I want to be a waitress when I grow up.

While I’m in the re-blogging mood also check out my friend Jessie’s new blog, she’s a talented aspiring therapist and now I found out a talented writer as well!

jessiearcand

That’s right. A waitress. At least that’s what I said in the third grade. But what better to do with a child’s dream than to squash it and tell   her to think of something different and “better” to be than a shitty, low-paid waitress? (Thank you, Ms. Ellickson.)

So I changed it to “marine biologist.” It sounded smart. And it would get the teacher off my back. I went with that for a while until I realized that I’m terrified of the sea (and the threat of tsunamis, in particular) and I fucking HATE biology.

Next idea: stand-up comedian. Again, a low-paid job with little chance of success. But I’d get to talk all day and (potentially) make people laugh. Realistic, it was not. Closer to a real yet feasible dream job? Most definitely, though I wouldn’t realize it for another sixteen years or so.

Enter junior high. No one knows…

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