"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

-Someone important whose name I can't remember.

But life doesn't provide you with the sugar, blender, lemon peeler or - most importantly - the recipe. I don't know how to make lemonade from only the lemons.

There's probably some kind of special recipe, perfected by each subsequent generation of the Limone Family. They will market the recipe next year, when life decides to give me strawberries. Then, they'll tell me to make strawberry shortcake. I don't have that recipe either.

I need some answers about life, and I need them now.

Anticipating graduation is not a bowl of sugar - it's more like someone giving me a seed that will one day grow into a sugar cane plant that will one day produce sugar. It's up to me to provide water, an adequate amount of sunlight, the right kind of soil and lots of love. On top of all that, I need to plant the darn thing at the right time of the year.

Confused? Me too. Want some help? Me too.

I'm having nightmares about my future employment. I dreamt last night that my mother was a volunteer firefighter and was trying to rescue me from being engulfed in the flames of homelessness. When I woke, I decided I needed to make some decisions about my future profession.

Here's what I came up with, in no order of preference:

The Journalist (a.k.a, Lois Lane wanna-be)

The bottom line is that I'll marry Superman. Isn't that enough?

Realistically, I'll end up living in some small suburb the size of Chauncey, covering the city council meetings where the most important issue is whether Mrs. Smith's golden retriever really did eat Mrs. Jackson's canary. I will call Washington, D.C., from my four-walled cubicle and ask them what the nation's policy is on people's dogs eating other people's birds.

On the other hand, I could achieve my ideal dream of being a foreign correspondent to some country like Brazil and saving the remaining one percent of the rainforest in South America. I will become best friends with the town's medicine man and learn that grass is a herbal remedy that cures cancer. Together, we will eradicate the disease.

The World Traveler

I will work in London for six months following graduation and travel throughout Europe. I will ski the Alps, have rendezvous in Paris, drink thick German beer and feast on native Italian foods. I will be in heaven on the weekends and in hell on the weekdays.

During the week, I will tend bar at a cockroach-infested bar and have beer thrown in my face. Drunk patrons will think it's funny to hit on the American girl with the accent. I'll live in a run-down shack, which is over-run by termites. My only consolation will be the company of the poor sap of a friend that I dragged there with me.

The Upstanding Lawyer

After three years of horrendous, nail-biting law school, I'll be a public defense attorney for some industrial city like Youngstown or Toledo.

All the really important cases will get turned over to me. Oh, yes, I will be the Judge Judy-like attorney who tries to sway the jury that my client absolutely did NOT steal the Brady Bunch board game from her ex-boyfriend's home.

I'll earn a whopping $30,000 a year and have over $100,000 in loans to pay back.

The Writer (a.k.a. Thoreau wanna-be)

He went to the woods because he wished to live deliberately. I'll go the woods because I want to live - as cheaply as possible.

If all else fails, my writing is a fail-safe skill that may keep the water running, the heater heating and the electricity on. Maybe I can sell articles to Glamour or Vogue about the latest eyeshadow craze in the deep woods of Montana. Maybe I can write articles for Backpacker magazine about the reliability of GoreTex boots.

Who knows.

One thing I do know is that reading the directions on the toothpaste tube doesn't help much. I can't squeeze life from the bottom up for the best results. If I could, maybe I'd be able to see into the future, grow my own sugar cane and invest in the Limone Family lemonade recipe.

Until then, I'm buying my mom a pair of yellow, rubber boots and an oxygen mask to fight the fires. After all, dreams might be disguised prophesies.

Emerick's next stop is Career Services or McDonald's - which ever offers her a job first. Got a career suggestion? Send her e-mail at be278896@oak.cats.ohiou.edu.