"I want to major in
English, and maybe
computer science."
"So you want to be a teacher, eh?" Mr. Barry, my guidance counselor, a man with a scarred face and I still can't remember if he seemed honestly like he gave a damn or not.
"No. I don't want to teach High School kids."
"Grammar School, then?"
"No. No teaching children. I want to write." I could see the horror, there. I had only recently come out as a writer. I had given up acting dumb, and I wanted to do something I love.
"Well, maybe you should have a back-up plan."
Huh? Going through my own life assuming failure? "No, that's all right."
"Perhaps a community college would be a good idea . . ."
But I wasn't listening. I had, roughly, this nasty epiphany:
Those who have abandoned their dreams will discourage yours.
and this:
No one dreams of being a guidance counselor.
And we trust our children's future to such people.