The Realities of Having Your 'Dream Job'

So, as many of you probably have realised by now, the reality of growing up is far from this glamorous, romanticised version of life that comes across in books, movies and TV. There are some crazy responsibilities such as eating right (not having pasta 3 times a day), making money (not living off £15, and spending £5 of that on cheap wine you don't like) and looking forward to future you (in a way that has some correlation to your personal interests and maybe, perhaps, if your lucky, your degree you slaved so hard over).

Now, having graduated 2 years ago, after feeling very much like an adult throughout my university life, I can safely say I was such a child throughout those 3 years. I didn't look after myself at all, and I'm happy I made it through with an acceptable grade and work i'm proud of from my final exhibition, but what have I done with that creativity since? I've killed it by getting a job I could have before said would have been a 'dream job', something I could never have imaged my anxious little self managing to do.

At the interview for my dream job it looked as dreamy and unreal as I thought it would be, the ocean, the travel, the photography, the people... all so interesting and exciting!... The reality I got consists of stepping on eggshells pretty much 24/7, 31/12, 365 days of the year. You know the basic rules but there are 1000000 ways to do it all wrong, with a tonne of loop holes than you - as a lowly employee - have no idea exist, and are not informed about until its A) too late, B) too late, or C) too late.

Sailing around the world is amazing, waking up somewhere new is amazing, I would carry on trying to work my way around breaking those eggshells for a few years to come. I love this job, I love the people, the places, the sunshine, the rocky ship in a cyclone, the guests, it's all fantastic!... But if I could just wrap my head around all these fine details that are not made apparent at the time they should be, or need to be, for my personal needs and requirements to be met in a way that makes the almost slave-like hours worth it.

The romanticism you find in movies is such a long shot compared to real life. Take Sex In The City for example, Carrie Books lives in a wonderful apartment in Manhattan, as a writer, buying all these expensive things and going on frequent lunch dates with the girls etc etc etc... Have you ever googled how much it costs to live in NYC? Let alone rent an apartment? In correlation with the wages a writer actually receives? I have lived in NYC only in hostels, and let me tell you even that it is not cheap. Like central London. Or Sydney. Or Dubai.

So I would say I'm a flexible person, you have to be to work at sea, but I'm sitting here currently wondering if my last email could have been my resignation because the rules have changed again, the goalposts have moved, and I am - once again - wondering where on earth I stand with a job that changes shape as often as the ocean.