Back Then you could have said you wanted to be a Secret-Agent-Superhero-Spy-Robot and it all would have seemed possible. But, when you're twenty-something and you finally realise that the Secret-Agent-Superhero-Spy-Robot-Man domain is REALLY hard to break into (and let's face it, you just don't have the credentials), then the question "What do you want to be when you're grown up?" is a kick in your little unemployable baby-face.
As a child, I never understood why adults didn't follow their dreams. My dad wanted to be in the army, and my mum wanted to teach little African kids about Jesus. They settled for marrying each other.
There are only two groups of people my age who know what their jobs will be in five years. One group is the ostensibly smart but usually very drunk set of individuals that study medicine. The other group has their occupation on Facebook listed as 'full time fucking mummy!!' and the hardest day's work they've done in their lives is filling out their forms for cold weather allowance.
"So, what are you going to do when you graduate?" ask uncles, old teachers, my mum's mate Sue, and that little voice in the back of my head I silence with Cadbury Chomp bars and 2-for-£5 bottles of wine. I have no answer. My answer, truthfully, is that I want to be a writer. But I can't tell people that (especially not if they've read my writing) because that's like saying my life's ambition is to be poor and toothless.
I have 6 months left at university, and I am beginning to feel a rising panic at the proximity of the fabled, ferocious Real World. I am at the time in my life where I have to actually start thinking about the future, and getting a real job, and paying off student loans, and getting up before 1pm and shit. Shit.
However, despite this rising panic, I probably spend more time answering the question "What do you want to be when you're grown up?" than actually, y'know, deciding-what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up. And I'm willing to bet you do to. And I'm starting to wish that we could just be honest.
Whilst the vampyric population of Sunnydale has dwindled since Buffy blew it up back in 2002, I'm fairly sure vampires still thrive in the rest of the world. I consider it my duty to protect the naive masses who believe vampires are harmless and sparkly, and that the only reason they're in hospital for blood-loss is because they've been stabbed in the neck by a barbecue fork. And I want to do it whilst wearing super cute mini-skirts and knee high boots.
Able to Afford More Than Potato Waffles and 68p Lidl Cranberry and Raspberry Juice Drink for my Dinner.
Most people define 'rich' by the cars they own or how many small European nations they can fit in their kitchen. Not me. I just want to be able to afford grapes.
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Able to Dance.
I want to figure out a way to dance that isn't just regurgitating the song's lyrics in sign language form. You know what I'm talking about. This is seriously how I dance. And it needs to stop. Now I know we're all guilty of the Hey-I-Just-Met-You-And-This-Is-Crazy-But-Here's-My-Number-So-Call-Me-Maybe hand gestures, and of course, no one born in the 90s isn't guilty of the Reach-For-The-Stars-Climb-Every-Mountain-Highers, but I'm talking some serious moves. Some literal dance moves. The song says 'I'? Point at your eye. It tells you stumble out of bed and tumble to the kitchen, poor yourself a cup of ambition? I'm on it. It tells you to die young?
Well, let's not go there.
A Person That Can Do One Of Those Cute Little Messy Buns On Their Head Without Looking Like A Sumo Warrior.
For real. I mock these bitches.
BECAUSE I WANT TO BE THEM.
Miley Cyrus' Best Friend And Personal Confidant.
The secrets those lips could tell.
Worshipped.
I'm just throwing it out there that it would be really cool if you all worshipped me as your godess. But still didn't sit next to me on the bus or anything. Because, seriously, I need my space.
A Secret-Agent-Superhero-Spy-Robot.
With lasers for teeth.
And finally, and most importantly of all, the number one thing I want to be when I Grow Up is:
The Kind of Person that Would NEVER, EVER, under any circumstance EVER Ask Someone:
"What do you want to be when you're grown up?".
Like my blog on Facebook to keep updated when I post new schtuff, to make me feel better about myself, and to make my little old writer dreams come true.
