Oh nothing makes me want to smoke as much as marching band. I have been smoke free for three days, however, so I fight the temptation. Thankfully, everyone around me is attempting to quit as well so that makes things much easier. I’m not sure I am strong enough to survive the stress of little shitheads and friends enjoying nicotine without me. I admit it: I’m just not that good.

So speaking of marching band, yes it is that time for me. Not for me to march (that time is long past) but for me to teach the youngin’s how to count to four. That’s right, one, two, three…and four. It seems simple, truly it does, but trying to get a fourteen-year-old to count out loud takes jedi powers I have not yet mastered. This one kid, whom I thought was cute before tonight shrugged at me. The bastard shrugged at me!! AAHHH!!!! I was ready to kill him. I don’t think he realized how close he was to permanent maiming. I know, shrugging doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but let me explain.

I was attempting to communicate to him that I cannot help him if he doesn’t tell me what he doesn’t understand. So I ask him, ‘do you know what I mean when I say count?’ and he says ‘yes.’ I then ask, ‘do you understand how to count?’ and he says ‘yes.’ So the next logical question is ‘why don’t you count?’ He shrugged. I wanted to shake him until he understood.
I know more than you do! I wanted to scream at him. Do what I say and stop being a bratty teenager!!! Unfortunately phrases such as that are frowned on in the classroom. And, this kid seems like the type that might have crappy parents so I will have to watch myself. Obviously I shouldn’t be a teacher.

And that brings me to my next point of the night. (Oh such a good transition, enjoy it with me.) Do I really want to be a teacher? Is it really worth the school and the tests and the paperwork and the bullshit? I mean honestly. Does anyone know what they want to do at twenty-three? I know whom I want to sleep with, but I don’t plan on garnering a harem until about thirty. Maybe my priorities are backwards.

Wait, I got off track…

Work has been insane lately. I have been handed more responsibility, and I am now signed up for a 401k plan. That doesn’t mean I will stay there any longer than usual, I doubt I’ll last the five years it will take to be vested, but I am officially saving for retirement. If that is not a sign of adulthood, hell if I know what is. But a machine shop worker is not my goal in life. I don’t want to have the word "assistant" in my title for the rest of my life. I plan on attending school in the fall and seeing where that gets me but I’m not sure about the spring. I don’t want to work where I am forever, but I’m not sure teaching is the right route either. Graduate school would be nice, except then I’m back to being poorer than I am now. Why can’t I be happy and make money? Is it feasible for me to garner enough experience I could move some place larger and find big bucks and a career that challenges me but doesn’t drive me crazy? I might find happiness as a college professor, but at this point, the idea of pursuing masters and a doctorate seems daunting. I like school, love it in fact, but I like the financial independence of a career. Except right now I’m not very financially independent as I am dirt poor. Thank goodness I have such wonderful parents.

I suppose what this all boils down to is this—if any of you have figured out what you want to do with your lives do two things for me. 1) Tell me how you figured it out so I can maybe figure mine out and 2) go do it. For Christ’s sake if you are lucky enough to have even an inkling of what makes you happy you owe it to the rest of us to make it work for you.

I promise I am not above living vicariously through your happiness.