Yuppie

Work, rinse, repeat.

The weekend's over and it's back to the office and my existance as a yuppie. Yes, I'm a yuppie. I don't know when it happened, or how, but it did. I've got myself a cubicle, a Volkswagen and an iPod. It's a good life, but I really am amazed on how life just kinda steers itself.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?," the teachers would ask. I was always the kid in class that could never answer the question. All the other little boys and girls could never contain themselves, and would always shout out two or three different choices. And over the many shouts of "Doctor!" or "Astronaut!" or "Dancer!" was little Adam, sitting and thinking about it. It wasn't that I could pick out my favorite – I couldn't pick anything.

As I think back, I'm really glad that the question stumped me. There's no possible way that I could have seen the path my life's followed. Stuff happens. Friends come and go, people die, and new opportunites spring up without warning. The whole trick seems to be not to worry so much about the navigation, and just to try to live well.