What Do You Want To Be?

I am so envious of people who KNOW what
they want to be when they "grow up".

The person who's known they were a doctor since they were five, or would implode if they couldn't horse trade, write, fight fires, sing, build rockets, teach, etc.


Something in my INFJ-ness makes me adore taking personality tests. The ones with easy questions like, "Would you rather go to a party or stay at home with the cats?"

It's the Luke-this-is-your-destiny type tests that are utterly unsatisfying to me.

Here's where they stump me: "Describe your perfect day." "What makes you happy?" W.T.F. Who can do that?!
I'll tell ya who - people who already know.

I like doing a lot of things in my perfect day. What the hell is happy? (The Scots blood rears its cynical plaid head.)

One thing I've noticed, once an accolade is received, I'm done. It doesn't have to be a Pulitzer; a simple honorable mention at the county fair will work. Poetry, photography, drawing - pfffttt, finished, fin, finito, the end.

There is nothing in me that will cause me anguish if I can't do it. (Other than breathing or walking around.) At the same time I really long for it.

Whatever it is.