“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Um… well…”

“Like, what’s your passion?”

It’s a question asked by all annoying relatives and friends’ parents. My dad used to ask me that question all the time. My initial response, in my head, is that I don’t know because I’m only in middle school. But that doesn’t cut it, I guess.

I’m not going to lie and say, “I love computer programming!” or “I want to be a biochemist!” or “I’m going to go to Harvard Law School!”, because we all know that’s a lie. I suppose that all the relatives that I’ve only met as a newborn would think that I would be sincere saying that. It’s expected of me. After all, both my parents hold PhDs. And it’s the response my little sister would give. She wants to go to the Ivy Leagues and become a lawyer one day, which is great. She’d make a good lawyer. All of my irritating uncles are impressed. But I’m not my sister, or my parents, for that matter.

Maybe I could tell them the truth. Something along the lines of, “I want to pursue the arts when I grow up.” But that goes three ways: a) They think I want to be a concert pianist; b) They think I want to be a pop singer; or c) They think that I’m delusional and that I’ll end up selling handmade jewelry or playing my ukulele on street corners. None of the above is true. But it leaves a bad impression on people, so I don’t mention it.

Usually, when someone asks me about my passion or what I want to be when I grow up, I kind of just shrug. They give me a look and then proceed to tell me that I’m going to college in a matter of years and I’d better figure it out. Or else they laugh and say, “Oh, really?” And then I shrug again and walk away.

What does it matter to them what my passion is, anyway? They don’t matter to me; this is the first time I’ve seen them since I was six weeks old, and probably the last time I’ll see them for another ten years. In that amount of time, I’ll already be done with college, and I’ll be living on my own, and maybe I’ll already know my passion and I’ll have a job and I’ll be able to pay the bills. Without their guidance. Their opinion won’t matter at that point.

Or maybe I’ll be stuck selling handmade jewelry and playing my ukulele on street corners. Who knows?