An old school’s anniversary is coming up. I’ve been invited, but I’m not enticed. I’ll admit, I’ve been there to one of them before. They told me I was one of the more realized people at the event. But I never even finished college for a degree. I left because I didn’t feel like I was *actually* learning anything.

But what does it mean to “realize” yourself as a person? Well, I know what I’m interested in, and I write every day. It’s as simple as doing it every day, isn’t it? Pushing the parts, piecing the puzzle, potting the plants. I enjoy what I do, and I learn more every time. That’s enough for me, even if I don’t make much money, but my life isn’t just me. It would be nice to be able to pay for small trips with friends or take vacations without needing to let anyone know. How do I grab that? It’s in the works.

But if I did, what would that look like? I could be a savant at writing uninformed opinion pieces, or I could drop what it means to be me. Maybe life’s about finding those fine lines and treading them until you’re gone. Enough wax. Let’s roll.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck

Shadows of these branches keep me in
The loafers in our dances need new trim
The aging fruity punch to spike the gin
A salty serenade to deck the rim

{Why am I
Stuck?
Preach for a
Buck
Two for the morning
Three for the show
Four to reborn and
Five you’re home
But I never did stay for a lecture and learn
So I’ll work to the bone ’til I fall for the burn

If six in the morning is fine to you
The treadmilling taffy and cold-pressing brew
Then maybe I’ll meet you some other new lives
We’ll fly through the heavens and shoot for the jive}