…you do when you grow up?
That question has always irked me. Who says I’ll ever be grown up? Is there some committee that decides it? Or do I? What if I like being a pirate and a photographer, part-time model and Rennie gal? Is there something wrong with that? I don’t see anything wrong with that. But, people still ask me that question. And, after reading the amazing blog of a college grad who lives to travel, I felt the need to delve deep into my own lifestyle. So, what will I do when I grow up?
I don’t hide the fact that I’m a pirate. That I dress up on weekends to entertain folks. Or that I love taking pictures and will hopefully get more clients who request my work on a regular basis. I would love to be my own boss, not ever to step back into the corporate world… But making that jump from one lifestyle (the “normal” one) to the one I want (the “pirate” one) is a big risk. I have my own debts to pay off from college and beyond, and there’s always someone who has a bill due for me. That’s one of the pitfalls of owning a home.
But it’s what I want. I want to be a niche photographer who does a wedding one weekend and a cannon school the next. My hometown offers me that, so why the heck not? I want to travel up and down, side to side, over this country and visit every Renaissance Faire that’s open. Heck, I could even do photography there, too.
So, I want to be me when I grow up. I see myself as the photographer-pirate-model-Rennie-gal that I am now, only more fully developed (that was a pun on the photography, people). Settle down? Well, I’ll always have home base with the Soldier, which makes the idea of traveling a little less appealing. I like home base. I like knowing that the Soldier will be there for me when I get back from this short weekend trip to the Georgia Renaissance Fest. But, longer trips I want him to go with me. So, getting him to leave the house is the battle I foresee there. Either way, the home base will be there for me.
I am willing to grow up so long as I get to do it my way. I want to be a pirate. I want to be a photographer. And, no matter what, I think that lifestyle will make me happy. I don’t have to make a million dollars to be happy. I don’t even need to make ends meet all the time. I just want to do what I love. So, when some self-righteous senior comes up to me, converses with me, then asks me about the future and my plans for it, I’ll be able to say: If growing up means not doing what I love, then I guess I’ll be in Neverland for a while.