Live at St. Elmo's

There is a little ache at the base of my skull. It's not like any headache I've had before, and I'm almost positive it is a result of the recent quandary I've been in regarding work. I need to work, I want to play. I don't like sitting around at home all the time(if being on disability has taught me anything, it's that). I lull too easily. My sleep has been up around the ten hours a night mark. Been a while since I've done that.
I could sell cell phones. I could pretend that self-employment equals self-enjoyment. I might have to work at the Wall Street Journal. that is funny.
Button-down shirt hides tattoos. Change from stainless-steel tongue stud to clear. No more "Fuck Art, Let's Mosh" T-Shirts.
I can live with all of this.
But when do I become self-sustaining?
It never occurred to me in high school that the molds I didn't want to fit into on general principal could have been used and thrown away. 
Imagine me as a college graduate, I'd be devastating to the status quo. If I was full of knowledge instead of shit, I could turn anyone on. Light up the minds and bathe in the glow of their euphoria.
I guess I've always lacked focus, except when I was nine and wanted to be a cop like my dad. Even that life would have been more stable. I have romantic notions of a blue-collar, but I wouldn't ever be truly happy being collared at all.