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I don’t think I could ever work nine to five because those are tanning hours. My hypothetical boss would walk into my cubical/glory hole and inquire as to where I was.
“She is at the beach,” Crystal (hypothetically) would say.
I would be fired before the end of the first week and would then, subsequently, sit at the beach wondering Why[?].
“Was it something I said?”

After I graduate, I plan on becoming the most educated bar tender this world has ever seen.
“Can’t you aim higher?” RG pleads whenever I tell him of my career goals. “Do you even have any bar experience?”
“I have spent a lot of time in front of one,” I reason.
Sometimes I wish that I could acknowledge and surrender to my supposed biological standing and chill in a kitchen to cook pies for my beloved.
“But you can’t cook,” RG reminds me, thus, really, once again shooting himself in the foot.
Life would certainly be easy if one didn’t have big dreams and a little thing called the Naivety Of Youth. Waking up and wishing to surf all day and eat chicken for dinner would be achievable and, day-in-day-out, I would feel like I had accomplished something meaningful. Instead, I see things like North Korea and think, “I mean, really, how hard could that be to take over? It doesn’t seem too difficult to run.”
In the interim, until I am handed the deed to my own rouge nation, I labour at a computer, proud that I am acquiring something that most people my age already have: a degree. Upholding what everyone should have: a dream.

RG recently asked me what I plan to do once I graduate.
“Well…” What followed was a twenty-minute articulation of ‘I Don’t Know’, which would have sounded worse if I didn’t have the vocabulary to say ‘Sweet Fuck All’ in a variety of different tones.
“I understand,” He prefaced, “That each generation is different. And everyone has to go through their bohemian phase…”
I thought that was all. Which was cool. Because I agreed with him.
“But eventually, you get real.”
I went to bed [with my scotch], panicked. What is real? I had nightmares involving electricity bills and spreadsheets and then, next day, rebelled by lighting a candle.

I recently saw a girl my age pushing a stroller. She was smoking and I was not. So, I admit, I did have a certain level of jealousy towards her.
“Imagine if that was your day,” my girl friend announced. “Just wiping someone’s ass in between episodes of Oprah.”
“I wonder if you can study for that?” I pondered. “Poop: 101.”
Because I love nothing more than [naked boys] a challenge, I am flying to Los Angeles to beg, lie and steal myself into a job a mere nine hours after I hand in my final masters thesis. Which, ironically, is on the Virtue Of Honesty.
“I am possibly the only person in the world who would choose to find work in a country that is deep into a recession,” I moaned to my boy friend.
“Isn’t that when the most drinks need to be poured?”
Unfortunately, to appease both the United States Government and my father, my initial job out of university must correlate with my chosen degree. So, in a perfect world, I will be the bar tender who muses…
Desperate for a new adventure, in a new city and new people to play with, I decided that I would forgo tanning and prison myself in a nine-to-five cubical[/glory hole] if it met the former criteria and, thus, excited me overall.
“What would you like to do?” my L.A. girl friend enquired, offering to help my unemployable-self.
“I would wipe your boss’s ass for six months if it validated my Visa,” I told her. “I am in no position to be picky.”
“Righty-O,” she responded. “I will see what I can do.”

When I hear that someone has had a baby friend, landed a job doing sweet fuck-all or invaded a country, I get very excited If they have done so on the back of their own choice, climbing towards their own dream. The only time I ever have a problem [other than when Pizza Hut gets my order wrong] is when someone follows a path that they have been preconditioned to believe is right, not what they think or want to be right. Every one can mindlessly do what everyone else before them has done, I reason. But it takes bravery and, to be honest, a certain level of loneliness to go out There and use the Naivety Of Youth as your only asset to attempt the impossible. Whether it is birthing a child or a country is irrelevant, each are just as foreign to the person who is inexperienced, and the reward for achieving either dream is equally euphoric.
“And you put bar tending in this category?” RG asked.
Apparently, the older generation fails to see the genius behind joining Jack Daniels to Diet Coke. I mean, really, why else do people do science degrees?

My boy friend and I sat in a bar for the entire day, respectively working away at our assignments and thesis, each drink edging us closer to achieving our goal.
Plagued with stress and deadlines, we escaped the real world by indulging in our desires.
“Can I have two Jack and Cokes?” I asked the bar tender at one o’clock. Within minutes, she made my dream come true.
By five PM, we were baked.