Pallette

I feel like a life full of selflessness and sacrafice hasn't gotten me very far. Medocrity is masturbation and I'm chronic. Am I selling myself too short? or just not going far enough. There are days when I go to school that I dont speak to anyone, walking alone to class with a pensive mindset. My surroundings are the pallette and my mind holds the brush. Constantly moving, creating, understand, disecting things, objects, emotions, feelings, forever wondering the routine of life. How can I be great when I don't feel great. Achieve success when i fail. It's like floating in a bottomless pit. Let me rise, even let me fall, I don't want to be stuck. I feel like an idea, a fad. People swoop me up, hold on for life only to let go a while later, getting their fill and not needing anymore. I'm the backdrop to what you want. A shapeless piece of clay being looked at like an ink blot. I'm freedom, I'm expression, I'm hope, I'm what you want not what I want. An off set of sacrafice, willing to be selfless, self sacrafice. Leave's me no where, just circling question that can't be answered, circling answers that can't be changed. I am me, yet who is me. I know I. I am. I can. I feel. I comprehend. Me doesn't. Me can't fit. Me becomes the idea that you place on me. Enviromentally conditioned I. I am me because I am you. I am who you want me to be. Because you want me to be it. I can't change but me is ever performing dancing with the shapes of the dark playing with ideas resulting in perception. No one is being used, no one becomes a player in the game, fake becomes the scape goat but understanding is the answer. Maybe life is a dance with 2 way mirrors...I see you, you see me. Me is the you, that is I. If this makes no sense than slow down and think. Impressions are what we have. Time and Fate can be the statement of us. I understand that fate brough us together and that time changed everything. I understand that fate is me but time creates the idea of me. Waiting for that moment where time and fate coincide and mirrors are shed, and there is nothing to see but feel. I feel me. You feel I. I feel you. Time creates the bond and feelings keep the connection. We are all a process of our routine. The beauty is in that routine. The love is the abnormalitites of that routine. Where fleetings moments of our life transcend into our beings. The idea I hope is to bleed that into the routine. Finding the you and making it the we, the us, the you and me. Our routine. Where I am me because you are you. We are us because love understands. I may not comprehend life but I understand it, I may not comprehend girls but I understand them. I may not comprehend you but trust me I understand. I understand me because I understand you. No one can really comprehend love but I will understand it forever.

sometimes i feel alone in my own skin...

dunno

i got a letter from our senator Kay Bailey Hutchison

apparently she's rather happy about me trying to convince her to approve the Andean Free Trade Agreement with Peru and Columbia and other south american countries. She thinks that free trade would promote good will and generation more revenue for these fledgling countries. Apparently she's working close with the Ammbassador to free trade. She appreciates hearing from me and hopes i continue with my letter rally against bad foreign policy from the bush administration,

too bad the letter was a cookie cutter. Her signature is a stamp, and is so detached from the people. shame but the perfect example of why our foreign policy is bad right now people who want to do good but don't want to get their hands dirty.

Kay i do appreacate the reply more than others have done. So the money America saves from revenge tariffs and the increasing commerce between handmade crafts, i'll take you out to dinner, i know a quiet little chinese place. we can talk cuddle and talk about lifes woes and hopefully make love on top of the constitution. ha

Persuasion

The persuasion of life is the prosititution of hopes is the prosperity of self is the perception of identity is the personfication of ambitions is the plight of the imagination is the performance of that which is all the worlds a stage and I am but a performer in a stage full of the blind.

inhale

you know that first breath when you wake up....you don't, you can't, because it just happens. Than it's done. Left only with the next breath to take and time moving along.


that is my life.

heater...

my heads on fire and my stomach is weak. The joys of being sick, a long forgotten art form that I haven't experienced in a long time. Today will be my last mope day because i'm sick, I just wish I could call into work, seems like that is a common thing now (or actually always). Work just ruling my life. Usually I just don't care, I let it run me. But I think my eyes have been opened, maybe not quite the whole rubbed with mud and washed off now I can see the light. Yet like rubbing my eyes in the morning and letting the shadows became atimate. I wanna experience college, all I feel like right now is i'm just visiting. Foreshadowing of life. I wanna come in and take my shoes. All these things I use to do have disappeared. Church, friends, reading and movies, memories. Memories being replaced with to do lists and babysitting kids. Getting frustrated and coming home drained. Bits of exsistence fading away, taken for granted and taken away. Too many things competing means somethings gotta lose. I don't want it to be school. I don't want it to be chances, chances at something I use to feel, chances with late nights walking aimlessly, museum visits, hideaways, and all the warmth that follows. The more I stew on chances, the more I realize how fleeting they are, moments inbetween moments. Chances to do what is right or to do what is neccessary. To life or to breathe. To understands or to comprehend. I hold true the ideology something is right is worth fighting for, even if it's a losing battle, even if its you versus the volcano. In the end hope with dedication and perserverance will win out. There are no cliff notes to life, no shortcuts and no easy way outs. Only paths to follow and the choice is yours. Some are paved with limestone others fade into shadows, niether show you the end, only the fade to the horizon. Life is too short and too inconsistent to miss oppurtunities. Nothing is mulitiple choice only fill in the blank and I'm tired of guessing. I want to know the answers, give them a try and feel confident. Ultimately it's up to me, only one person is driving in your life and it's not a butler. Though God and fate might be a good GPS system.

foxhole

raise your hand if you've ever been sooo not excited to come back home.

*raises hand*



um...so much to say with so little to sleep will lead to eventual collapse sooooo...i will say that
you just know when something good is happening to you and you just want to keep that feeling as long as possible,well i've been lucky i've had that feeling for 4 days in a row

Generalities

The nature for which i am dispostioned to presuppose is all fun and games until someone get's there eye poked....

anyway Waco is nice, Baylor is beautiful, and the girls are just generally nice. if not for the pesky christian propaganda lol i might would enjoy that school ( actually i know i would enjoy that school) so it makes me think how much would life be different if I were in Waco and not Watauga...

speaking in generalities i'd be much happier.


what becomes of eventualities and neccessary occurences, stripped down you can't believe any of your sense (so says Descarte) because they lie, cheat, and decieve...so all i have to go on is intuition and the minds prowess to do what it believes to be the best for whatever happens. Happens, a fine line between happenning and happened. Split seconds that divide into eternity, eternity like the blink of an eye. Funny how moments even if ever so brief can be concentrated into the blink of an eye. I'll say that you can't predict the future and you can't predict how you want the future, only thing you can know for certain is your thoughts. and what I think is do muddled and confusing that it rings of truth. Truth just so happens to be the most confusing simpleton. For ever whatever you do, if there is no struggle, no strife, no conflict than what truth can that be. Things that are believable have to be a fight. Everything you take for granted will float away like rings of water from the raindrop. Only truth through it's constant struggle can make the waves on the beach shore. And what is more honest than the waves pressing against your feet...someone to hold upon your body and the breath of fresh air that follows.

truth

a romantic soul torchured by the constraints of a modern society for ever doomed to live in the in the ideas and not the realities.