Lofty little goals
I spend so much time trying to map out my career, and yet I don’t give much thought to all the *fun* stuff that I want to do. In addition to having a fulfilling (read: quasi-lucrative) career, here’s some other stuff I need to do, while I’m on this carousel-ride called Earth:
1. Take singing lessons;
2. Teach classes on writing, P.R., and whatever else I want to do;
3. Find time/inclination to return to writing my books and poetry;
4. Get my ass out to the shooting range and learn how to fire a gun;
5. Either maintain a journal again or really start pouring my heart into this blog;
6. Learn web design better than my amateur-at-best level;
7. Master graphic design software (again);
8. Read more books;
9. Read the magazines to which I subscribe;
10. Acquire a dog and/or another cat (oh, Maddie would hate that);
11. Have more sex. Or some sex. With anything not requiring a battery; and
12. Donate some eggs.
The egg thing has been on my mind lately — I may never settle down and have kids, or it may be a long ways away, and I’m impatient. Look, right now, I wouldn’t be such a great mom, but I heartily believe that it is my womanly duty to produce at least one good citizen to contribute to this warped world. If I donate my eggs to a fertility-challenged couple, I can ensure that will happen (assuming they are sane and wanting a munchkin for all the right reasons). Plus, it would give me some desperately needed cash, but let’s face it, if I am donating these precious eggs, damn it, I am going to use the money and take a freakin’ vacation, in exchange for my efforts. I don’t want my eggs going to cover my late car payments — I’d better ENJOY the money I acquire from having a syringe stuck in an ovary.
On the other hand, I have been half-seriously debating the thought of donating eggs to specific donors — i.e., maybe a gay couple who frankly can’t have a child without a woman. I think I could carry a child and give it to a stable, familiar home. I’d prefer to not be the carrier, but I guess I could do it, for the right people. Like Shan says, we’re meant to change the world, not change diapers. Maybe I should pop out some of those “good citizens” that I owe the world, and leave the rearing of them to people who are more capable of doing it. But can I give up drinking for nine months, while a little creature incubates? Hmm. This subject matter is waaaaayyy too heavy for the present moment, but I hate to say it, it’s not a half-bad idea for me. But in the meantime, I am SO firing up a cigarette and grabbing a glass of wine. …