When I was at the end of high school, and starting the arduous task of looking at colleges, I had one teeny, tiny problem. What did I want to major in? The difficulties stemmed from one simple fact - I have too many interests. I like art and being creative (art major). I am good with children (teacher). I am interested in the way people think and why they do what they do (psychology). I love to write (journalism). I have a "save the world" mentality and enjoy helping people (social worker).
Considering the fact that I went to school for Art, and then Elementary Education, and I am now a nanny, I think it is fairly obvious that I chose poorly. However, recently I have come to the realization that I was definitely not meant to be a social worker.
First, Sunday night Jim and I watched a movie from Netflix. Jim picked it, and I knew it won some award, or awards, but that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge about the film. The movie was "Slumdog Millionaire". I won't say too much about the movie, in case you haven't seen it. I will just say that it incredible and if you haven't seen it, you should. I am a critic. (You notice I didn't say that I'm critical, Jim!) I love to critique stuff, and lately I've been critiquing movies quite a bit. Has anyone else noticed that lately movies just seem to be about special effects, not a good story line, or building characters?
If a story is good, I get just the teeny tiniest bit involved. During Slumdog, I was either sitting on the edge of the couch biting my nails, screaming at the screen, or hiding my eyes, complaining to Jim, "I don't think I can take anymore of this!" At one point, he thought he might have to turn it off because I was nearly hysterical. First off, the movie shows the horrific conditions that some people in India (and in other places in the world), are living in. Sad, doesn't begin to describe it. Gut wrenchingly depressing is more like it. Then, there was the depiction of how evil and greed can drive people to do absolutely despicable things to children. That was the part where I was practically on the floor sobbing, and begging Jim to turn it off. If I was a social worker, I would usually be on the floor, in a puddle of my own tears. I would be a wreck.
The second clue came a couple nights ago. While I was finishing up on the computer, Jim was flipping through channels, and stopped on a National Geographic show called, "The Girl Who Cries Blood". I'm not sure why I ever let him have the remote. I was only kind of paying attention until I looked up, and sure enough, there was blood pouring down her face, from her eyes!! Did I mention that this was not a drama, or a horror flick? This was a documentary about a teenage girl (from India, coincidentally enough), who has gone to countless doctors and has been unable to ever get answers about why this is happening. Her mother was always at her side, trying to keep her spirits up and offer support. When they finally were able to be seen by an American doctor with every possible resource at his disposal, I felt certain they would get the answer they deserved and this poor girl could go on to lead a normal life.
Instead, after doing every kind of test imaginable, poking and pricking the poor thing, who was a trooper, the doctor had no idea what was wrong with her. He had never seen anything like this before. It didn't make any sense. So what did he do? He accused the girl of doing it to herself somehow, then asked the mother if she was putting the blood on her daughter. I went berserk. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?! WHY IS HE ASKING THEM THAT?! THAT IS SO INCREDIBLY RUDE!! Yea, I'm sure the mother cuts herself, then gathers up her own blood, then pours it down her daughters face, AT ONE O' CLOCK IN THE MORNING, just because they want some attention!! WHAT A @#$ING MORON!!" I think Jim was ready to turn that one off also, just so I would shut up! When the show ended with the mother and daughter still not getting any answers I yelled at Jim, "I'M NOT WATCHING ANYMORE OF THESE SHOWS SO JUST QUIT IT!"
Maybe I wasn't meant to be an artist, or a teacher, but for my sanity and those around me, thank God I didn't become a social worker.