"Goodbye, May Kasahara."

I spent the other day accidentally trawling myspace for people I used to go to school with... yes, accidentally. What prompted this fit of voyeurism in me i do not know, could've had something to do with the wedding of an old friend I attended last weekend, seems i'm at the age now where marriage isn't something totally out of the question and shouldn't be greeted with the response, "are you insane?!". Ho Hum, i tried my hardest to not act like a grown-up, the free bar helped, but i was beaten in the anti-grown up behaviour by some surprising people in attendance... Anyway, it was strange to say the least, the wedding and my snooping into people's lives on the internet, through various hints and clues finding out that my delusions that I am actually still 18 aren't true... how sad.
The refining of my answer to the ultimate social gathering question, "so... what do you do?" was a toss up between -

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."

or

"Uh, i work at an after-school club and play in bands... yes, that is kind of the same thing i was doing when I was 16."