NON-FICTION • 29
BY PAULA MACENA
P
ursuing a creative career means your college advisor asking you if you’re really sure. Three times in a row. And then asking if you have a backup plan. And when you say no, they sigh, and tell you again how hard it is to break into whatever industry it is. And you say you know, because you do. You’re not dumb, you’re just in your 20s still planning on being the thing that you said in first grade in response to being asked for the tenth time what you want to be when you grow up. Look at you, you’re so
cool and smart, trying to do something some sevenyear-old dreams about for one night and then changes their mind about in the morning. But you haven’t changed your mind, have you? You’re not going to wake up tomorrow morning wanting to be an astronaut, are you? Look at you, being more decisive than a sevenyear-old. Suck it, kid. You can tell off your younger self all you want. You can pretend you’re better than them and pretend that their hopes aren’t higher than yours currently are. Go ahead,
