When I Grow Up, I Want To Be...

It seems to me that most people remember what they wanted to be as a kid. That's not to say their career dreams actually stay the same or are at all practical.

I mean my cousin wanted to be a piece of cheese. Which to this day I still think is a valid life goal.

But I don't remember wanting to be anything. Perhaps a veterinarian like my older sisters wanted to be. I quite liked to copy my sisters' ideas, even if I didn't know what they were going on about.

(Obviously that did not last forever as they are now in various science fields, and I am unemployed. With an art degree. In Namibia. The last two of which I am very content with.)

Perhaps deep down what I really wanted was to be a professional cookie eater or a permanent inhabitant of Disney World.

Let's not kid around, I would still like to be those things.

Then I got older and older and still could not settle on one thing I would like to pursue as a career. I think it really wasn't until my senior year of college that I was 95% committed to attempting a job in some sort of humanitarian relief. Now that still may seem like a broad area of focus.

Correct.

But it was, and is, broad for a few reasons.

One. There are more things wrong in this world than I can count. There are a lot of assholes that make life for other people (and animals, and the environment) really shit. And I would be happy trying to rectify any one of these problems in any way that I can. Because I can. And because I want to. (And not in a peace and love sort of way, in an angry way. Because I just don't understand why some people are so stupid and self-entitled. Anyway.)
Two. It's not an easy line of work to get into. It doesn't pay well. Sometimes it doesn't pay at all. And if it is a paid position, I am perpetually either over or under qualified, or don't have enough of the experience that no one is willing to give me.

And that last point is a problem for young Americans on all career paths. Which all seem to lead to The Cape of No Hope. Which is like the Cape of Good Hope, but everyone is cranky and has a shot of grain alcohol with breakfast.

Unfortunately, I am encountering the same problem here in Namibia. Sans drunken eggs and bacon. Rightfully, it is in the interest of the country to hire Namibians before out-of-towners like myself. That's great. It truly is. It also leads to me getting a lot of "We would love to hire you, but..."'s and dead ends.

And while I know this entry is quickly spiraling into a essay of self pity, I would just like to say this.

I, like everyone else in there 20s, understand that I must work my way up from the bottom. And I am willing to have that desk job, calling donors, returning emails for a few years. And I'm willing to work hard, in a stressful environment, with difficult people, and even more difficult environments...if I know that my work is important. I just can't seem to even really get on the totem pole in order to be at the bottom of it.

I'm totem pole-less.

Obviously I'm not throwing in the towel. I mean, seriously, there's so many opportunities, it's ridiculous. And also I'm broke and can't afford a new towel.

But in the meantime, I think I will open up a cafe/bakery that has some funky name like The Button Jar Bake Shop, where I can sell exciting cupcakes and brownies and my art and crafty nuggets and have big cushy chairs and lots of plants. With a painting studio in the loft, which you have to walk up a giraffe-shaped staircase to get to.

Because that, sadly (or maybe not sadly, but bizarrely) is more plausible at this point.

Happy Friday, my lovely friends!