Transitional life

Its all going by so fast, you know- time it won't slow down for me to gather my thoughts.
So all I'm able to do is just to fly by the seat of my pants, wondering where this great
spaceship will land and what I am destined to become. I'm working on myself now- trying
my best to focus on what it is that makes me who I am. It's been a long time since I've allowed
myself to be that selfish- but for the sake of my sanity and for self preservation there isn't much time left to waste before the life I will live is chosen for me. What do I want to be when I grow up?
I want to be a housewife rock star. I want to be a thrift store pin up. I secretly want to be famous but I cant stand crowds. Oh dear, we do have a lot of refining to do don't we.
It's all about money, changing hands. Who has it- who wants it- who needs it. The other night I went to some fancy new club and I never go to clubs it was so odd. I had to be home by 10 like some kind of whipped Cinderella- out with all the new mommies we were drinking our tequila and having a good time. Its hard to feel adequate when your societal shaping has led you to believe that you can't be good enough unless you bleed to pay the most. Haute couture. Tight bodies tanned legs and lip gloss. Ill never amount to all of that, and then the doubt creeps into my head again- oh how will I ever make up for this lack of perfection? Another shot, please.
Somehow, I am loud and I have a big smile and when I drink I don't care who you are I will talk to you. They came up to me- eagerly expecting to be entertained or at least engaged somewhat. I spilled my theories on the simplicity of men, the insanity of women, my feelings on new rock music and why Tupac is still alive. Oh man- who is this woman pouring out of my skin? Where is she when I need the confidence to smile when I just don't feel like smiling. She lives inside liquor cabinets and is called out by beaming neon lights. Sometimes I miss her, and sometimes she is just too much to handle. This night though, she served her purpose and everyone had fun- following me to the bar, climbing up on a stool and spilling cleavage recklessly to get served. It was standing room only, opening night- and we did not have to wait for our libations. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I can be anyone if I just pretend that who I am can wait in the car while the rest of us shake loose some tension.