Old School

In my quest to find a forever-misplaced scholarship application I stumbled upon some high school papers I wrote. This one kinda explains why I've started a blog so I thought it was post-able.


My Career of Choice

When pondering the years of difficult decisions ahead of me, I thought back to my earlier years and what I expected from life then. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? At the ripe age of two and a half I decided to pursue my life as a duck. This may seem hasty but it seemed reasonable enough and I have never met an unhappy duck. I was devoted to the television show “Duck Tales” and thought the most satisfying way to take on the world would be as Duckworth, in my words “Duff-luff”, the dignified duck butler. But as the years dragged on I learned not to simply settle as a duck.

By the time I was four I had evolutionarily regressed to the four-legged, though much loved, domestic dog. This time I was serious. I practiced for my life as a dog by making my sister walk me around on a leash and spending quality time with my chocolate lab in her cage. For the next few years I went through a career option dry spell, rejecting things like “human cannonball”, “professional NBA player”, and “Michael Jackson” as they became increasingly less desirable. I took into consideration something more practical, with a steady income and regulated schedule. However, if I were a teacher I would fear for the physical well being of my students.

As a freshman I decided that political science was my niche and nothing would change my mind this time. This was before I realized both that I would have to suffer through three years of law school and I would never even get to yell “OBJECTION” or distribute five-to-tens.

So lately, as I apply to colleges, I resort to checking that looming “undecided” box under “majors”. It is such a lost feeling when you don’t have the fallback occupations such as duck or human cannonball. I have assessed my unlimited talents and positive characteristics, and all that has surfaced is that I am an all-encompassing, highly accredited, wise ass. Passed down paternally, I have learned the tricks of the wise ass trade. So to employ this expertise, I have mixed in a little creative writing and higher education. Now here I am, in all my glory, an aspiring Dave Barry. I love to write about things I’m interested in and I’m especially fine at making fun of people, events, situations, you name it. So, at least for this week, I want to be a syndicated columnist.

Usually the training to be a columnist or journalist of any kind would begin at the middle or high school level, requiring participation in the school newspaper. A journalism major would be expected as well as a list of published books/articles/essays I will have written. Once I have landed a job as a journalist for some no-name paper I will have to work my way up the ranks until I have my own comedic section of the paper. As of now this seems like way too many steps to get where I’m going. I hope to nonchalantly waltz into The New York Times the day after I graduate and have a job thrown at me upon my entrance. This is, after all, my hypothetical future.