25 Years, A Couple More Days, A Couple More Goals

I'm sort of making a habit out of this aren't I. I meant to post these separately, one a day, but events have conspired against me. I figure most of you would prefer less blogs with more in them anyway, so here we go just three more after these...

5. Move out of Ruston. -- I know this one seems like the easiest thing in the world to do, but for those of you that are still in (or just left) the college experience, you know it's harder than it looks. A lot (although fewer and fewer everyday) of my friends are here. I'm comfortable. Prices are cheap, and drives are short. Every day that passes brings some luxury of big city life to our little burg, here in north Louisiana. When I first got here you couldn't even get a glass of wine with dinner, now they're building an "Applebee's." We've got a movie theatre, a fair amount of shopping, and plenty of food choices (especially since I only need two).

Never the less Ella and I are outta here. When? Well, probably March. That's when she graduates (probably). Where too? Hmmm. That one is more complicated. It looks (a little more everyday) like Baton Rouge. We both like it, and for some reason it just feels right. But it won't be easy to leave behind (what has become) my home. I've lived here for seven years. I only lived in Bastrop for seventeen, and for the first few of those I wasn't exactly aware of my surroundings. I like Ruston a lot, and will miss it when I'm gone. But it's also time for the Drunken Rogue to hit the road. I just the hope the Louisiana State Patrol doesn't stop me, they might plant some of Willie's weed on me.

4. Make a boatload of money. -- I just don't know how else to put it. That's what I want to do. Now, let me define "boatload." My parents weren't (and aren't) wealthy, but neither were they (or are they) destitute. We were nice, middle of the road, middle class. Most of my friends were, too. So I don't need a tremendous amount of money. I want to be "comfortable."

My father has worked his whole life using his hands. My mom is an educator, and while her job is obviously less physically taxing than Dad's it comes with it's own headaches. This is one of the reasons I want to be a writer. There is the potential for a good living at a minimal physical (or mental for that matter) distress. I won't have to hang up my pen (or lock up my keyboard) at sixty because my hands give out. It offers longevity.

So we're talking about a nice yearly income (doesn't even have to be six-figures) that allows Ella and I to take care of our bills, prepare for our futures and have some fun as well. Is that too much to ask?

It's almost my birthday, I managed to win a few fantasy football games this week, I got to play poker last night and it's Roadhouse show Monday. It's a good day!