Saturday, March 31, 2012

When You're Grown Up

What do you want to be
     when you grow up?

I never had the same answer
     not even through high school
I wanted to be lots of things
     veterinarian
     actress
     architect

my answer changed through college
     publisher
     marketing executive
     copywriter

now people ask a different question
     not what do you want to do
          but what are you doing

the current answers are unsatisfying
     intern
     temp
     job seeker

the conversation has turned from
     future
     to present
         
          (when did that happen)

and it creeps up everywhere
     at grandma's with family
     at bars with friends

     while walking the dog

beyond the looks of sympathy 
     for my lack of 
     real employment
     for enduring 2 internships
     for have little but experience 
     to show for it

past the snide remarks
     that I should have gone to
     the state school if
     I wanted a job here
     if that was my end game
          (it wasn't

           it still isn't)

after the question of where
     and what major

Sometimes

it comes up

what I really want to do
what I'm really going to do
what, really, I am doing

and usually
it goes like this
     well that's cool
     a best-seller, huh
     the next great American novel
     neat
   
     so you want to write stories

     I emit a sound like a laugh
     as I squirm internally
     - Yeah, I  do -
     like it's a joke or
     a too far-off dream
     like it's not a reality

but today
       today was different
      while taking the dog for a walk

      today an 8 year old
                who is going to be an NHL
                hockey player
                     when he grows up
     today the boy asks

so what are you going to be
     when you grow up?

my heart catches
     as I tell him
     the real answer

oh, he says in understanding,
     like an author?

yes

like Mark Twain?

     I smile
exactly.

2 comments:

  1. Oh my god, this seriously just about made me cry at work. This is exactly everything I'm thinking. I LOVE this poem. No lie.

    I just had to read it again in the middle of this comment and that last line is so awesome. We know what we're going to be, so it doesn't matter if anyone else gets it.

    And seriously, who said that thing about state schools? Did you beat them up? Because that's the only acceptable response to people who get that way about state schools. State schools are FINE and also FUCK YOU. (I'm going to feel really bad it if it turns out to be your grandma or something like that, obviously don't beat them up then.)

    I'm a writer. Everything else I do is in support of that. Anyone who doesn't get it ends up impaled on a spike in the new short story I'm writing called, "People I Don't Like (End Up Impaled On a Spike."

    <3

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  2. Okay, so I wrote this comment twice before and both times it obviously didn't post and I am obviously really ticked off at this and if this doesn't post then I'm going to throw something at the wall.

    I love the last line of the poem too--and gosh, I wish I met a little kid who could understand without having to rationalize and think about how I won't get anywhere in life and that I should keep working and stop writing and stop thinking about useless philosophical things to put in said useless writing and if I keep going on like this, this is going to the longest run-on sentence ever.

    Cerasi is right--as long as we know what we want to be, who cares what anyone else thinks? If anything, the gratification of being published and getting where we want to be can be a metaphorical slap in the metaphorical face, and then retribution is complete and then we can throw confetti in their faces to congratulate them for being wrong.

    We're going to be amazing. It's gonna be hard in our 20s where people expect us to be going somewhere, to be doing something important and glamorous and if we don't, then we're just one of the majority, but you know, sometimes we need to cultivate some time in the majority to prove that we're more than that.

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