When I get older…


Funny how adults ask us all the time throughout our childhood, who we want to be when we grow up? Why do we have to come up with a certain answer? Why does it have to be a profession, a career path? Why do have to define ourselves solely in those terms? Is our vision of our future limited to just those things? Is it really who want to be in say 15 years? Is your whole life about being a doctor? Or is there more to this question than we might think?

Yes, numerous relatives, guests and other people used to ask me this since I was able to speak. And at first I don’t remember what I said, but I clearly remember that I was always confused by that question. I didnt like this question at all because people were looking at me and expecting a very specific response. And then they’d smile, when I said “I don’t know” and ask me again. “Think about it, what do you like?” Of course as a child I liked to play and fool around, I liked drawing and playing outdoors. So, was this the right answer? They shake their head “no”. So, what is it then? Why can’t you work and have fun at the same time? Why is it that drawing is not considered a “normal” job? Some people think that real job has to bring “the pain” and “the satisfaction”, and obviously “the bread”. And that’s true. A job has to challenge an individual, but if it brings no joy, what is the point I ask myself?

A lot of students of my age are having troubles of finding their true “passion”. Sometimes, they know the answer, but they deny themselves a luxury of following that path. Because its hard, because its wrong etc. In other cases, we are bound by the choices our parents made for us, and even though I think that parents only wish right for you, they are still not you. They might be concerned for your future but if they truly want their child to be happy, they should let them find their own path, journey to the final destination.

Therefore, when thinking about “who you want to be when you grow up”, don’t think of stupid profession and such things. Think of yourself and who you are now, and then think of who you would like to become. I would like to become more wise, kind, tolerant. I would like to help more people and make an impact. I would like to travel. I would like to be able to sustain myself at the point where I don’t have to reject myself certain things “pleasures” of life. As much as I wish to be alienated from material world, I know it’s hard to do it, when you have been socialized your whole life into it. Unfortunately, the only escape, is the wilderness. And will I be able to make it there? I don’t think so. But sometimes, when I need an escape from this cynical world full of “must do’s” and bound by a hand of watch, concrete jungles and machines, I want to be able to do it. Because I believe we are only true ourselves when are not bound by all these material, “real” things. And put real into quotation marks, because it’s a concept open to interpretation. It’s what your believe in that matters.

Don’t listen to what other people tell you. Do what brings you pleasure, because in the end, material pleasures that your job will bring you, won’t matter as much as your inner-state. If having a family and being a mother/father brings you true happiness, then do it! If challenging yourself academically and developing intellectually [and spiritually] is vital for you, then do it! If you want to escape the world and learn more about other cultures and languages, then do it.

Don’t become your own hangman. Be your own emancipator. Release your wings. Let your soul sour into the skies. Be the architect.


this was a flow of conscious. not edited.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s