What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up? I Wanted To Pump Gas

It's amazing at how much your imagination wanders when you're a little shit. Almost like you feel anything is possibleeeeeee (Kevin Garnett - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyjOy7fRzs0). My mom would always tell me "Dream big Mike". I'm lying. She never told me that. But still, you feel like the world is your oyster and with it you can do anything. See when I was growing up I had a lot of dreams of what I wanted to be when I was an adult. Actually, my first dream job was to be a gas pumper. For those of you not from New Jersey or Oregon, these are the people who fill up your tank when you're at the gas station. They always had this huge wad of cash with them and I thought they got to keep it. Lo and behold, that money isn't theirs. Dream crushed.

After I figured that out at the age of 18, I needed some new dreams and new ambitions. Another one of my dream jobs was to be a detective. When I was in grammar school, our library had 100 books. 12 of those books happened to be Encyclopedia Brown books. By far the most kickass detective in the history of storytelling and real life. He makes Robert Downey Jr.'s interpretation of Sherlock Holmes look like a shit-stained pair of tighty whiteys. That's a very disgusting image. But that led me wanting to be the first Almanac Gray. Never happened. Dream crushed.

I became an advocate of one the best sitcoms written during the last 10 years. Scrubs, a simple concept of a show that exhibited the highlights and lowlights of being a medical doctor. On one hand, you meet all these great people who inspire you and make you strive to be a better person. And then on the other, you meet some people content with calling it a life. Like almost all jobs, it has it's ups-and-downs, but something I wanted to pursue. Turns out you have to major in science or some shit and then go to graduate school and then do a residency at a hospital or something. $300,000 later you are now a doctor. Dream crushed.

Lately, I got into Californication. An excuse for a show that showcases attractive women with their tops off. I really like the show. The main character is an asshole, has sex with beautiful women, tussles with his baby mama, and drinks all his sorrows away. Now I want to be a writer. Do I have the qualifications? A degree in Communication Studies doesn't sound like it. Am I a decent writer? You would have to be the judge of that. I find this blog to be moderately offensive and garbled with a bunch of meaningless text. But if you are reading it, it must not be so terrible. Becoming an author takes a lot of time, talent, and luck. None of which I have. Dream crushed.

So what is it that I want to be when I grow up? I have no fucking idea. As I sit typing away in my bed, I think about what it is that will truly make me happy. But no time spent is enough to give me an answer. I don't know what makes me happy anymore. I don't know what it is that I want to do with the rest of my life. I know for sure what I don't want to do. And that's live in New Jersey for all of eternity. I'm thinking of inventing a t-shirt with a built-in fan. Or an air conditioner that can fit inside my pillow to ensure that it is always cold. Either way, growing up sucks. At least I know that, "I am better than you."