GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #46: PATHS NOT TAKEN

I've wanted to be a professional writer for so long, I've completely forgotten what I wanted to be before that. I've always known I would need a day job, but what was my path before I went down the road that would lead me to STRIP, TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE, POOR BASTARDS AND RICH FUCKS and all the other projects I have waiting in the wings to be released?


I've been thinking about it a lot because, as I'm sure some of you have noticed, I'm not happy with my day job right now, for reasons I may someday publicly talk about. I look at all these smooth motherfuckers who make a living by creating their own jobs, which has its appeal, but I wonder if I would be able to live with myself. I could, for example, be a self-help guru. I help a lot of writers. I give fairly good advice. I think I could make a pretty penny at that.


But it wouldn't be my rightful calling.


Or how about being a "professional friend" or cuddler? You know the people who rent themselves out to other people who don't have friends. They hang out and pretend, and for a while the customer is happy. Or those people who throw cuddling parties. I think I could get into things like that.


But neither of these things would be my rightful calling.


When I was in junior high, I wanted to be a scientist for my day job. A biologist, in particular. I learned I had an aptitude for it. Science class was the only class I ever looked forward to. I got a kick out of the experiments we did. Would I have ever been a great scientist? Probably not. I could probably have made a living as a mediocre scientist working for a great scientist.


That might have once been a calling, but it wouldn't have been satisfying in the end. Who wants to just be good enough at something?


I think I'm stuck with dead-end jobs for the time being. But I still think about those paths not taken. I hope quantum physics is right about alternate universes, because I know that somewhere in existence, I'm a scientist. Or a self-help guru. Or a professional friend. Or a cuddler. And I think it would be fascinating to meet all those other versions of me.


Who knows? Maybe one of the me's in the multiverse is a bestselling author.