I am not where I thought I would be at 28, but I think the me that thought I would be somewhere different had a busted road map with a rather misaligned compass rose. At this very moment, I just realized that it is called "rose" because it looks like a frickin' rose. Where were my elementary teachers on that? Or, better: where was I?
I spend a good deal of time thinking of all the things I could be doing and all of the things that other people are doing that I am not, namely speaking Italian and listening to indie bands with intellectualized names like The Musings of Eliot. And, after thinking about all of that, I realize that here I sit surrounded by possibilities in a log cabin with a lap cat and a lifestyle that screams "YUPPIE" but whispers "BUDDHIST ESCAPEE." I have always wanted to be a non-practicing Buddhist.
My dream is to be a high power music manager, kicking butts, taking names, and dropping f-bombs like loose hairs, but we all know, I have an odd penchant for ballet flats, a tough time with names, and already drop f-bombs with grace. And, music was never meant to be intellectual.
