Stop it

Who takes the opportunity to open their minds?
I cannot answer that question, but I feel compelled to ask it, because even though I reside in a university for the time being, I feel that many here have not done so yet.
In fact, I think the opposite has happened. Instead of "expanding my horizons" or some other American Dream bullcrap, I feel as though I'm actually being encouraged to enter a box. The only time my horizons are open is when I'm born. Anything is possible, but the possibility of change decreases with age. You become somebody in particular. You enter adulthood with a set amount of likes and dislikes, passions and pet peeves, loves and hates. And you become more easy to categorize.
It's easy to call children loud, annoying, and playful, but that's because they are just beginning to learn to emulate us. They enjoy a far greater range of things because they don't have a slew of expectations and fears and "personality traits" screaming in the back of their minds.
And for some reason, we tell them they can be "anything they want to be" on Sesame Street, and when they get to college, they need to get a job, keep the job, and retire at 65 with a beach-front house in Florida. Don't miss Parcheesi on Fridays.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is:
Why on earth is the world hell-bent on lying to me?
Why can't it just tell me right off the bat that I should seek a nice, steady job, a nice, safe house, and two and a half nice children? And why would I want a kid with a severe genetic defect?
All joking aside, I guess it's because we all want to feel like we have some degree of freedom in what we choose, yet so many of the things we want to choose are frowned upon once we reach our twenties. It's literally taking metaphorical candy from a baby.
Thus, you should tell me that if I do want a stable, easy life, I should pursue an engineering degree, find a nice, happy wife that's good at cooking, and have two kids plus a one-legged one. And a golden retriever.
And then tell me the things I should be worrying about. Once I'm dead, no one will remember what degree I got, how much money I made, or what I told my teacher I wanted to be in sixth grade. Maybe they'll remember my kid with one eye, but that's irrelevant.
But they will remember the impact I had on them as people. So, maybe, we need to encourage our kids to be for somebody else, instead of being for themselves.

Stop telling me to be what I want to be. It's a lie, and you know it.