Gone crazy, dunno if I'm ever coming back.

I caught up with the crazy train. Now I'm sitting on the roof, cuz I don't have a ticket, and I'm watching the scenery blur by while I fold clothes and inquire "are you finding everything ok?" I watched Burlesque tonight, and began wishing I was a thin, beautiful singer and dancer. But no. That is not my life. And thank God it's not.

The movies make that life seem so easy and sexy...desirable. I know that life...the life of an artist. I am one. Except I write, and take photos. I'm working on achieving my dream, surfacing above the cutthroat competition and seeing my name under a byline.

Rather than live the life portrayed by Christina Aguilera, I'm choosing to mimic Stephen King and Edna Buchanan: reach out to writing opportunities while trying to pay the bills with a low skilled, minimum wage job.

I also dream of love. I know that life too. I'm engaged to a wonderful man who is also chasing his dream. We drove into the desert...seeing employment and academic opportunities. We've both tasted the life styles we want, and now we're wading through the shit to get there.

Each day I fold a shirt, watch the clock, and count down the months until I can put the uniform away and walk into a classroom, eyes already glazed over in anticipation of a lecture.