The Wheels on the Bus Go....

Round and Round, sucka!
All the live long day.
And yesterday marked another year around the sun for me, filled with bus rides and the turning of the screws, wheels, and worms.

Q: What do we make of that?
A: That I've spent my 26th year gnashing my teeth and spinning my, drum roll please, WHEELS, without making much of a mark upon the world.

Not even tire tracks. I've done a little climbing, made a few dollars, written a few paragraphs, but I haven't found any purpose, at least not yet. Maybe I need to find Jesus. I'll book a flight to Guadalajara and see what shows up. I hope it's tacos al carbon. Avocados renew my faith in that elusive, improbably myth man. Spirit? Triumvirate? Three tacos, please.

So on the bus just two days ago, I met a friend of Kate's (sig-oh) and Megan's (sis-toh) from their days at Lululemon (uh-oh, oh-no). They hated working there.
This friend of theirs, acquaintance of mine, got me started talking about work. Maybe it's because she is about to finish college and is looking at a world of employment as an adolescent begins to wink at the other gender. Potentially fruitful, often-times unknown, typically dangerous. Give it a go? I gave her my opinion.

I try not to work too much, I try to play more than is recommended by the FDA, and certainly the IRS. When I do need to work, I try to get it to coincide with places of play, generally Rifle Mountain Park and Indian (desert) Creek. I've somehow stumbled into a situation that pays me to go on vacation. Sure, I have to kiss the "man's" rings now and then, and provide for America's continued dependence on petroleum to fuel the economy, but hey....I get to rock climb a lot. It's almost as good as being a professional rock climber.

You do what?

I have no idea. Maybe I'll go back to grad school.

Why?

Because I don't really love my job.

Why Not? You get to goof off more than anyone else...

Good point. Plus, an MBA infers a certain focus on business (the B in the acronym, after all) and B isn't my A game.

Back to the drawing board, back to Rifle and the Creek, back to another year of the unknown. Welcome home.