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Thursday, July 27, 2006
When I was four years old I knew that when I grew up, I would be a chemist. Not that loser faux-doctor who hands you Panadol and relishes his responsibility of pointing out the dosage information on the packet like you don't have fucking eyes, but a chemist in the mad-scientist way of things. I would mix up crazy potions that would explode, change colour, and froth over. I would live in Switzerland, wear glasses, have distinguished and lustrous grey hair, and carry a clipboard. I'm sure a psychologist-y type person could have a field day with how nerdy my four year old self was, but I had it all mapped out.

Of course, if highschool chemistry didn't kill my career fantasies, the semester of organics at uni surely did. Not that it mattered, as I was well over that career path. During my educational and social development I have wanted to be: a vet, a cardiologist, a radiologist, a dermatologist, a lawyer, an acrobat, a sculptor, a primary school teacher, a high school teacher, a translator, an architect, a shoe designer, a buyer, and a publisher.

My problem has been that, not since I was four, I've never been sure what I want to be when I grow up. Everyone else seems to be all "I'm going to be a X, and then I'll get married and have 2.5 children [I guess most people anticipate an abortion or miscarriage, how interesting], a golden retriever, and a lovely house with a rose bush". I'm trying to look at my indecisiveness as a good thing. I mean, theoretically I could do anything I want. I really am quite intelligent, you know, and my parents would have supported me in doing anything I wanted to do. If only I had that drive to like, achieve or something. Unfortunately I just know that given half the chance, I would make an unreal man-heiress (sidenote: I know that a male heiress is like, an heir, but "heiress" has all the laziness connotations and associations with beauty and vanity and spending, etc.), and I would make Paris Hilton look like an overachieving, corporate work-horse. Actually, at least she has like, a CD and TV show, let alone her cut from 1 Night in Paris. I've got... a blog! Lucky me.

And yes, I know people do change their minds all the time and have mid-life crises and all that shit. I'm just feeling a little... uhm... frustrated at the moment. I've like, totally wasted my youth! I should have been out like, achieving, so when I decided what I wanted to do, I would at least have something to back it up. It's a weird situation: you can't really do what you want to do until you know what to do, but then to do it you need to have done it all along. Woah, headtrip.

Meh. I just saw some cool jobs I could totally see myself doing, but there's no way I would get them. I mean, I would rip the shit out of them, and totally kick bum and take my boss' job, but I guess people would want to see some examples of me, like, working or having experience or something. Who doesn't have ANY experience when they're 24? I suck!

So basically I'm returning of my list of potential careers. I still think the shoe designing is the way to go. I mean, I like shoes, and yet find it almost impossible to find nice ones. I mean, not only are the designs for men completely banal, but also they are always too chunky and never fit my weird shaped foot (I have a long, narrow foot thanks to my tall-ass grandmother). I spent, like, seven hundred bucks this week on shoes, but I know I could make supremely cool ones that would be the envy of all. But how would I do that? Move to frigging Italy or something? I wish my parents knew some like, influential people already. Bah.

I think I'll have to choose something a little more... realistic. Acrobat it is! Although maybe I could move to Europe -- under the pretense of "finding myself" -- find me a super-rich (but not Daddy-ish) boyfriend, have a gay-ass wedding, and then become the man-heiress I know I could be if given half the chance.


Sometimes my shallowness surprises even me. I could have been anything, and all I want to do with my life is travel and spend money. The curse of brains and beauty, people...