Power Love

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26 February 2009


Last week, I decided I would be a cartographer. When I first had this light bulb idea, I was like, “That is such an amazingly prudent idea!” I thought cartographering would be like, sitting in an airy, sunlit room, at a long wood table, surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, armed with a monocle, studying ancient maps and somehow, brilliantly and originally, charting the evolution of the world through its geography. FASCINATING! I imagined that in addition to my highly refined map-reading skills, I would also possess an ascot. I think I might like tea as well.

Then I had a little research session, which involved the Google, and ask.com, and a map of Persia from 1932. I was so excited as I skipped through the interwebnets! Back in olden times, one could gain employment at a mapping agency and essentially receive an apprenticeship that would eventually transmutate into a glorious career as a shaper of the world.

Could this be any more exciting? I should think not! I imagined steamer trunks and cloche hats and drop-waist dresses with pearl inlay and endless hours of intellectual challenges spread out before me like a luxurious buffet. It was all too good to be true!

But my research session kept pointing me in the direction of places that used phrases like “mathematical proficiency” and “complex field” and “dominated by technology.” Where were the steamer trunks? Where was the sunlit room with rows and rows of book shelves? Finally, I saw the final blow: “geophysics.” As you know, Alert Power Love Reader, physics is my sworn enemy. I should’ve realized it would’ve been lurking somewhere near. It always is.

With my lightning-quick reaction time, I came to a conclusion: Cartography may be a field that is not for me. Do not mourn for the loss of a dream, however! I have already moved on to yet another one of my brilliant plans! This one needs a bit of work on the details, but I can say it involves Key West, sunglasses, and pink nail polish.