When I grow up...

Some of you might know that I'm part way (well, I guess 1/2 way, since I'm up to my 11th birthday and I just turned 22) through my autobiography.  I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I finish it; I'm not sure that it will ever be finished.  I'm writing the story of my life not necessarily because I'm an interesting person, but mostly because I have a truly terrible memory, and if I didn't write it all down, I would forget my entire life.

I'm not sure if I'm going to publish it - I don't know if anyone would want to read it.  It's not really a story of great triumph over evil, or even strength in the face of adversity.  Sure, I've had times of being tough and strong in my life, but I've also had lots and lots of times where I've just wanted to give up.  

I'm out of things to blog for today.  I don't want to blog anymore about Christchurch; it's not that I don't love you, it's just that I have no words.  There's nothing I can say to make this better, or to go away or to even help at all, so for my own sanity, I need to take a step back today.  Instead, I'm going to share one of the stories out of my autobiography, about what I want to be when I grow up.  It was written in March 2007, and is unedited (except to add the photo of the cute baby).  It's just part of one story out of a chapter about 'what I want to be when I grow up'.  I'm not really sure how the autobiography is going to work, it's mostly a collection of short stories at this stage.

When I was little, my dad told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  This wasn't some sort of feminist 'power to women' thing; I think it was more because he was sick of answering all of my questions.  I've always been an interested person, if not an interesting one.  The difference between being interested and interesting is the first one, you ask all the annoying questions, and the second, people want answers for you.  Asking questions is something I've always done, and still continue to do - I always want to know 'why' and 'how'. 

Anyway, when I was about a year old, I wanted to be a taxi driver.  Believe me, I had big dreams from the very start.  This aspiration stemmed from a trip to Australia for a wedding - one of my earliest memories, in fact.  I was young, and hairless, and had a very beautiful dress.  Even back then, people LOVED me, I was very chatty, even if I did look like a boy.  Mum tried in vain to find a ribbon that she could tie in my hair to make me look like a girl (this also explains the dresses), but instead had to settle with one of those ugly headbands.  (I imagine I looked like this, but having seen photos, I can sadly say that I was WAY less pretty).

Anyway,  it probably won't surprise you to know that at a year old, I was already a fluent talker.  This can probably be attributed to the fact that mum got bored being a stay at home parent after the first week, and went back to work, leaving dad to stay home with me.  Instead of doing the whole baby-talk thing, he treated me much like an adult - he even refused to read me children's books and instead read to me from computer and photography magazines.  I remember being 7 or 8 months old and having full conversations with people in public, shocking them when I asked them to talk to me 'like a real person, I'm not a baby'. 

Our Australia trip (for the wedding, remember?) was about a week, and I was there with my parents and grandparents.  One day, we went out in a taxi somewhere, and the taxi driver was very chatty.  After a near miss with a tram (stupid driver tried to race a tram across the road; who fights with a tram, for god's sake?), we made it to our destination.  At this point, I announced to my family that when I grow up, I wanted to to be a taxi driver because it meant that I could talk to people from all round the world all day, I wouldn't have to walk anywhere (yes, even at 1 year old, I was lazy), and I could be a better driver than the 'stupid head' who just dropped us off.   My parents seemed unfazed by this revelation; perhaps they knew that I was going to change my mind over my life - or maybe they had already made up their mind before I was born.  I can imagine the conversation; 'Tim, if this baby wants to be a taxi driver when it's born, we'll disown it, okay?'

As I grew up, I had lots of other jobs that I wanted, probably much to my parents relief.  I've written lots about those too, so maybe I should share some of those.