Earliest I can remember, it was dolphin trainer.  After that came veterinarian, followed by a long stint of actress, dancer, singer, or all of the above.  In junior high, I was going to be a writer.  In high school, it was teacher, then director, then theatrical or cinematic set designer.  I entered college and studied theatre with vague ideas about teaching community college one day, or directing high school shows, or then maybe teaching English instead.  Then I was going to open a boutique, or work in marketing, or excel in sales, or possibly go to beauty school… or maybe I’ll be a midwife, or open an Etsy store, or blog for a living…


Here I am, nearly on the cusp of my 28th and 29th year, essentially jobless and still with no solid answer to this one big question.  What do I want to be when I grow up?  What color is my parachute?  At what point is one considered a grown up, anyway?  If my lifelong career is my parachute, when exactly do they throw me out of the plane?

I’ve squeaked by thus far by working an assortment of odd jobs, with a decent amount of flair and tons of initial enthusiasm, and quipping that I was “an aspiring housewife” whenever anyone posed the big question.  Wouldn’t you know it, here I am: housewife.  Which is fantastic.  However,  as my housewife status will be eversomuch more important when there are little people to raise in this house, it makes sense that I should be pursuing something that might actually contribute to our financial future in the interim.  Wouldn’t you know it, it turns out the pay for housewives is completely bogus.

Tragically, though, so is the pay for writers.  Or knitters with Etsy stores, unless you’re the particularly brilliant sort.  There’s a remarkable lack of funding available for freelance crafty persons, and enough creative marketing idea folks swarming about to effectively stomp any hope of snagging a client.  It takes many up-front invested dollars to open cute boutiques or cozy yarn stores, and mad web skills to design successful new social empires.  They prefer midwives to have nursing degrees (the nerve!) and hairstylists to shell out the bucks for 18 weeks of scissor bootcamp (apparently YouTube videos don’t count for much) and no one seems to want to pay me to decorate my house.

I find myself wishing I’d been the sort who loved math, or learned graphic design before everyone else did, or simply had a plan and stuck with it.  But I’m not that girl.  So, here I am, in my familiar little worn-in patch of square one, waiting for the next good bandwagon to jump on, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this one will be the ride of my life.

I will say this:  as frustrated as I often am with myself, there is something lovely in the not knowing.  I suppose I could still grow up to be just about anything, really.  And, really, so could you.


What do you want to be when you grow up?


Photo by the incomparablShannon Hannon

  • Jennifer Leeper June 1, 2011 at 8:17 am

    Interestingly enough (at least for me), whenever people asked me or still ask me (32 is not yet grown up) my answer is always a name. I want to be like my dad or mom or sister or friend or teacher, etc. I guess that I tend to be pulled towards personalities rather than professions! 🙂

  • Selkie on Ravelry June 1, 2011 at 11:04 am

    When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a detective (Nancy Drew anyone?). Then around junior high, it was an archaeologist. But how often do you see archaeologists in the real world? So in college (after taking a year to figure it out) I decided to become an accountant. Good with math plus good money equals good career, right? Wrong.

    After 2 1/2 years of studying something ABSOLUTELY DULL, I switched to anthropology and became an archaeologist. I’m ever so happy I did. But at some point (many years later) I realized I wanted to help people in the here and now, rather than focus on the past. So I got into poverty research, but I was still struggling because I didn’t want to be a data geek. I wanted to help people directly. I had to think about this next step for 9 years…

    Now, at almost 39 years old, I’m going to graduate school to become a licensed clinical social worker (basically a therapist). Life is so exciting and full right now. I’m completely happy about this new path and not at all worried that I’m not the age of the typical grad student.

    I say follow your dreams – who regrets following their dreams? Maybe when I’m 60 I’ll finally become that kick-ass secret agent I’ve always wanted to become 😉

  • Becca Blevins June 1, 2011 at 3:56 pm

    You are so full of energy and life it’s contagious, is that a career? I’m sure you’re not looking for suggestions, but I’ve always thought you should be a marketer. I’d pay you to market my work that’s for sure. Thats my two cents on the subject… or a business manager for creative folks, like yourself.

  • Kim Robbie June 1, 2011 at 5:42 pm

    When I was three I decided I wanted to work at The Emporium, because they had these really cool buttons on their cash registers. Around fourth grade I decided I wanted to be a children’s author, and that dream stuck through college. Then reality hit–how do I get paid for that? After too many years in retail God brought me to my current career all because I knew the right person who knew I needed a new job and he had a friend who was hiring. 17 years later here I am, still in the same field. Maybe someday I’ll publish a children’s book, but right now I’m having fun what I’m doing.

    When are you grown up? I admit that I felt very grown up the first time I “got” to pay rent. But now I think that grown up is always older than I am!

  • Let the river run… « Girl of Cardigan August 3, 2011 at 8:35 am

    […] As we’ve discussed, I’ve never been much of a career driven kid. […]