I looked for signs of interest, as all ambitious people do. As he put it - I was seeing what sticks. It was a nice conversation, albeit a busy one. My new friend was polite, engaging and honest, just as I expected he'd be.
But as I made my way to my car, I couldn't help but feel as if I'd just tap danced a poorly choreographed routine while juggling bowling pins and singing the halleluiah chorus. See, I only have a half talent for one of these and it's not juggling. It made me think of some advice I had been given by my parents. "Whatever line of work you would do for free, do that and you'll be happy."

Since that conversation, I have been trying to simplify. Instead of trying to be the writer, photographer, HIV educator, arts advocate, Eastern European spokesperson, poet, investor, social party girl who runs, does yoga, reads the NY Times, knows the Top 40 Pop chart, but listens to indie bands, gets everybody home safe looks hot even on Monday.... I'm attempting to give myself a break. Let's face it. It's the old problem - In trying to do everything, I am not doing anything particularly well.

This is a drawback for people who have many interests. Call us well rounded. Call us experienced. But don't call us on our cell phone at 6 am and expect to talk long. We are busy trying to save and inspire the world. We want to be little gods. All things to all people. Now, just who is going to recognize these half waking moments of clarity in my life, I have not yet figured out. I have been focusing in throwing all myself out there. I am just now checking out what sticks.

There is a time for persistence. And there is a time to take inventory of what is actually happening.

The following poem is about a guy I met who could use a career counselor and a little talk with my dad.

dear cowboy with rhinestone hat

you would think authorities would be called
but no
they let you out the door
singing your songs about death and life and jack daniels
comparing yourself to ee cummings

you're not even related

i spoke to god the other day
ran into him at the cinema
when asked about you
he laughed
"what do you care?" he asked
i knew he was right

and the girl who made my latte
tossed the word "desperate" into the air
like a feather
that could shut your whole engine down

so i am giving you this pen
as a symbol
a reminder
and a request

no one cares what bukowski looks like
he damn sure can't carry a tune
and you can bet he never tried to be one.

penny rené