Age 10. Some day I'm going to be a veterinarian living in the mountains surrounded by countless face-nuzzling horses, and I won't have to deal with anyone with fewer than four stomachs at all, and I'll live in a tiny fall-apart house with a proper fire, and that'll show them.

Age 15. (mired in the world of community-based group-devised youth theatre) Some day I'm going to be a real proper theatre actor dressed in layers and layers of enviable, slightly stinky op shop clothes, and I'll live in a tiny fall-apart house with a proper fire, and everyone will be envious of my l33t improv skillz, and that'll show them.

Age 16-22. Some day I'm going to decide to do, uhm, something, but I won't be a sell out and it'll be, like, totally politically engaged and good for humanity, and I'll do ever such clever things with butcher's paper and 'defining parameters,' and I'm going to totally change the world, and that'll show them.

Age 23. Some day I'm going to have a kitchen with enough counter space to leave a big old Kitchen Aid on the counter at all times, a red one, and I'll have all different sizes of those Le Creuset cast iron casseroles, in yellow, and a decent fan forced oven that can take more than two baking sheets at a time, and I'll never have toast for dinner ever again, and that'll show them.

Age 24. See above, but perhaps I could eventually accessorize with some polite, neatly dressed moppet of a child, perhaps like the kid in Mon Oncle?



Today, after enduring the Vic markets packed out with tumbling, mewling kids. Some day I'm going to have a cat. And a fully sick plasma screen. Yeah, that'll show them.