And I Don't Scream, And Kick, When This Shit Don't Fall In My Hands, Man...

I ran today. No I didn't just jog. I ran hard and fast like I was running for my life. And I seem to have sweated it out. The anxiety that is. The nagging feeling that has been plagueing me this month. Its going to sound silly. Its going to sound trite and self indulgent. But I keep dreaming that I am never going to be anything when I grow up. And when is that exactly? When is this magical moment where I realize that I am a grown up? Does it start and end with a hair cut- maybe and then maybe not. This run has helped me though- silly as it sounds. It put the little stuff into perspective- a little or in my case a lot of sweat will do that to you. I am an artist. I pay my bills. I live in a kickass house with half a ring of fire. I have a family, friends and a dog. In fact, what was my problem again?