swallowed alive

I'm tied to the front of a freight train hurling through the countryside at breakneck speed. I should be terrified, I should be afraid about what is around the next bend, I should be horrified of getting hit in the face with a goose like Fabio, but instead I'm just sitting around waiting, passive.

What happens when you get swallowed alive by your life's passion? People always pontificate about finding your passion and losing yourself in it, but what if you really lose yourself. Not some self help doctor Phil moment either. What if you wake up in the morning and outside of work have no idea what to do with yourself. Ok, so I've given up TV but my eighteen month old is a terrible conversationalist. I've read all of the right business books. I have a blog. I'm trying to be a better manager. I'm in shape. I eat well. I have good oral hygiene.

Well, I'm done. I'm over it. I'm over me. Like the last scene in "Fight Club" this whole world is my creation and my fault. I've been fighting an imagination. So I can't live in suburbia, but I also can't live in a self created chaos fighting my alter ego (who is oddly also Brad Pitt).

Welcome to results oriented life. Welcome to grabbing the dream out of the sky and putting it to work generating income instead of floating along giving itself a foot message while reading "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People". Welcome expectations. I don't care about giving it my best, I care about achieving and giving whatever I need to give to achieve. There is no gold medal winner for practice. There is no Grammy for the artist who tried really hard. No sales bonus for wanting something real, real bad.

It is almost 2010. I have a child. I've been in a stable relationship for a decade. What's with the preteen angst? What's with the "What should I do when I grow up?" I'm already grown, the real question is, what am I doing?

What are you doing?