pardon me

God, I love this.
And as I could down the last 2855 seconds ’till the end of my shift, I feel its truth coursing through my veins. My tired, burned out veins.

Makes me wonder what the hell I am doing at age 53 trying to blog just to make my frickin’ real estate website rank better.

Or allow your humanity to strip all possibilities of a career? It felt really good to chuck my job as a brand manager to become a full time dancer / creative movement teacher.But when my bank balance begins to dwindle rapidly at the end of every month, I really wonder.

I was watching “The Next Best Thing” last night, and a Dolly Parton impersonator told about a conversation where someone said to her “In 17 years, I’ll be eligible to retire.” She said that was the moment she decided she wouldn’t take a job where she’d just look forward to quitting… and thus the big blond wig and big, well, you know.
She sure looked like she was having a good time.