when it comes to the path one ultimately takes in life, it seems like everybody's got somethin' to say...
~from my grandmother who spoon-fed me on showtunes and judy garland numbers - "oh, Amy, you're just our little star now, aren't you?" (twinkle, twinkle.)
~from my mother, the near-compulsive pianist - "oh, she's a musician. see just how naturally she takes to it!" (clutch palm to chest in twain.)
~the grandpa who liked to deliver lectures on photosynthesis & refractive light on our vacation weekends @ his home - "just think of what a mind like that could do in the profession of LAW - now wouldn't that be sumthin'?"
~the other grampa the preacher - "i doesn't matter what you do just as long as you're a good Baptist!"
~the younger sibling - "you're a Dork."
~from my cat - "my food dish is empty."
but in the end it seems the one thing everybody can agree on is this: "She's a writer." which serves as both a blessing and a curse - on the one hand it's always nice to gain recognition for something you spend so much considerable time on - on the other hand, then what? has the world decreed that this ought to be my path and nothing else? do i have any say in the matter? what if i still wanna be something - anything - a yogi, a painter, a clown, the next Laurie Anderson or Billie Holiday, a butcher, a baker, a friggin' candlestick maker????
i know 27 seems a little old to still be in that place of "figuring it out". but i don't care. i think you just gotta keep moving - love the things that come your way - plant the seeds you want to grow - and thank ya' kindly for the words of wisdom along the way... cuz my head's just kinda' big - to full of dreams and music that i haven't sung yet. and i'm not quite ready to squeeze it all into one tiny hat.
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