I have no idea what to be when I get older, and adults make you choose too fast! I had an ephemeral career as “class clown,” but my teacher told me that doesn’t count. I don’t want to end up with a boring job, and I’m very intransigent about it. I want a career with pizzazz!
I could become a fruit entrepreneur who starts a business shipping fruit around the world! I’d travel to Australia to harvest quandong, or trade pitaya and black currant in Nigeria for fresh tamarind. I’d even sell durian if I could put up with the smell. Maybe I could become a celebrity cosmetologist who gives a relaxing face lavation to actors before their close-ups. Or I could be the owner of a wild karaoke bar with guests singing and dancing, limbs all akimbo. It would be neat to be a cemetery caretaker, looking for ghosts in mausoleums and planting flowers in the mulch. But perhaps I should become something more exciting, like a volcanologist studying an island lava flow from my marine vessel.
Sometimes I feel like I missed out on the heyday of certain jobs. I could have been an aviator of a zeppelin, but no one really flies those anymore. I could have been an animator for old cartoons showing in a nickelodeon. If I could go back in time, maybe I could have been a haberdasher of opulent clothes fit for a royal with pulchritude, or a watchmaker carefully placing minuscule sprockets where they belong.
I can’t seem to decide what to do when I grow up and it is becoming a bugaboo for me. My parents and I are at loggerheads over what I should become. But why do I need a job at all? I have one hypothesis. If we could live our lives and enjoy all of our passions, not just one, that would be quite the panacea.
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