It's this messed up thing: when you're young you just want to grow up. You just want to get a nine to five, pay bills, feel like an adult. Maybe you spend hours of your life watching T.V. or researching some paper you can't wait to think about every again. Go out. A lot. Have stupid laughs.
And then you grow up. You get over to the other side where the grass seemed so lush and it's AstroTurf...crappy AstroTurf! And the gate is closed, my friend. You're stuck with the fake grass.
I feel like I used to go out so much. I feel like I used to have so much fun. I used to dream about things, and every once and a while even make them happen. Now it's all about figuring out how to live the dream, when I'm stuck in some sort of lucid purgatory where you know it's not reality, and the return to reality is pending. I guess what I'm saying is right now I'm a bit of a hopeless dreamer. Not hopeless as in there's no hope that I'll ever learn, but hopeless as in dreaming hurts because it feels like a giant tease.
The setup is you can achieve anything you want to: the reality is maybe not. Things might get in the way. You might not be as skilled in something as you think you are. And even if you are, how good are you at marketing yourself?
I've learned if I want to go anywhere that I really want to go, I've got a lot to learn. Cyclical thinking and sentences...I'm in a phase of being jaded and disappointed. I don't know what I thought I'd be doing, but sure didn't ever think I'd be working in a call center. There are countless ironies centered around my working in a call center, which I won't bother to get into.
Usually, I'm a suck-it-up, do-what-you-have-to kind of person...and keep a smile on while you do. I would totally do what I love...if it paid the bills! So I just keep shooting at what I see, hoping something gives. My bank account and my heart kind of need it.
