ХИРУРГОМ, КИШКИ РЕЗАТЬ. ТРЕНИРОВАЛАСЬ НА ТУШКАХ ПОРОСЯТ...
космонавтом ..А в школе моя классная руководительница с которой я регулярно спорила о смысле жизни говорила мне что я стану или прокурором или адвокатом..примерно так оно и вышло )))
I think my mom always hoped I would follow in her footsteps and become a nurse. Nursing is not for me; as much as I love people. So far, I'm working my way up to the job I want, which has nothing to do with healthcare.
When I was younger, I grew up in a household where my father was a draftsmen and my mother was a secretary. Throughout the years my mother's job has changed several dozen times, while my father has always been a draftsmen. He's a very mathematical man, and doesn't understand human emotions very well, as they cannot be explained by logic or some algebraic equation. Therefore when their marriage, and my entire life fell apart, he wasn't much help. I turned to art, and although my mother had several "logical" jobs (csm, secretary, appointment setter) she has always been a writer. I've read many of her poems, stories, and even the beginning of books she has. She's an amazing artist in her own way. I also grew up with a love for math, probably that mathematical side of me that doesn't understand certain things that have no logic. So most people in my family expected me to pick a "professional" career. A surgeon, a teacher, a CEO of some large company like Microsoft, after attending some university and spending thousands of dollars on a career I would basically loathe. That was the life I was EXPECTED to have.
However, when things in life began to become harder around sophomore year, between drugs, alcohol, sex, self injury, I discovered the artist side of my genes. I discovered I had a talent not many had with a pencil. I can't write, I honestly wish I could write a story that would touch someone's life and change their entire opinion about their existence. All I can do is offer someone a visual perspective they have not seen before. I spent three years of high school basically chained to the art department, and not because someone EXPECTED me to, but because I wanted to. My first art teacher was Evan Lalonde, who gave me the courage to go onto Art 2 with a sense of confidence. Which I did, I ended up going onto Art 2 GT which was taught by Greg English. Mr. English was a completely different kind of teacher and person than Mr. Lalonde, not to say that I don't respect what Mr. Lalonde taught me, I'm very grateful for all of the artist insight he gave me, but Mr. English was a much different influence on my life. I had always known that if I ever wanted to be a teacher, it'd be a math teacher, but he changed that perspective on it entirely. He showed me that art teachers a lot of time, have a much harder impact on your life than a calculus teacher may have. They understand the thoughts and processes that go into an artwork, and see your struggles and your accomplishments much more than any kind of teacher. For him, I decided to become an art teacher. And I can honestly still say that there is a part of me that would like to go back, and get my teaching degree and bachelors in fine arts and teach art in a high school setting. All through senior year he pushed me to strive for my dream school, Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, MD. I had no faith in myself, and although I desperately wished for a year and a half to be granted admission to the top 5th art school in all of the United States, I never would have dreamed that my acceptance letter would've come on that fateful February day. I was accepted, and I was to begin my freshman year of college in August of 2009. That was a year ago this month. After spending the summer away from that environment however, I quickly discovered that although art was my chosen field, I was fitting the mold that everyone in my family had set for me. I chose a logical "professional" career as a teacher.
I had spent plenty of time surrounded in the tattooing industry, between dating a tattoo artist, to getting several of my own. When I went into the shop to discuss my second tattoo with my tattoo artist, I never would've thought the feelings that emerged would ever have taken place when I walked into that shop. I felt at home, like this was somewhere I was meant to spend the rest of my days. I decided that day, that the path my family had carefully planned out for me, was not for, instead I was meant to spend the rest of my life tattooing beautiful art onto other people's bodies. In retrospect, I still work day in and day out working on flash, and trying to find apprenticeships since I am still a very young FEMALE looking for a tattooing position, but I still love it. I love the sound of the gun, the smell of green soap, all of it. And I may be working a dead end job to get there, but I will one day.