Backpedaling?

This is something I will not be posting on the other blog...too many British readers. But I'll have to tell them sometime...

At my current level of determination, before another year is out, my blog may be renamed.
Here are a few possibilities:

Olivia's...

New York Nibbles
Washington Posts (no not really, I'd probably be sued)
Wilmington Wibblings
Baltimore Blabber
Asheville Articulations
Richmond Ramblings
or even
Houston Highlights

Recent events have re-inspired me to all that I wanted before I came back to the UK, only now I have a Master's degree and more work experience.
I have once again turned my eyes to the mid-Atlantic states, and maybe a bit of New England, followed by some other reasonable possibilities.
Not the midwest or the far northeast or the southwest. Can't stand bad snow and slush, or sand and bone-dry air, or being more than a few hours from coastline, for some reason.

After a 4-year hiatus, my resume is back up on the federal jobs networks...
Amongst other suggestions, I'm also trawling through a New York arts related job site sent to me last year by my friend Denise.

To my American readers: If you have any more suggestions, please feel free to advise!

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Seeing as I've been so reminiscent lately, all the jobs I ever wanted to do since I can remember have returned unbidden to my mind. When I was really little, my mother says I was noncommittal. My first memory of wanting to be something was probably in 9th grade (age 15). So let's start there and work our way up:

--translator at the UN - I studied French from grade 8-12 and then some in university
--archaeologist
--palaeontologist - as above, love doing fiddly things
--dentist - fiddly things + people
--veterinarian - always rescuing animals
--doctor - attended the Young Explorers program at the local hospital but the prospect of not sleeping for 3 years of residency put me right off

By the end of high school I was even more intense, concentrating on the sciences and considering these things:

--joining the Navy, and the Nuclear Power Program tried really hard to recruit me. I had to beg my mother on this one, though. And I wished I had joined the ROTC when I'd had the chance, instead of sitting there envying them...

When I started college with a science concentration, I worked in the biotech lab and thought I was going to become a researcher in the Houston Advanced Research Center, or at one of the many biotech firms in The Woodlands' Research Forest. I remember when the Navy-funded lab there discovered how to grow skin grafts in a dish using only one sample so that burn victims could receive their own skin. That was exciting stuff back then.

Other things I considered:
--NIH or CDC epidemiologist or something at the armed forces institute
--attending the officer training academy after a degree

At university, I soon put aside biology studies in favour of psychology until in the middle of it I realised I didn't want to be a psychologist; nevertheless, here's that list:
--psychologist
--therapist
--counselor
--organisational psychologist
Then my dad got excited about me getting into military psy ops. It was the only thing he ever nearly told me to do.

Returning to type, here was the most interesting phase I reached during my last two years of university, and I actually applied:

--all of the government and military agencies and subsidiaries which are best left unnamed
--foreign affairs officer/specialist with the Dept of State
Suffice to say, I started an International Studies minor and on one application, got to the last stage of examinations and testing before training began, and they said I should try again!
--forensic pathologist (took a criminal justice class and researched grad programs, some with stipends)
--Oh, and I nearly got into one of the NASA programs but while they could accept me taking final exams during orientation, my going off to London for my cousin's first baby was one delay too many. They were right, and I wish I had cancelled.

After graduation, working with the Houston school district psych services, I remember looking at jobs in NYC for:
--editorial assistant
--publishing house graduate training programs
And then art history jumped up and slapped me in the face and I opted for a grad degree in it, which pleased my parents, and let me tell you, they never, ever tried to make me be anything, which is probably why my list of career possibilities is so long and frustrating.

You've got to wonder why I have so often tended towards "serving my country"...

And why it has been stirred up once more by someone I need not name (American Boy), someone who mirrors so much of what I wanted to be before I came here. Added to that, the other signs are rife! I have psyched myself up to this for a couple of years, and this summer finally tipped me over...

To my English friends this sudden about-face seems against my type (the type they know), but to me it is a return to origins. In the States, I had grown up to believe a woman can do anything. I just put it aside when I returned to London and I became the English girl again. By all appearances, I had returned to my roots.

But I have now reached the point where I don't care to impress myself or anyone else with how posh and cosmopolitan we are darling. Now I just want genuine people who take me as I am, no judging, who make me laugh from the inside out, who let me be myself. I want a good finger lickin' barbecue with friends, and the option of running off for the occasional sushi and symphony downtown. I want accomplishment without pretence, success without snobbiness.

Do you know what I mean?

I knew my 30th year would be a year of change. I had no idea how much. I've heard this happens to people as they age, though.

Now, how can I compromise? Being a social/cultural chameleon is soooo tiring...