Are you naked sittin' in a bean bag chair eatin' cheetos?

Well, no, but close. For those who aren't familiar with the title of this post, it's a line from a Ron White skit. Crass and delightful.

So I thought I had my epiphany relating to what I want to do with my life, but now I wonder if it was the rumblings of a tired girl looking forward to going back to her six-year-olds (who think they're eight). Something that I hate about democrats' economic policy is the "rob the rich and give to the poor" strategy. For instance, I don't want my hard-earned money to be taxed and given to undeserving artists or wasted on a new library when the old one still functions very well--particularly as paper circulation of books peters off with titles available electronically, now. (And how is abandoning one library to build a brand new one "green?" Just how many building materials and irreplaceable resources would we destroy for aesthetics and the privilege to call it green? To be honest, I think it's very green in its current state--it's a recycled bowling alley!)

People counter with, well what about the genuinely poor? I strongly believe that we should help the genuinely poor--those who really are physically or mentally incapable of holding a steady job. (As a bagger at a local grocery store, I saw my fair share of people paying with food stamps then having me carry their groceries to a car newer than my parents' and was once instructed not to set the groceries on the "new subwoofer.") I think that the power of deciding who is worthy and who isn't should be in the hands of local charities and not in those of big government. Seriously, we can financially support artists (and billion-dollar bailouts of private companies) but America has between 700,000 and 2,000,000 homeless people each night? That is like the entire city of Denver being turned out of their homes each night!

The post got a little more politically charged than I anticipated, but I'm still in my youth and likely to leave it.

I want to work for a charity, I think in fund raising. When I was in high school, I volunteered hundreds of hours at Deaconess-Billings Clinic. I infinitely preferred going to work for free there than my aforementioned job of bagging groceries at Albertson's. I pushed wheelchairs, took pictures of crying babies, folded gauze, and ran X-ray files all over, spending my free time talking with the terminally ill in oncology. The whole conversation is lost on me now, but I remember a comment mom made about how I could be a philanthropist when I grew up. And now, nearly a decade later, I think she's right.

Beyond that, I don't really have much insight, other than I feel relief not to focus on a high-powered job as a lawyer, judge, or doctor anymore. It feels like some day in the not-too-distant future, I might be able to have a job, husband, and family that I love. And I don't think I could ask for anything more. Well, except for maybe a bean bag chair.