When children are young, it is common for adults to tell them they can be anything they want.  There is some stupid advice.  Guess what, kids.  You can’t be anything you want.  Not even close.  President?  Forget it.  That is for rich people.

How about being astronaut.  Are you good at math?  Like, really good.  And do you think you will get an advanced degree in something like medicine or physics?  You might, you say?  No.  No you won’t.  Give it up now.  Plan on being a plumber or electrician.  You might watch some astronaut movies.  If you are an electrician you’ll probably find the parts where all the module electronics go bad more compelling than the average person.  That’s something.

You will also not be a theoretical physicist or a ballet dancer or a Formula 1 racecar driver.  Actor?  Doubt it.  Unless you have a close relative already acting or directing.  Which you most certainly do not.  Especially if you are reading this blog.

Perhaps you could be a cartoonist, say for the Smurfs reboot.  Once again, get real.  You are the third best artist in your grade.  Do you think the other two kids are destined to be cartoonists?  Because they aren’t.  The one will have emotional issues and develop a drinking problem and the other will be an accountant.  Who daydreams of being a cartoonist.  This is called irony.  (As a sidebar, apparently Smurfette was created by Gargamel.  Some geek pointed this out.  Heh heh heh.  And in episode four Smurfette is wearing a purple bow but when they cut back to her the bow is blue.  Heh heh heh.  Scandal.  Or Smurfandal, if you prefer.  God, I hate the Smurfs.  Stupid little blue things.  You also can’t be a smurf.)

Of course, you could be a blogger.  After all, anyone can be one of those.  You would suck at it though.  You think this is easy?  I’m a damn literary genius.  You think you can compete with the MO?  Maybe you are slated for Apollo 215.  Dream on, little girl.

Every kid dreams of being a professional athlete.  This is even more ridiculous than your astronaut dream.  Have you taken a good look at LeBron James lately?  Let me solve the mystery for you.  You don’t look anything like him.  You are short and chunky and have bad hands.

Teacher?  Why bother?  Doctor?  The school loans will bury you.  Evening news anchor?  Is your name Brick or Storm or Sage?  Probably not.

Perhaps you would like to be the national spelling champion.  And, let’s say you are home schooled for the sake of argument.  Sorry.  This will remain but a dream.  You are not of Indian descent and you cannot be no matter how hard you try.  Pow pow pow.  In your face, pasty-complexioned European mutt.

So children, you can plainly see that you have been repeatedly lied to.  You can’t be whatever you want.  Kind of like I can’t be young again by sucking your lifeblood from you.  Believe me, I would if I could.  The point is that you need to have realistic goals and dreams.  There is nothing wrong with being a shift supervisor at a retail store.  Somebody has to do it.  And it sure as hell won’t be LeBron James.

I forgot something.  You know that really cute girl in the class ahead of you.  Well, her dad is a lawyer and she is used to the high life.  Put her out of her mind.

Maybe her dumpy friend.