I wasted an evening.
I don't have the time to do that.
I don't even feel relieved.
It's really funny to see all these people on my flist doing the Career Cruising meme after my Career Development Class had to spend bajillions of years doing it for Mrs. Brodeur's crummy laugh class.
I loved the first set I got, when I didn't pay attention to the answers. Then I mainly kept getting environmental/scientific or artistic jobs. It was neat. Or it would have been, if we didn't have to do packet after identical packet and rot away in redundancy.
Which reminds me of my Fake Career Development Statements, which I wrote last year when I didn't one to write a Real One.
When I grow up I want to become a writer who does not use the phrase "when I grow up." In all actuality, I want to become an activist against the phrase "when I grow up" save for when it is used in elementary school as an answer from young children. "When I grow up I want to be a fiwe-fighta!" sounds much more adequate than, "When I grow up I wish to be an environmentalist working for forest preservation and energy conservation." The phrase would sound much better as something along the lines of, "Upon reaching the age of choosing a career, my choice would most likely be..." blah blah blah, though "blah blah blah" would not make a very environmentally-awakre career. I could, however, blah all the blahs away during the blah amount of time. That, after all, would be saving the blahs. So at least I would be saving the world for something!
(I was high on anger, thanks. Mrs. Brodeur kept using the phrase "when you grow up" and made us all feel like little children on Parent Career Day or whatever. "Little Johnny, what do YOU want to be when you grow up?")
"I want to be everything when I grow up. I could thus pick 365 different careers every year, unless I wanted to take, say Winter Solstice off. Then, upon that day, I could prance around bragging about all the things I have been. Boo on "indecisive!" It's the way to live! Plus, once every four years, I would be able to attain a full 366 different careers if I so chose to work through holidays. After all, on Christmas I could even choose being an elf at the mall as a career. I would constantly be the center of attention during parties and be able to get even the emo's brain to explode. Because who, save for me, could brag of being an astronaut one day and a mortician the next?! Upon getting through every single career, I could combine different ones together for different days. According to math I don't understand, that would be a lot of combinations, and I would die before completing them all. Everyone wants to apply lipstick to a dead drag queen while floating around Venus.
I want to be everything when I grow up."
(I will remind that these are of course not serious, as you have gathered. :P. I was just frustrated.)
"I don't want to be more alone. I want to be emo. When I grow up, I want to be an emo. I want to sit in corners and slit my wrists. Then, I want to stop the flow of blood with my maths exam. I'll cry my eyes out until they fall and roll onto my calculator, creating a graph of my broken heart. The graph will have a negative slope, signifying my life in my birth, the downhill of eternal torment, and then the ultimate ending: death. I can go to any college to accomplish this because all college is angst-inducing and horrible. I will never find love in any of those places and all friends will stab me in the back, letting my skin permanently be stained with my own crimson blood. Any dorm I enter will hold my hatred for life and everything living. The gardens that horticulturists work so diligently within will wither away and die the way my soul has.
When I grow up, I want to be emo."
(That was the first one. Because I wanted to write about being the satired version of emo. And no, I don't "hate emos" or whatever. It's all in the name of a few good laughs--I made fun of activists a bit, of people who are indecisive, and the way "emo" is viewed by some people--all taken to extreme to point out that I truly have nothing against any of the three. So yes. My friends liked my fake career statements far more than my real one. And I don't think this post needs a trigger warning from that? I'm not sure--not used to the whole trigger warning and all.)