When I was 11-years old, I applied to the Famous Artists School, to learn to be a cartoonist by mail. Here’s the application.
And here’s a page from the test, so you can see how much talent I had at that age. (Not much.)
[missing image]
In the end, I was rejected by the Famous Artists School because I was too young. The cutoff was 12-years old.
The interesting thing to me is why I still have the test. I didn’t save many things from early childhood. It’s as if I knew this would have some significance in the future. At that age, I was quite certain I would someday be a famous cartoonist for newspapers. I imagined it quite clearly. And when my career later took a turn toward cubicles, I woke up surprised every day that I wasn’t already a well-known cartoonist. (That is literally true.)
At various points in my life I’ve had what could best be described as glimpses of my future. For example, one day in college, I woke up in the middle of the night with a strong feeling I would someday be living in San Francisco. It wasn’t a dream, just a feeling, extremely vivid.
I didn’t know anyone who lived in San Francisco. I didn’t know much of anything about the place except that it was in California, plus something about Rice-a-Roni. A few years later, an ex-girlfriend moved there. After college, I was visiting my brother, who lived near Los Angeles, and took a side trip to see my ex in San Francisco. I ended up staying, and have lived in the area my entire adult life.
I had a similar feeling the day my coworker, Mike, suggested a name for the bespectacled character I often doodled on my whiteboard at work. The first time I heard the name Dilbert, it felt like being pulled down a long tube toward the future, getting a quick peek, then being yanked back to the present. I felt that something special had just happened.
In high school, I had a similar feeling about my future, seeing myself standing in front of large crowds of people while they listened to me speak about something. After Dilbert hit it big, I became a speaker for large events, with audiences up to 15,000 people. I did that for over ten years.
I have a few other unfulfilled glimpses of my future. One involves some sort of invention or notable innovation. The other involves serving in some sort of advisory role at an advanced age. I could be more specific about both, but I prefer not.
Has your future ever seemed to reveal itself to you?
[Note: I understand the concept of selective memory, and consider it the most likely explanation. That doesn’t make it any less interesting.]