Thursday, May 20, 2010

If I were a man, I'd donate my sperm.

One of the sundry "ETC" type job postings on craigslist I encounter repeatedly is for egg donors. At $5,000 or more a go, it's tempting to consider syringing up with hormones to give would-be moms and pops their fair shot at parenthood. I only hesitate for two reasons: 1) I'm now out of the ideal egg donor age range, and 2) My own resources are finite.

Wouldn't I know? Every time I turn on my computer I'm repeatedly assaulted with stories about how all of my shiny, healthy academic-superstar-future-leader type eggs parachuted out on a suicide mission the very second I turned 30----and all that remains are a motley assortment of future criminals, bored, flatulent dysphorics, and Sarah Palin fans.

We all know how scare tactics tend to nudge us into one mindless life choice after the next, so I'm learning to filter out these stories. What's the moral anyway? The audience to whom these messages are directed won't exactly find this "advice" helpful, as they are either ambivalent about having children, lack the means to support a child, or are facing an array of unsavory relationship options. All poor circumstances for considering the weighty matter of parenthood.


Most women know that *supplies are limited,* and that what we give up just won't be comin' back. I'm going to hang on to the rest of my batch of little miscreants just in case. ;)

Not so for men. Not so.

Men have the remarkable ability to produce all the wish-fulfilling procreative awesomeness they need to make a needy couple/person happy. If I were a man, I would donate my sperm. Consider this: The average sperm bank pays $100 for each "contribution." So, this could be a tidy little source of commission-based income that won't dry up for a long, long time. Far more importantly, with minimal effort, you have the ability to alter the course of somebody's existence for the better. Think about that! Most of us spend ages trying to figure out how we can impact the world, make it a better place. You can Chloe, Jason, Max, and Lulu your way to a better world with a flick of the wrist. Woot!

Yes, I know that I just do-si-doed around some serious moral issues. What about if the kid wants to meet you when they turn 18, etc, etc. Well, in the U.S. you can still opt into anonymity, but that wouldn't be very sporting, would it? Look-----how bad could it really be to meet some of your donor progeny? Most likely, it would be one of the coolest things that ever happened to you. Meeting somebody with whom you share biological material past the point of having to: A) Change their diapers. B) Pay for their braces. C) Weather being told that you're hated repeatedly during those rocky teen years. No, I'm not promoting some weird version of negligent, Lucy-goosy "parenting" with a few fringe benefits. Rather, the child would be unlikely to perceive you as a parental figure (we all know A,B, and C is the stuff parental bonding is really made of,) but somebody of great interest with whom they share common features and personality traits. At the risk of revealing my patchouli-scented roots, I have to say----would it not be terrific to encounter one more person that you

Also, this is one way in which you can fulfill your biological destiny of seed-spreading without leaving a trail of angry ladies, hostile children, and assorted child support checks. Instead, put your emissions to use, good man, by spreading joy to ladies and gents who are really darn committed to being parents. The likelihood that your sperm would go to a scary Octomom-type is relatively slim. Oh, the power you hold in your hands.

I rest my eggs.

Monday, May 10, 2010

The windy road to entrepreneurship

This marks the second week where I will be working at 80% time. I'm finally ready to launch my private practice. I've been dreaming of this day ever since I was a wee graduate student anticipating all of the interesting little projects that I would cobble together into a robust full-time career, as opposed to a dull, predictable full-time job.

Since then, my career path has been surprisingly---ahem---steady.

One of the exercises I love to do with clients is to have them develop a career/family genogram. One of my mentors developed this very applicable tool. Us career counselor types use it for getting to the bottom of how the career choices of one's family of origin and ancestors might've helped shaped our client's ideas about career.

So it goes without saying that my own family is full of teachers, government employees, and folks who work for "stable" private companies.

Very few entrepreneurial types dangling from the branches of this here family tree.

I was having a discussion with my cousin about how difficult it is to know where to begin when one has the germ of an idea, ample motivation, and gripping fear about taking the first step to implement said idea. We both marveled at the fact that many of our friends, and significant others, etc, seemed to approach entrepreneurship fearlessly. Most of them have parents who just....well...did it.

So that's what I've decided to do. I'm going to hang my little shingle and market, market, market. Because from what I understand, marketing makes up the bulk of what I'm going to have to be doing for the next, oh, 5-6 months or so, anyway. Fine by me. As I often ask clients, what's the worst that could happen? There's so much to gain, and so precious little to lose. Pride is overrated. Pride keeps us tethered to activities which we've already mastered. Constantly letting ourselves be absorbed into the fog of possibility is what nurtures growth.