Unreal, surreal, even fur'real, whatever. Will not accept without suffixes.

Drinking some Orange-Strawberry-Banana juice. So hsbdgaiurghkjsdt-ing good.

I'm waiting. I feel like I am always waiting. Is my life going to kick-start itself? Am I going to have the sudden revelation that I know exactly what I want to do with my next twenty years? The first twenty were just so fleeting, so simple and structured. I knew what I was doing year to year: School. When that stops...

And I don't want to be one of those perpetual students. Ugh. If this is what is in store for the rest of my time here. No.

But what! I can't just close my eyes and point at what I want, arbitrarily. Am I a fool for wanting more ready-made options? Most of the "adults" I know didn't decide on their current employment when they were twenty, why should I? Then again, should I model my own actions on theirs, if their unpreparedness at my age led them to a mediocre occupation? What to do, what to do.

Can't I just be a kid, like, forever? It's my favorite. That's what I want to be... when I grow up.

See, this is why I can't let go of that dream, maybe the only dream I've ever had. I have that one thing I know I'd like to do. But if I can't get it going now, when I'm young and supposedly without "adult" responsibilities (and adult sensibilities[=oxymoron]), who's to say I can get it going with contracts, deadlines, criticisms? Hell, that's all beyond the first elimination round. And what are the chances I'll make it past that. (No "?" because I don't need a reality check right now, just the ability to pour out my stagnant soul into this internet-box and ask rhetorical questions of blog-ghostland.)

As a wise young eight year old once asked: "Is this real life?"


Sound bites to inspire>>> Scratch My Back (Peter Gabriel) and Songs (Regina Spektor)