irony of a foolhardy statement

I often like to joke about the last two years of my life. Mainly because the majority of people in America view how I have chosen to spend my time as uncharacteristic, risky, and nearing foolhardiness (at least in the long-term security end of things). Not once or twice, but often people have asked me how I survive, what my future plans are and when am I going to get a real job. The joking comes into play here. My usual retorte to the last question concerning "the real job" goes something like this, "I guess I'll get a real job when my car starts to break down". In fact, I remember telling my parents this over the holidays.

Sometimes irony has a way of creeping up behind you and smacking you on the back of your head. At least it does to me. The car retorte was bound to eventually play out in America's favor. And it didn't take long to surface. As I was making my way back to Colorado in the beginning of January, Calli (who so kindly had been watching Jimmy for me) in few words let me know that Jimmy was in the shop to the tune of $750. Ouch. If that was the end of the repairs I might not have felt the heavy hand of irony, but alas a series of major and minor repairs were in store.

Without going into the mechanical details of Jimmy's issues, I have been rushed into thinking of real jobs. But the question in my mind is, "What is a real job"? Questions have always intrigued me. Like...when do you become an adult? Is it when you graduate from college? Or when you get your first real job (whatever that means)? Or is it when you own your first home? Or maybe it is when you get married. If the latter is true, then I may get to be a kid for a long time. Not a bad deal.

Back to the question of the day. What is a real job? Care to share?