Jun
26
The Future is a Well Oiled Machine
Posted by: sammy | June 26, 2011 | 2 Comments
I’ve always been the girl with a plan, from A to Z I knew what I was doing and how I was going to get there.
My earliest memory of what I wanted to be when I grew up was a cowgirl. I grew up on ranches for the better part of my childhood with an array of horses. My favourite horse, and honestly, one of my best friends growing up, was an old sorrel gelding named Fleet. My parents got divorced before I could even roll over on my own, so it never bothered me. My childhood, well, lets grace over some parts and just talk about how I wanted to be a cowgirl. When you’re a kid, cowgirl seems like a completely plausible future; everything would be great. I remember I would put on cowboy hat way too big for my head and grab a rope and gallop around the house on my stick horse pretending I was in the Wild West, you know, Annie Oakley or something, killing Indians and forging the new land. Now, this is terribly ironic in many ways: I am, after all, aboriginal so all those Westerns I used to watch gave me a terrible identity complex, but more on that at a different date. All I knew, is that my dream was to be a cowgirl, riding the rodeo circuit on Fleet, cowboy hat firmly on my head and faithful dog by my side.
Well, time passed and I started to grow up. I developed a love of horrible pop-punk music and fashioned myself out to be a bad ass in a small country school. I dressed in black and wore dark eyeliner … you know I refer to these as my “dark days” I see no need to dwell on them. Needless to say, I had changed from the little girl in an oversized cowboy hat, to a girl angry at well … anything I could be angry at. During this time of my life, I was convinced I was going to be a guitarist in some band and tour the world and fall in love with a bad ass with a heart of gold. You know, the kinda guy that would ride a motorcycle, but also be nice to my grandma.
Then Fleet died. The death of my horsey childhood bestfriend was a catalyst for many things… I moved to Dawson in with my dad, and rebelled harder throughout middle school and completely stopped planning my life, until I had a talk with my grade nine English teacher. Mr. Broadley was the first person, aside from my family members, to tell me that I had a talent writing. He inspired me to start cultivating it, and maybe even make a future of it. He planted the seed that would eventually grow into what I strive for today. One could call Mr. Broadley a humdinger, ripsnorter of an inspiration.
I played with many career ideas throughout highschool, most memorable: biological engineer, politician, book publisher, doctor, and finally journalist. My utter lack of mathematical skill, lack of social grace, and my utter disgust at bodily fluids rulled out a lot of my future plans … yet one stuck with me : journalist. For a big part of highschool, when I was going through my super girly phase, I would write for Seventeen or (gasp!) Cosmo – estrogen Bibles. That changed greatly, once I realized that basically every new issue was exactly like the last, just with a different model or actress on the cover (really, 501 new sex positions? After the first 500, what’s new anymore?) I vowed never to be a Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha (well I am a Samantha, but you know what I mean), or a Miranda. Activists and foreign correspondents became my idols, not fictional women who talk about their life in Manhattan. And, in a roudabout way lead me to where I am today: Sitting at UBC, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, drinking tea and eating Cheerios.
Essentially, what I’m trying to say is that the future is a well oiled machine, it’s forever running and the gears are always turning. Journalism is my future, writing is my passion. I maybe embarking upon one of the most futile careers, but upon every hitch in my plan I think about Mr. Broadley believing in my talents and I think of where I want to go. I have a plan now, but it’ll probably change. I know I’ll always write though, in the absences of everything else in my life I know I have that much.
Comments
2 Comments so far
“Humdinger, ripsnorter of an inspiration” That guy was great wasn’t he! Good ‘ol Mr. Broadley! Love your blogs Sam!
Hi Samantha,
I’m writing an article for the Faculty of Arts about student bloggers and I’d like to feature you. If you’re interested, please let me know! What’s your email address?
Thanks,
Mary