Big Bang Theory breeds deep thoughts

So, I'm watching Big Bang Theory with the HG. Wolowitz says at one point, "I have a master's degree!". He says this in indignation when his boss very distinctly calls him "MR. Wolowitz", as opposed to "Dr.". To which his boss responds "Who doesn't?".

Yeah.
I don't.

I DO have a Bachelor's. From a New York state school that, at the time, had no admission requirements.

Here's the thing. I'm smart. I'm very smart. I'm Mensa smart. (Yeah, I'm bragging. Bite me. Don't worry, it's all downhill from here.) I'm too smart. I'm smart enough that I managed to graduate from college with a 3.something-or-other even though I never studied, turned in most of my projects late, did said projects as last minute as possible, and skipped more classes than I attended.

So, I'm smart. So? Whoopty do. Me and a million other people. Brains only matter if you're going to use them. Somehow I don't think singing the alphabet to my son while signing it counts as using my brain. It's good for him, but I have to be honest, I've known my alphabet for quite some time now.

Most of my friends have impressive jobs. Doctors. Engineers. CPAs. I have a friend who home schools her 2 boys and runs a business out of her home. I have very good friends who are not currently working out of the home but they all went to excellent colleges. My point is that I like to brag about my friends. I'm proud of them. They are all smart, accomplished women. The HG and I occasionally go out with a group of friends--all of whom have master's degrees or PhD's. They are all engineers. Of the people I spend the most time with, I am the only person I know who has only a bachelor's degree. I feel like a failure.

I am not disparaging anyone who didn't go to college, or didn't finish. I'm not disparaging anyone who "only" has a bachelor's degree.

I'm disparaging myself.

When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher. A writer. A lawyer. All three. I used to line my dolls and stuffed animals up and "teach" them to read. I wrote anything and everything I could think of--I even won some writing contests. I'd spend hours creating and arguing legal cases in my mind. Direct and cross examining witnesses. Objecting to imaginary offenses perpetrated by the opposing counsel. I often fell asleep at night giving closing arguments in my mind.

As I got older, I discovered a deep passion for cooking. Food is like art on a plate to me. It's a way to express myself without having the ability to draw, paint, or sculpt. As my love for food grew, so did my interest in the human body. I love watching surgery. Reading about and researching medical and health issues. I had surgery last year and I actually asked to be awake so I could watch. My doctor declined. Hmph. (I am, however, going to be awake for my hand surgery on Aug 6th. Woot!)

My point is, I have interests. But what have I done with them? What have I done that is brag worthy? When my friends want to introduce me, what do they say? "This is my friend Kate. She' works in insurance." "She went to a nothing college." "She hasn't done jack diddly squat of importance with her life"?

And yet, at the same time, I feel a little bad for feeling this way. I have a wonderful life. I have a fantastic son. A great husband. A cute house. A good job. I shouldn't want more. I shouldn't feel entitled to more.

And I also have equally wonderful friends who never went to college. Never worked an "impressive" job. Never did any of the things I silently yell at myself for not doing. And I love them as fiercely as I love my family. So, why do I beat myself up for something I wouldn't even think twice about in someone I love? Shouldn't I love myself as much as I love them?

Yes, I suppose I should. But I still can't help but want more. I want my son to be proud of me. I want him to someday say, "This is my mom and she xxx".

But perhaps more importantly, I want to be proud of me. Now, if only I could figure out what would make me proud of me. And damn it, I don't want to write any more of these boring, navel gazing blog entries. I'm boring myself...I can only imagine how you feel.