I had a period this year where I really was planning to become a writer. I've always enjoyed doing the creative writing assignments in English class, and I saved up a collection of some of my good writing. I'm proud of it.

I took a creative writing elective in the second semester, and while it was enjoyable for a while, I came to realize that I'm 17; I have nothing to write about.

Sure, I'm angsty, as are many 17 year olds. You can see this in my work (http://beanpole.cjb.net). But beyond cynical, angry pieces, I have very little to say. I decided that my idea of becoming a professional writer was very misguided. That's a damn hard thing to be! I mean, what do you have when you have no good stories? You're a journalist. You crank out mindless pieces for the local newspaper.

Of course, I made the horrible mistake of actually telling my parents what I was thinking, and now my dad fixates on the concept that I will become a famous writer.

I wanna be an astronaut.