fter spending the last six of my 28 years trying to figure out what to do with my life, I've come to the surprisingly depressing conclusion that I can do anything I set my mind to. The real problem here is that I'm unable to set my mind to anything for very long.

Yes, much like a young child flitting from guitar lessons to soccer camp, or your crazy aunt getting totally into Reiki and then free form, organic textile production, I tend to change my mind a lot.

2001 – I'm going to be an artist! Fresh out of college with a valuable degree in painting, I am completely prepared to support myself. Taking a part-time job selling Israeli art for the home, I feel totally immersed in the art world.

2003 – Having amassed a good deal of credit card debt in the previous two years, I realize the time has come for a full-time job. What better job for me than fundraising at an agricultural nonprofit? I don't know anything about farming or fundraising, but I bet I'll make crazy money.

2004 – Fundraising isn't fun, and farmers are depressing. I should totally write and illustrate children's books! A combination of art and writing is the perfect thing for me.

2005 – After producing three books, but before getting a chance to call publishers, I get distracted when I'm approached to record the narration for a documentary about the quarter-life crisis phenomenon.

2006 – With a documentary and a few public service announcements under my belt, I feel I've left my mark on the voice-over world and turn my attention to developing my crocheted hat business.

2007 – Taking into consideration the price of yarn and the time spent making them, my hats cost around each and don't sell well. I know, I'll work at another agricultural nonprofit!

2008 – I realize once again that maybe the farming scene just isn't for me. I contemplate careers in nutrition, graphic design, culinary arts, refrigeration, computer aided drafting, elementary education, exotic dance, erotic massage, and Reiki.

I've consulted professionals (one professional), read books (two chapters of a book), and searched my soul (scanned it briefly), but I can't for the life of me figure out what path I should take.

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I blame the feminist movement for putting me in this position. I would have been perfectly happy popping out a few babies and cooking pot roast for an unappreciative husband while I lamented the life I could have led and all of the wonderful things I could have done.

As it is now, I've got no excuses.