Oprah talks about finding your passion — or so I’ve read in the popular magazines.
Okay well, I’m not Christiane Amanpour. Twenty-year old me dreamed of being a journalist, reporting from far-off lands, the wind whipping through my tousled hair as I did my stand up from the current international hotspot. I did get into J-school. Graduated even. Did I mention I now work in the deadly serious world of PR?
Mind you, current-aged me couldn’t bear an international hotspot — I get stressed in a crowded nightspot. So things worked out for the best.
Now I’m looking for my new passion. Not for now, but for my second career. I’ve settled on interior design. If subscribing to 20 house-porn magazines is any indication — I think I have an interest. Drooling over Ligne-Roset cinched it. Maybe they’d hire me to work in a retail outlet.
But where does that leave my comedy writing for a talk show or my book tour?
Ah well, too many passions — and I’m just a prude.