Working the menial job.

It takes me an hour to go to work...

One of the most beautiful hours of my day. I spend it with my love, passing by the ocean... talking about things of life.

Then I walk up to the organization I always wanted to be apart of... just not quite like this.

I sit down at a phone booth. A simple chair to sit in with a blank desk in front of me. There's the headset, the one which makes my ears ring for hours after my shift, and the simple dialer. I pick up the phone, and invade people's lives for hour.. after hour.

I hate my job. I hate the approach I have to take toward things, I hate that it doesn't pay enough for my love and I to live off of. I also hate that my other job was a scam...

For this is what I really want to do: I want to be one of those street performers. I want to get a keyboard, be different and perform with a keyboard instead of my guitar all the time, but switch when I feel the need. I want to live off the energy of this city, and surround myself with people.

I want to allow myself to dream! Just as I never did before. A dream awakened by things which I never thought possible. There are dreams of white, dreams of chubby cheeks, dreams of living off of my music and my writing for the rest of my life.

I KNOW I can do this. All I've ever wanted to do is make music, write, and stay home with my family.

Unfortunately right now, I just have to work the menial jobs.. until my dream becomes a reality.