I have wanted to be so many things in my life, but unfortunately, none of them proved to be realistic.
I so desperately wanted to be him:
Perhaps it was the rigid demands of working for the Man, but I soon left the force for more southern environs. In my new vision of a perfect career path, I was yee-hawing across all of Hazard county with these two fashion champions:
It must have been this dip in the country pool that made me fancy a musical career:
But cruel reality, as it always does, slapped me back to earth. My brother teased me for writing Princess Leia a love letter, Michael Knight never returned my earnest request for a working model of K.I.T.T., and one sad day I told my Dad I wanted to be a trucker. It was the only career left that still knew how to party.
What happens to a dream deferred?