happy days

So, when I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my bathroom.

I'd stand in front of the mirror, and pretend to sell my mum's make-up products to myself like a late-night infomercial. I wanted to be on TV, selling you juicers and cellulite creams. I wanted to be an infomercial girl, invading your airwaves after dark.

Well, growing up made me realize that really isn't a viable career choice, because you have to...you know, be able to sell things. I can't even convince someone to buy a lemon raspberry loaf.

Me: "Can I get you anything else with your coffee today?"
Asshat: "No."

Retreeeeeat!

But it's funny what we envision ourselves as in the future as children. I had a lot of weird assumptions about adulthood that are (sadly) not true. At one point, I figured I could make six figures as a puppysitter. Wrong! Also, the treasure of staying up late and eating lots of fudgesicles is not the goldmine it seems. My parents used to warn me about the dangers of getting older, but I never really saw it as a threat - the future was a promise. It was the kind of promise I'd make to my friends on the field during recess. It's the promise I make to myself on the bus to school. It's the promise I've exchanged with Jason every time we've left each other to return to our respective cities.

And it's a promise I still keep.