My life is art, so who's buying?

I have always been a drifter, a social side-liner, an artist, a creator.

Before having a child this existence fulfilled me. I roamed our urban jungles looking for the next inspiration in the wrinkles of my sheets after a one night stand, and in between the notes of my favorite musicians. The sun rise brought me to my knees, or at least into crisscross apple sauce, with a blanket over my lap and a cigarette between my lips.

Now I feel horrible about smoking, because I know that children who are raised with parents who are smokers have a much higher chance of smoking and I want better examples for my son. Now I only watch the sunrise through my windshield as I race to whoever's house who has agreed to watch my seed while I delve into my 8am psychology class.

Once I stayed up all night long, spinning yarn with the best of them. In that world the ability to make a great pun or a clever association deemed me worthy of social contact.

Now when I think I am being clever, the lady at Food Lion rolls her eyes as I buy my $12 of organic produce, that I may or may not cook by the time all the other responsibilities are finished at the end of my 16 hour day.

I feel lost in this world. For the first time I don't want to walk the borders of society, I yearn for community and stability. But, here I am still who I am and that doesn't seem to cut it any more.

I don't want to drop out of school just because I thought after 3 years of raising our son alone, I could depend on his "father" to watch him while I was in class. I only needed 16 weeks. He made it three before he "couldn't hang" any more. Now, when Spring Break is over, I don't know how I will find child care to re-enter school. I am a straight A student for the first time since I was in 5th grade, and yet may still fail.

My life has always been art. Any job I have ever had my co-workers beg for the stories of the hours between our last shift together and now. Because I have an adventure every where I go. But yet, as fulfilling and amazing as all that may be, how do I use this to grow? Am I destined to be lost forever in this whirlwind of social construct, and if so, where does this leave my beautiful little gem, with a heart like a cool night in August?

I guess people like me were meant to be mothers, if nothing else I will show my son there is another way to live, even if it hurts more than the standard, at least you can feel it.