Attempting Ambition

Tomorrow I turn 25. Somewhere between college, a dog, a marriage, the start of my career, a few thousand laughs, and some beautifully cultivated relationships, something terrible happened.  I'm almost never late, but in this instance I lost track of time. The only statement that comes to mind is, "what the fuck?". Not very literature worthy, I'm aware. I would say that this is a quarter life crisis, but the chances of me living to 100 are slim. depressing. I'm half way to 50. sickening. Young Adult: 18 – 24 years of age.            Bye Felicia. The inevitability of my birthday has left me a little consumed. It’s been two years since I graduated college and seven since I graduated high school. Actors and actresses and singers and boy bands and celebrities are younger than I am. When did that happen? My life played out like some dusty photo album on the coffee table. Tomorrow will mark the start of another year of dreams, ambitions,

I am up to do just about anything for some extra cash. Over the last 6 years, on top of sipping a lot of caffeine to support my overtime habit, it would not be abnormal to find me in a blood donation chair twice a week donating plasma for beer money or spending weekends in a facility where generic medication was tested on me for the price of couple thousand dollars which paid for my wedding and a trip to Africa. I am a slave to the almighty dollar. Money makes the world go round. This means that any legal opportunity (hold the prostitution jokes) I have to make a little extra cash, I typically go for it. In July 2014  I decided that I was going to donate my eggs to a stranger and in return I would get $5,000.   I put in my information in an on-line application and one week later I had a 30-40 page packet in my mailbox. This included all of the information about the donation process. It also included a profile packet that I was to complete and return. I let all of this sit on the

On cold winter days , she used to beg her father to take her to the Mississippi river 's edge . She loved the way the cold wind felt on her pale , wind-flushed cheeks . She marveled at the sheets of ice that would give the fearless little girl the urge to jump on and see where the river would take her, but most of all , that little girl loved the gulls . She enjoyed watching them fly above her head , and the sounds always made her giggle in delight - so many squawks. She also adored feeding them the stale bread from their pantry . The way they skimmed the water to grab the soggy piece of discarded food , the way they would fight each other for alternating bites . She used to give them names and pretend that they were a gigantic family who relied on her and daddy to feed them in the winter . A family who cherished her as much as she did them. Her father would watch , i