I really don't want to grow up

As I was recently skimming job listings, it occurred to me that I am on the verge of becoming a true grown-up. I'd always dreamed of entering the world of grown-ups -- after all, they get to rent cars whenever they want, stay up late to watch R-rated movies and ride the big roller coasters. It all seemed too good to be true.\nAnd it was.\nAll of the privileges I'd associated with adulthood turned out to be letdowns. Oh sure, rental cars are fun-- unless you have to rent the car because you dropped the $3,000 transmission out of your normal source of transportation. \nThe R-rated movie thing was cool for a while before Hollywood stopped making any decent movies! \nAnd the roller coaster deal was great until I realized it was merely a metaphor for my life -- lots of ups and downs followed by prolonged vomiting. \nPlus, adults have to go to work every day. Am I wrong for not looking forward to this? \nIt is one of life's greatest ironies that we spend the majority of our lives at work, making money that will buy things we will hardly ever use because we spend the majority of our lives at work. \nThis would be fine if work were something we enjoyed. Unfortunately, your job will probably leave you with the same unsatisfied feeling you get about an hour after eating Chinese food. \nThink about it: even if you are lucky enough to snag a job doing something cool and worthwhile, it's going to get old after a while. Even sex and chocolate get old if you overindulge. I'd say eight or more hours per day qualify as overindulgence, wouldn't you? \nAnd what if you land a job that pays well but requires you to sell or process some product that means nothing to you? What then? A $60,000 salary might not be worth having to numb your entire being just to get out of bed and go stand on an assembly line and make toilet plungers all day long. I have the utmost respect for those among us who show up at a thankless job, day in and day out, tirelessly taking tiny steps up the corporate ladder just to bring home the bacon. I just don't know how they do it! \nI can see you are ready to mark an "X" in the box titled "lazy bastard" by my name. But I must gently urge you to holster that pencil, cowboy. I love to work hard -- as long as I'm doing something meaningful. I can tell you right now I would not accept a job as a telemarketer even if they offered me a six-digit salary and the keys to the company Ferrari. Unless, of course, I had a secretary who took all my calls. \nSociety tells us our occupations define us as people. This is why most people at parties are quick to ask, "What do you do?" Conversely, it is also the reason it's not socially acceptable to answer, "I like to sing karaoke to a group of anatomically correct mannequins I've assembled in my basement," even though this statement might, in reality, say much more about your personality. \nPerhaps we should try making small talk with more relevant questions, such as, "What is it that keeps you from driving your '87 Chevy Celebrity off a cliff?" Although you might not make as many friends with a query of this nature, you cannot deny that this would spice up the conversation.\nMost advice is worthless, but not mine. Why? Because I am smart. Even though I am only 23 years old, I can tell you for sure you are wasting your time if you don't choose an occupation that will challenge and intrigue you. Otherwise you are cheating yourself and your would-be employers. \nTake big risks and dream big. You don't want to end up trapped in a cubicle, watching the seconds pass like hours, wondering where your life went. \nOK, I'll get off my soapbox now. I'm supposed to sell five of these steak knives before tomorrow anyway.