I was looking for the hot tub party. Someone told me I'd find it in the lounge. Is it lounge or longue? Lounge, I think. Anyhow, I got to thinking about the fact that we don't talk too much about what we do--you know the kind of work we do--in these forums. And then my mind, miraculous tool that it is, followed up those thoughts with another: "Why is that?" To which I replied, "Well, you know, in their profiles people have a tagline that they can fill out about their career/job." And then I thought (I know--they just keep coming, these thoughts!) maybe people don't talk about it because there's not much to talk about. I've always dreaded jobs. I realize now, only several months before my magical 31st birthday, that it's the imposed job that I dread and not actually work. When I say work I mean play, in a sense. I mean the kind of work that fulfills me, connects me to people around me, connects me to my environment and communities, blossoms me, keeps me thriving and alive. And I've not yet gotten that from punching a clock or pulling in a salary, although there are a couple of jobs that came close. This whole time is money thing is whack. You know, like the kids say--totally whack. Are the kids still saying that? Somebody give me some feedback on my hipness. And I had another thought. One that asked a question: "If people could write stories about their lives, about how their lives would be, given no limits, what would those stories be like? What would my story be like?" And then I had a thread to post on CR. And here you are. No limits. All theories of gravity, God, all your ideas about Greek myths, faeries, pink aliens in tuxedos carrying fishing pools--all your preconcieved notions about your conditioned self and the world that conditioned you, it's time to put those aside. Imagine the aforementioned pink alien, but then put that aside too. Now really stretch your imagination. Think in terms of multiple universes, multiple layers of reality. Who are you? What's your story? Who or what do you aspire to be? Who do you want to be, given no limits? That's what the space in this thread is for. The page is blank and you have a box of paints, a can of pastels, a stack of old newspapers and crisp history books, all the worlds' mythologies to draw from--on one condition. You process them through your heart and imagination and come up with a good story about a you who is not you, who is some idealized, stylized you. Come into yourself. Make yourself. Who's first?