Tis that time again, my friends.
Time for my dreaded bi yearly review,
as given to me by the cruelest, most judgmental, most unrealistic person I know.
Ten-year-old me.
This tends to happen right after I've gone through old boxes of junk of mine.
Like school papers from the past entitled "where will I be in 10 years..."
And "my goals" written in diary entries, and various career projects assigned in middle school.
You know, just things designed to make you feel bad about life when you come across them fifteen years into the future.
I know what you're thinking. Who's got time to root through all that stuff?
Certainly not me.
But I'll tell you who does.
Unemployed Girl.
AKA Terry.
She's still trying to hang around even though I told her I (kinda) have a job right now.
Or I'm trying to, anyway.
But she's such an arrogant asshole she doesn't listen.
Instead she insists on making me sit through this "review."
"It'll be fun" she said.
Since I really have no choice in the matter, here it goes.
Regarding where I should be living right now according to 6th grade me:
"I will be living in a big city somewhere in probably either New York or California
and I will have three cars and live in a Tudor mansion."
When you're a kid, there are only two big cities.
And they both obviously reside in California or New York.
As for that Tudor Mansion I described, well that is so clearly from the game of Life.
That's the best house card you could draw. Sure, the Victorian was more expensive.
But everyone knew the Tudor was better looking.
How the hell else would I have known what a Tudor was at that age?
Even though I'd like to pretend it was,
real estate wasn't exactly my hobby of choice in elementary.
In fact, I blame that game for much of my unrealistic aspirations as a kid.
I'm still waiting to draw that 100,000 salary card...
What's funny to me about this is the fact that when I was little I remember thinking living in
a small house would be the most awful thing in the world.
And now I can walk by the smallest, ugliest house in Chicago and I can't help but think,
damn there must be some real fancy people who live there if they're able to buy their own home.
I rent the first floor of a wealthy Jewish couple's home.
Owning any type of house= you've made it
in my eyes.
Regarding my career according to Mrs. Wright's 7th grade careers class:
"I will be a famous actress or will own a magazine."
Don't set the bar too high, Braceface.
Those metal brackets are only meant to fix your teeth, they're not going to turn you into Blake Lively.
Instead I work in sales and write a blog.
Which is basically the same as being an actor who runs a magazine.
Five points: me.
Regarding my relationship status according to a 1998 diary entry:
"I will be married with maybe one kid."
This one really gets me.
I like that even while I was still a child I knew I kinda sucked,
and I already had an inkling that I might not be ready for my own children for a long long time.
That's about all I can handle for now.
Keep on trucking little girl from Nebraska. You'll figure it out someday.
In the meantime just be happy you made it out of the knit sweater gang alive and well.
Time for my dreaded bi yearly review,
as given to me by the cruelest, most judgmental, most unrealistic person I know.
Ten-year-old me.
This tends to happen right after I've gone through old boxes of junk of mine.
Like school papers from the past entitled "where will I be in 10 years..."
And "my goals" written in diary entries, and various career projects assigned in middle school.
You know, just things designed to make you feel bad about life when you come across them fifteen years into the future.
I know what you're thinking. Who's got time to root through all that stuff?
Certainly not me.
But I'll tell you who does.
Unemployed Girl.
AKA Terry.
She's still trying to hang around even though I told her I (kinda) have a job right now.
Or I'm trying to, anyway.
But she's such an arrogant asshole she doesn't listen.
Instead she insists on making me sit through this "review."
"It'll be fun" she said.
Since I really have no choice in the matter, here it goes.
Regarding where I should be living right now according to 6th grade me:
"I will be living in a big city somewhere in probably either New York or California
and I will have three cars and live in a Tudor mansion."
When you're a kid, there are only two big cities.
And they both obviously reside in California or New York.
As for that Tudor Mansion I described, well that is so clearly from the game of Life.
That's the best house card you could draw. Sure, the Victorian was more expensive.
But everyone knew the Tudor was better looking.
How the hell else would I have known what a Tudor was at that age?
Even though I'd like to pretend it was,
real estate wasn't exactly my hobby of choice in elementary.
I'm still waiting to draw that 100,000 salary card...
What's funny to me about this is the fact that when I was little I remember thinking living in
a small house would be the most awful thing in the world.
And now I can walk by the smallest, ugliest house in Chicago and I can't help but think,
damn there must be some real fancy people who live there if they're able to buy their own home.
I rent the first floor of a wealthy Jewish couple's home.
Owning any type of house= you've made it
in my eyes.
Regarding my career according to Mrs. Wright's 7th grade careers class:
"I will be a famous actress or will own a magazine."
Don't set the bar too high, Braceface.
Those metal brackets are only meant to fix your teeth, they're not going to turn you into Blake Lively.
Instead I work in sales and write a blog.
Which is basically the same as being an actor who runs a magazine.
Five points: me.
Regarding my relationship status according to a 1998 diary entry:
"I will be married with maybe one kid."
This one really gets me.
I like that even while I was still a child I knew I kinda sucked,
and I already had an inkling that I might not be ready for my own children for a long long time.
That's about all I can handle for now.
Keep on trucking little girl from Nebraska. You'll figure it out someday.
In the meantime just be happy you made it out of the knit sweater gang alive and well.
