In a parallel universe...

...I think I'd like to be an agony aunt.

I know that's a completely out there statement and you're probably shaking your head going 'huh?', but it's true.

And I also know that it's more of a British term than a North American one, but it's the best that I can come up with right now. So for those of you who don't know what I mean, allow me to explain.

An agony aunt is the person you write an anonymous letter to asking for advice. You see them in Cosmo and online and in the papers...all over the mainstream media. You read them with glee, happy that whatever's happening to said anonymous person isn't actually happening to you. And you wonder who actually writes these things.

You see, I like to believe that I'm pretty darned good at giving advice.

That's right, I said it.

No evidence other than anecdotal to prove my point, but I like to think that a) I'm a very good listener and b) I have a knack for sussing things out and coming up with potential solutions. Ones that could actually work. Improve a situation. Make you feel better.

And as I'm sure you can surmise, I enjoy writing, the clever turn of a phrase, so I wonder if agony aunt isn't actually the perfect career path not taken for little ole me.

Hmmmm....

I wonder where I'd even start researching openings for this kind of job. I can see my sarcastic self writing a letter to the editor that goes something along the lines of:

Dear Editor,

I've got a good job and a great husband and a nice house and a few kitties but despite all that, something's missing. More than anything, I crave an outlet, an opportunity to help those with seemingly inane queries make it through the day. Are you looking for me? Are you the answer to my mid-career crisis? Please help me figure out how to make my agony aunt dreams come true.

Signed,
(wannabe) Auntie Diva

Unfortunately, I don't think it would fly.

Snap.

It's funny, most of us are actually quite shite at taking our own advice. So when something comes up in my life that requires deep pondering, I often phrase the issue as a letter to a Dear Cosmo type folk for the answering.

Upon second thought, Dear Cosmo is a little out of my age bracket lately. Long gone are the days of my-roommate-macks-on-her-boyfriend-while-I'm-in-the-room-and-they-think-I'm-sleeping,-whatever-shall-I-do? laments. My personal blend of agonies have matured as I have.

Lucky me.

But seriously, sometimes phrasing whatever's got my brain a stewin' in a silly, advice seeking form really does help to put things into perspective.

Now if only I could find a way to translate my little hobby into something that paid the household bills.

THAT would be some super useful advice.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?