Not The Energy Drink

I've finally decided what I want to do when I grow up. I want to be a rock star. Not just any rock star, but a gyspy punk rock star. It'd definitely help if I was Romani & angry... Can I fake it? I must admit that my motivation lies behind being particularly interested lately in Eugene Hutz, and my love for Gogol Bordello.


Today, I want to be something completely opposite. Today, this Good Friday of corporate office monotony that offers nothing but decaf coffee (with a li'l bit o'cream & 3 Splendas), annoying sounds and donut holes. Today, I should be consumed in sweaty, crazy dancing and lyrical wonderment of my (non?)struggle towards creative and social enlightenment. Alas, I'm not now nor have ever been musically talented... and I don't really like crowds or sweat. Ha.

Please, please don't misunderstand my message. I appreciate my life. I'm happy to have a job. An apartment lease. A car payment. Daily vitamins, and premium gasoline. I guess I never thought I'd spend 5 years of my life working for a corporation, much less in "HR". At this point, it could likely be qualified as a "career". GAH! I'm a Career-Woman?! Just because this isn't my dream, doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. ...Sometimes. Now that I think about it, I feel like what I really enjoy is the interaction with my coworkers, and not the work itself. I mean, I could make a hell of a lot more money if I just did contract design work 20 hours a week. But now is NOT the time for freelance designers. (Especially self-taughts like myself [yeah! Perhaps I AM a bit of a gypsy after all!].)

It doesn't seem as though rock stars are affected by economic crisis. Especially when they're currently squatting in Rio De Janeiro. Then again, most rock stars don't have health insurance or a 401K, or a convertible miata :) I just feel bored, despite being so busy and stressed that I'm having middle of the night anxiety fits. I think the trigger of my emotional wanderlust is from evolving into some beast creature I never thought I'd be. And being somewhat content with it. So now, I must punish my brain for being stuck in a normal and comfortable zone.

I should shut up and be grateful for what I've got. Maybe I could just date a gypsy punk instead? That'd be some excitement, and the prospect of it is motivating me to start scouring craigslist... If only gyspy punks could afford the internet.