats the phrase "Yah, I just don't know what I want to do with my life." We talk about how everyone we know is content with leaving their work at work. You can do that with copy editing. You can walk out the door after your 7.5 hour shift and go home and not have to consume yourself with commas and dangling modifiers, unless, of course, that's your greatest passion and all-consuming desire. I've always been passionate about editing, but I think it's because it comes naturally. It isn't, however, my greatest desire. This girl I work with always says, "I want something that I'm passionate about, that I CAN'T leave at work." And I agree. She asked me tonight, "So ... you don't care where you end up anymore? You don't care if you don't know anyone where you go?" And I answered, "no." Sure, I'd love to go someplace with a built-in social circle so I don't feel tired and idle as I do here, but what's the point? How do you learn to make do? Things fall into place, they always do.
Anyhow, she's like a verbal echo of what goes through my mind every day. "I want something that I'm passionate about, that I CAN'T leave at work."