Jess of All Trades

I've been feeling a bit anxious lately. Somewhat unsettled. Here I am at the ripe old age of 30, and what do I have to show for it? No, seriously what?

Nothing hugely impressive to stand and point at and say "That! That there is my profession! My expertise incarnate!"

Hmmmmm. But a little bit of this and a little bit of that are what I have to show for my time. And something inside yearns for a legacy of sorts. Something to leave behind to say, "This was Jessica. There was no-one else quite like her." And the only tool I have to deal with this quandry at present is an embarassingly eager need to rhyme. Pardon me.

I've served, I've slaved, 

I've grown, I've shaved

I've healed, I've sewn

Someone else's, some my own

I've ran, I've sold

I'm getting old

I've cooked, I've dined

I've read and I've rhymed

I've built, I've broken

Some big, some just a token

I've birthed, and I've buried

I've lectured, I've studied

I've taught and bought

And caught and thought

Grew an art out of health

Juxtaposed poverty and wealth

I've driven in the president's car

I've hooked my trailer to a shooting star

I've cared and feared

I've bared and reared

I've travelled some places

I've learnt language, loved faces

I've handled the money

I've tried to be funny

I've done all the things that I ought to

And captured them all in a photo

A master I'm not

No expert, no pro

I'm reading the stars

and aching to go.