“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I don’t know about you,1 but I hate that question. I have to choose? Bugger that for a game of soldiers. I’ve been dodging that question for nigh on a third of a century, and I’m not anticipating any change on that front, despite my grandmother’s consternation.2
In the meantime, I’ve been varyingly described as a singer, songwriter, musician, camera operator, editor, audio engineer, graphic artist, cartoon character, IT support (Hi Mum!), steel-grey metal, husband, brother, son, friend, raconteur, and “hey that guy owes me money”. Circumstances occasionally press me to choose, bu generally I long for the days when “renaissance man” was a respectable career option.
1 – Actually, I couldn’t know about you, per se, as you’re just a concept as I’m writing this text. Nevertheless it’s nice to see you,3 and thanks for reading.
2 – That may be due to my forgetting to call her on her birthday, mind you.
3 – In a manner of speaking, of course.