However, despite this rising panic, I probably spend more time answering the question "What do you want to be when you're grown up?" than actually, y'know, deciding-what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up. And I'm willing to bet you do to. And I'm starting to wish that we could just be honest.
What I Honestly Want To Be When I Grow Up:
The Slayer.
Able to Afford More Than Potato Waffles and 68p Lidl Cranberry and Raspberry Juice Drink for my Dinner.
Most people define 'rich' by the cars they own or how many small European nations they can fit in their kitchen. Not me. I just want to be able to afford grapes.
.jpg)
Able to Dance.I want to figure out a way to dance that isn't just regurgitating the song's lyrics in sign language form. You know what I'm talking about. This is seriously how I dance. And it needs to stop. Now I know we're all guilty of the Hey-I-Just-Met-You-And-This-Is-Crazy-But-Here's-My-Number-So-Call-Me-Maybe hand gestures, and of course, no one born in the 90s isn't guilty of the Reach-For-The-Stars-Climb-Every-Mountain-Highers, but I'm talking some serious moves. Some literal dance moves. The song says 'I'? Point at your eye. It tells you stumble out of bed and tumble to the kitchen, poor yourself a cup of ambition? I'm on it. It tells you to die young?
Well, let's not go there.
A Person That Can Do One Of Those Cute Little Messy Buns On Their Head Without Looking Like A Sumo Warrior.
For real. I mock these bitches.BECAUSE I WANT TO BE THEM.
Miley Cyrus' Best Friend And Personal Confidant.
The secrets those lips could tell.
Worshipped.
I'm just throwing it out there that it would be really cool if you all worshipped me as your godess. But still didn't sit next to me on the bus or anything. Because, seriously, I need my space.
A Secret-Agent-Superhero-Spy-Robot.
With lasers for teeth.
And finally, and most importantly of all, the number one thing I want to be when I Grow Up is:
The Kind of Person that Would NEVER, EVER, under any circumstance EVER Ask Someone:
"What do you want to be when you're grown up?".
Like my blog on Facebook to keep updated when I post new schtuff, to make me feel better about myself, and to make my little old writer dreams come true.
Approaching 50... I still don't know what I want to be when I 'grow up' but thankfully people stopped asking me :-) I think you'll be an excellent writer from reading your blog!
ReplyDeleteFunny post :) You have a gift for writing. And good luck with figuring everything out. I hope people stop giving you crap and stressing you out.
ReplyDeleteOn that note, about the full-time mom thing...have you ever tried to do a 24/7 job where you can't eat, sleep, brush your teeth, shower, or pee when you need to, let alone when you want to? You spend your life getting peed on, pooped on, vomited on, changing diapers, picking up toys, doing 7 loads of laundry a day, feeding crying babies, rocking crying babies, bargaining with crying toddlers, trying to keep a clean house and cook food for your family (but any successful results you can see from those efforts vanish within a few minutes), never being able to do anything you want to do (including going to bed and waking up at the time you intend to) and not seeing any physical manifestations of all your work that you put in trying to raise healthy, happy, honest, hard-working, well-adjusted, self-reliant, educated, emotionally sound, contributing members of society...and then you get crap from people who don't know how freaking hard you work because they've never done it, and they tell you you've never worked a day in your life? Just a thought :)
You are so right and I agree that motherhood is an admirable profession. My joke was actually referring to a number of teenage girls that I both do and do not know who refer to their occupation as "full time fukken mummy" on facebook yet have a tendency to pawn their accidental offspring off to their parents and continue their lives as if a baby was an accessory, not a commitment.
DeleteOn behalf of your children until they're old enough to say it to you, thank you for being a good parent.
You are so right and I agree that motherhood is an admirable profession. My joke was actually referring to a number of teenage girls that I both do and do not know who refer to their occupation as "full time fukken mummy" on facebook yet have a tendency to pawn their accidental offspring off to their parents and continue their lives as if a baby was an accessory, not a commitment.
DeleteOn behalf of your children until they're old enough to say it to you, thank you for being a good parent.