it's halloween and i'm scared silly.

No vampires or monsters in this locality: just the terrifying spectre of the Meta-Goals Statement (eeeeeeeeeee). I mass-e-mailed a while ago with news about my new aging traineeship. Well, the first step once you're in is to assemble a mentoring committee - check - and write out your career goals. Um, not check. Frozen state of trepidation. Still, I had to discuss it with my mentor this morning, and never anticipated sitting there heart racing, clicking and unclicking my pen for over an hour.

I can handle concrete goals, like number of publications and conferences per year. But articulating what my life will look like in 2016? Can we not think about that? I can't say whether I'll have a family then or even a boyfriend, much less discuss maternity leave with someone whose role in my life is unmistakably a little dad-like. Not that I don't appreciate the guidance - I really do. It's just staggering to think about this stuff. Nattering away to my friends is one thing. Sharing my ideas with someone who'll help me fulfill them is another. Because for the first time in my life, I'm aware that whatever I want to do, I can do it. I have everything I need. That's unbelievably cool, and pretty daunting. I'm conscious this is a serious blessing. So I'd better do right by it, and choose well.

I've felt a growing pull toward mental health and cognition disparities among older adults. I think this is the perfect area for me to do meaningful clinical practice, research, and - this is what's nagging me - public service. As much as science turns me on, service and caregiving is my thing. It was hard to come out with that to my tenure-track, research-minded mentor, but he seemed to understand. So much so, he pointed out that I'd probably benefit from a second Master's in Public Health. Which is conveniently offered in conjunction with my PhD.

And here's where I yell: Wait! How far is this going to go? I like working, I want to do something meaningful, but I also like sleeping til noon, going to the beach, noodling around on the internet reading crass and pointless stories. I like playing with animals, eating cookies, making out. I'm content watching moss grow, or at least watching Shaniqua stalk non-existent animals out the back window. And that is a good life too. So where do I decide enough is enough?