My life is an episode of Blue's Clues.

Sometimes I feel like

my life is an episode of Blue's Clues

and I'm Steve.

I have a question--

what should I be when I grow up?

or

who do I love?

I start out confident

that as I go about

my daily activities,

clues will appear.

Clearly.

Marked by a blue paw print.

And I'll gather them

in my handy dandy notebook

and,

when the time is right,

sit in my Thinking Chair

and puzzle

and ponder

and muddle

for a minute or so.

And then,

with my mental prowess

and reasoning power,

I will hit eureka!

And Blue's Clues

will be solved.

But.

It's not that easy.

Instead of clues appearing

when I least expect it,

I search endlessly for them.

This book I'm reading for class

must be a clue

to what I should be when I grow up.

The way he smiles

must be a clue

to whether I like him or not.

I draw paw prints on everything.

Pretty soon, my handy dandy notebook

is full of drawings.

And instead of one fruitful trip

to the Thinking Chair,

I go there every day.

I languish there,

piecing together my clues.

Why aren't they fitting together?

Do I not have enough?

Have I combined the wrong ones?

At length,

I rip some clues out of my notebook

and decide I was mistaken about them.

But ten minutes later,

I'm taping them back in.

And at the end of the episode,

I look at the camera,

at the silent audience of children

watching behind the television screen

and say,

"I'm sorry.

We couldn't figure out Blue's Clues."

But that's because life really isn't

an episode of Blue's Clues.

There aren't clues.

It's not a riddle

that you can solve.

And no one gets mail that often, either.