Or a hobo.
Seriously though, I’m going to be an accountant.
(This is everyone’s cue to feel sorry for me and shower me with nice feels.) I am returning to school to get my degree (one class left) and then get my Masters. Then I have to take a test to become a CPA. Then I have to get a job. Then I have to go to work. Then I have to cry in my bed every night because I hate my job.
It’s also important to note that my first years pay will be going towards a grizzly bear hunting trip to Alaska for my whole family. I told my dad we would go. I said I would pay. I have about 10 years (he gave me a limit: when he turns 61 he’ll be too old to go) to pull it off.
Lately it feels like I’m growing up and I don’t dislike the feeling, but at the same time I don’t care for it.
All I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a dinosaur.