What will you be when you grow up?

I envy those who can write or say exactly what they wish to say. As for me, my words fly out of my mouth in some existential, transcendental way...I have no control of, which has nothing to do with how I feel or wanted to communicate. It is usually something entirely different than what I had in mind. The thing is I can't pinpoint my feelings or words, its usually something vague or extraordinary. And by extraordinary I mean nothing of the sort... (case in point btw) but rather something so unwittingly-attractively vague (because I couldn't convey any better) that it "SEEMS" that it MUST be extraordinary! Let me facilitate my point with an example. Very often, as I was growing up, relatives would be curious, "boro hoye ki hote chaash? daktar na baba'r moton engineer?" Now just to play it safe, politically-neutral, avoiding further questions or agony for the both of us in explaining her (it used to be mostly a woman who was o-so-interested in my future) why I think that being a doctor or an engineer is a mundane, uncreative, shoot-me, dead-end of a job for my taste, I would come up with this seemingly fleeting but witty answer, "An old woman. Who can stand erect, preferably." That was nearly ALWAYS my answer to "boro hoye ki hote chaash." And I could come up with this answer after careful deliberation for hours together, and meditating over it for several years in silence and solitude. Yes? Nooooo you daft idiot! That was my answer ONLY and only because my parents chose Telegraph over Statesman, simply because Telegraph had better budget, so colorful pictures, more supplementary readings like Graphiti on Sundays with the Survival Strategy column where midlife crisis guys, and desperate house wives and growing teenagers had wonderfully screwed up lives of sex, drugs, abuse, accuse, girlfriend-ran-off-with-my-petdog-Tommy-who-was-biting-my-wallet kind of troubled lives, and TeleKids on Thursdays. I researched (ahem) my answer once in a TeleKids jokes section. Thus, I had invested no amount of my intellect, which was always at a vanishing-point anyway, to come up with that answer. And since the answer gave out none of the expected, daktar, engineer, lawyer, teacher, fashion designer, interior decorator, baby-sitter, gardener (pati mali), barir-bou, realtor or the simple truth-- 'something with Minimum work, irregular hours, and maximum pay' or some such they interpreted my answer to be, "khoob philosophical! khub bhabuk meye. bah bah!" Thus, thanks to TeleKids and my decidedly undecided future I was deemed to be a Philosopher-in-the-making (not to mention an indifferent, lazy ass bum But who knew THAT!) in the matter of a minute of meaningless interrogation. Thus my plagiarized-vagueness elevated to extra ordinariness. See my point? Or don't see my point? Either way it proves my point. Coming back to my ineptness in writing or saying the right words... Not inspiring is it, coming from someone who aspires to be a full-time writer in the distant future. Yet again I throw in a few extra pounds more of distance in my shopping cart for Time before I start taking my life seriously or at least pretend to ponder about the job market. Humor me for a minute. Say there was this take out shop for Career. Like one of our own Wendy's or Starbucks where you could order your career just the way you want. Can I have a Career to go, with extra-Time, dework, nonfat (why not), nonstress with side orders of Name, Fame, and "soups" of Money... please :) "That will me $ Dream and run-to-a-shrink Cents Sir!" Next in line?