Vagabond

I do not have a home in the traditional sense of the word.

My mom and little bro both have lives they are living.  I assume they like it when I am home.  I know my mom does, but, realistically speaking, I am just a person that shows up for a couple of days, every few weeks.  I'll bitch about how they have nothing to eat or drink, watch whatever shows my mom wants to watch on her DVR, do laundry (fold my mom's, if she has any), vacuum, go visit my grandma, and sleep on the couch.

I'm basically a vagabond.

A spectre that drifts into their lives intermittently.  An image that's occasionally in focus.

I could go on with the metaphors all day.

As I think about it, the only reason I truly 'want' to come home is to see my dog.  I adore the ever-loving shit out of that animal.  He just turned twelve and that's on the good side of the bell curve for Labrador life-expectancy.  He's getting really gray now; in the pads of his feet, on his belly a little, and even his eyebrows.  More often than not, however, he still has that quizzical, puppy look on his face and that makes me happy.

In fact, no one is home right now and he is laying next to me on the couch, on his back, feet up in the air.

- In other news -

I really hope I am able to line up a job (read: career) soon.  I found a couple of jobs I'm perfectly qualified for.  So after a little more work on my portfolio, I'll apply to them.  I would rather not be in Bloomington past this summer, but I can think of nowhere better to be should things not work out exactly as I intend.

I think they will though.

Remember: I'm an optimist now.  Muaaahahahaha.

Also, June was a fairly good month in the blogging department. Nine blogs in total.  That's around a blog every three days.  I'm putting that kind of consistency in the win column... or at least the non-failure column.

"Vagabond" - Greenskeepers