There is a gaping pressure to perform and become something more inline with the standard expectation that we all face daily. To become a contributing and upstanding shill to the mockery lifestyle of the norm. Where an unabridged story of what life has really been like would cause discordant gasps and choking on $7 coffees. A land of spreadsheets and data with endless phonecalls and emails to confirm that we are all part of this droll and seemingly futile empire of dreams. Each moment will be etched as gray as the moment prior and only punctuated by the sycophantic bleating that denotes contrived success. But there can be joy milked from every endeavor, every adventure and journey of any kind. For all I lament the necessity of this change I recognize that this, as so much else in life, is temporary in passing. A gateway to attain a degree of comfort for myself and those that I care deepest about. Walking through the door framed in expectations is a moment of sacrifice and service to the good nature of love where we are willing to endure, seek to excel, survive and adapt all for the promise of a more easy smile. Once the game begins, I enjoy the race rat or otherwise. I’m programmed to enjoy the chase, the thrillingly mundane, the average existence. In some ways I know the unsuspected truth of experience, let it guide into appreciation for opportunities and a day not on the street or going hungry. For the leakless roof overhead the potential for participating in the world. I hate the side of me that is drooling at having funds available and the luxuries that they provide. Its almost as though my inner monsters haven’t been sated, are waiting for the next opportunity to scorch away the meat and tender outline of my flesh gone to pasture in the haze where hard living is the only pleasure to be found.