Running Away To Join the Circus

There comes a time, at least for people like me (if there are indeed, other people like me, which the jury is still out on), when you have to get creative about what you're going to do to pay the rent (and the cable bill, because, well, life isn't worth living without old movies, re-runs of reality shows, and the science channel). Because you know, not to be too gloomy or anything, life is short. Or at the very least, its length is unpredictable. You read (or watched) "The Last Lecture", you know what I'm sayin'. (You didn't? You should, even though it's been overpublicized to death, no pun intended). Yeah, I know, I shouldn't tell you what you should do. Fine. Do what you want, what do I care.

But you know, as glib as I am...(and I am, even if only to have the opportunity to write that word...glib...I mean, who made up that word, isn't it so great?)...I mean it.

Maybe it comes from visiting a wonderful sweet 5 1/2 year old boy in the hospital as he (and his family) bravely faces childhood cancer.

Maybe it comes from spending a whole day in an emergency room a couple of weeks back, only to find out after all kinds of tests and a follow-up visit to my regular doc, that there's nothing wrong. But of course there is (something wrong)--something that is, by the way, a whole hell of a lot easier to fix than most of the things the doctors could have found. I've even been cleared to run around a field waving my hands like an idiot and doing somersaults, which was really bumming me out to not be able to do.

Maybe it comes from feeling like crap after yelling at my kid, essentially for not conforming, which has just got to put me in the running for the Irony Award of 2009.

Maybe it comes from midlife, with all of its glorious temperature changes and sleep disturbances.

Or maybe it doesn't come from any of those things. Maybe I'm just waking up and smelling the coffee (which I'm not drinking anymore, but I still love that turn of phrase). Whatever. It's about damn time.

I've been feelin' for a while that one of those times is approaching. I am being thrust (note the passive voice) , after putting up the fight of a lifetime, into the realization that I just stink at some things. Conformism, mostly.

I've been reading books. Visualizing. Working hard on "trusting the path". Browsing yard sales for old mugs that say "Follow Your Bliss" or dog-eared copies of "Do What you Love, The Money will Follow". Yeah, right.

And I've been thinking. A lot.

I've got a lot of ideas so far. No, really, I do. Some of them are even good ideas. And some of them might even make enough to pay the rent, with food thrown in for good measure (whoa, I'm giddy just thinking about it). Some of them, you'll be sad to know, are actually reflective of my academic training and work experience. But chin up--it's only some. You'd be surprised at some of the things that interest me (or maybe you wouldn't). Like this, for example:




I ask you, who wouldn't want to do that? I mean, summer is approaching, the fairs are every weekend, the average joe and joella are easy to please (I mean, really, there's a recession on, people just want a reason to smile), and it doesn't require pushing any papers or negotiating with anyone or being a particular age or having a certain degree or dressing any special way or extolling your virtues or even really getting along with people. There's no big capital outlay, you don't need investors, and best of all, you don't have to justify anything to anyone. And no matter what you do during the week, it's a weekend gig. And my kid says she's in. Perfect.

No. I saw it first. Okay, so it was on youtube, where anyone can see it. But I still saw it first. Because I said so, that's why.

As for the other ideas...I'm not tellin'. Because I don't have to. Stay tuned. I probably won't be able to keep my mouth shut. But no copying. For real. If you don't believe me, listen to the girl. She means business.