Went through an existentialist crisis a week or so ago. Friends of mine were falling ill with cancer and heart attacks and we are not even 30 yet. So went berserk and all freaked out about the fragility of life and how oblivious I am of my mortality. Super-size that with an obsession with saving the world, dubbed God or superhero complex. During that time, I seriously contemplated quitting my day job and taking a job in development. You know, the cliche cinematic type of development, where your roll up your sleeves, stand knee high in flood water and move food and medical supplies, or where you relocate to remote locations for months at a time teaching young girls about financial independence and boosting their morale. So on and so forth.
So, I went on a search for NGOs in Egypt, those who called back did because the thing that jumped at them off my CV wasn’t my education or work experience, instead it was the book, I was a writer. To them that spelled “text bitch” to quote Tales From The Hood. I was someone they could hire to write proposals, status reports, white papers and what not for all stakeholders and relevant parties. They would hire me to do development, but not in the way I dreamed of doing it. They would hire me to utilize my skill set in the best possible way for the greater good. How’s that for a cliche mouthful?! Basically they would hire me to write and apparently, according to the post below, that’s not that bad people.