real life

I love being with my family because I forget that my real life exists. I forget that I really live here, that I have a job here, that anything in the world is real and pertains to my life. I just get all wrapped up in the comfort and completeness of the cocoon of my family and have peace of mind... until they go and real life sneaks back in and stares me down til I succumb to its necessity. Why is it necessary? Maybe I'll go start a hippie commune in Humboldt- live like a gnome among the giants and grow fresh produce to sell, make sweet necklaces to sell and live off the land. Peace out, my friends.