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What Do You Want to Be...?
By Succubyss
Remember when you were a little kid and everyone from your teacher to your fat Aunt Ethel to the cashier at the grocery store asked you that question? And with it comes that tired cliché, “You can be ANYTHING you want!”
Yeah, right…
First of all, you really can’t be anything you want. Sorry to be such a downer on all those people who think hard work and will gets you to the top. For every successful doctor, actor and pastry chef there are hundreds, maybe thousands or MILLIONS of people who didn’t have the talent or skill or attention span to learn what they needed to. Or even the moral support or the time or the money... For every reality show winner who gets their dream job of being “America’s Next Top Model” or “Donald Trump’s Apprentice”, there are literally, a million people who tried for it and failed.
As soon as I was old enough to want to “BE” something, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I loved animals and I so wanted to take care of them. That was a noble ambition until I realized animals BLED. They had blood inside them and when they got hurt, the blood came out. Yuck. I wanted my kitties and puppies to be furry with no leaks. Plus, we had a sick cat that the vet couldn’t make better and we had to have her “put to sleep”. So, the vet actually KILLED MY CAT! That completely burst my little bubble about being a vet.
Around the time I was 11 or so, I thought ROCK STAR would be a cool job. I loved music AND being in the center of attention, what could be more appropriate? So I learned how to play the recorder. Yes, the recorder. That little wood instrument that every 5th grader learns to play so they can torment their family members with practice and recitals of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Red and Yellow and Pink and Green”. Rockin’…
Shortly after that, I joined the school chorus, hoping to enhance my vocal skills. This is where the very scary, mean and vicious chorus teacher helped me to realize I am tone deaf. Rock Star was now OUT…
Next up was writer. The only class I ever enjoyed was English and I got rave reviews for my writing. And, I could combine music and writing and write music reviews! Yea, I’d get my own column with Circus Magazine. I’d be a famous writer, I’d hobnob with hot musicians and it would make me RICH AND FAMOUS! Um, so how does one go about doing that? I had no clue… still don’t.
So, instead of “What Do You Want To Be?”, I segued into “What Pays The Bills”. Which is a rather dull assortment of office jobs. I have climbed the corporate ladder and found it to be lucrative, but not at all suited to any passion or meaningful goal in my life. I was even offered an executive parking space once. Unfortunately, it came with a condition. My boss told me I’d have to take the “Fuck Work” bumper sticker off my car. Needless to say, I continued to park with the common folk.
I hate work. I hate that it takes me away from my home and my family and distracts me from doing what I love. I hate that all the time I spend at work is time I can never get back to play with my dogs or talk to my children or listen to music or sit in my yard. Not to mention how much I hate dealing with the idiots, er, I mean the PEOPLE I work with all day, every day.
Two years ago, I started my own business. I went back to my original love and passion of animals and offered in-home pet-sitting and dog training. After years of volunteering at an animal shelter and seeing lost, abandoned and abused animals, I wanted to see happy, well-cared for critters in their home environment. I would be a pet-sitter extraordinaire! Here’s what I found out; with few exceptions, people don’t really want to pay you to take care of their stuff, they just want you to take care of it. And sometimes, people don’t even want to KEEP their stuff. I wound up with no money and another cat and dog added to my household.
My passion for the written word has continued. Thanks to the Internet, I have found an outlet for that in message boards and newsgroups. I realized my dream of being a featured columnist. Check me out, all up on Dead Rebel Society, with you hanging on my every word. Whooo boy, the dollars are really starting to roll in from this gig! Not…
So doing what you love usually isn’t about money. Money is about money and most people don’t love money itself. Plenty of people love the freedom money brings, but doing something JUST for money won’t work. And doing something JUST for love doesn’t pay the bills.
I think my answer these days to the “What Do You Want To Be” question is either independently wealthy or left the hell alone!
