and then what? what??

oh goodness. 

if it's not one thing...
it's another.

if it's not your day job... it's your day duties.

i find myself fantasizng between bussing tables and post-shift beer imbibing about a time in my future where this day won't exist. this day where i wake up early to get into work early to run around like a restaurant chicken and be exhausted by 5pm and in bed by 9pm. 

i find myself fantasizing about the day where i wake early only to sip perfectly creamed coffee in my studio... where i get to paint what makes me tick ALL DAY until my back can take no more...into the wee hours of the morning... to be blissfully repeated the next dawn. 

where i get to choose the jobs i keep and the ones i discard. where i seriously don't need the money. where i can't pick up the phone because i'm honestly fucking busy. where the music is loud and uninterrupted. where this city embraces me and the country demands my work. where the museum writes me and knows me by my first name. 



and then i'm brought back to 9:22pm and simply nestled by the assurance that i don't have to hit the grind until 6pm tomorrow and i've got all morning to let the fantasies, the dreams, and all the other things that live in my head out to stretch their legs, run the grounds, and play.... until they need to be caged yet again. 

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