I found this article today.
http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/print.asp?ID=2725
It's not so much of an article as a list. A list of Scientists who died mysteriously between 2001 and early 2005. It offers no theories or accusations with these coincidences, just the facts; who they were, how they died, and what they were working on. A LOT of these guys were Biochemists, or working in some way with human disease and biowepons. These guys were at the forefront of their feilds. They had studied for years to know the intricate details of their chosen feild, memorize jargon and formulas and facts that most of us couldn't being to understand. They each saw the world in their own unique light, explored their own solution to the major world problem they were curious about.
I wonder what they found? I wonder how many hours and binders full of research died with them? I wonder what will happen to their notes. Maybe they'll get filed. Maybe no one can read them, or they were all written in code. I wonder how many of them woke up that morning with a 'Eureka!!' in his head that could turn the world upside down? I wonder how many of them were sick at the time, how many scared.
I feel sorry for the bodies that didn't make the most graceful exit from this world. I feel sorry for the families that didn't get the whole loved one's body back. I shudder for the 300+ scientists (In less then 2 years!!) that disapeared in Iraqi.
Knowledge is power. These men and women were working with very specialized knowledge that a small fraction of the world could understand like they could. It seems like very specialized people wanted to keep the power to themselves.
I think this list is a small piece of a very big puzzle. Its a bright bit of yellow in Van Goh's "Starry Night"; the color makes it a star, but it doesn't show you the whole picture. I believe there are people that have so much power over other people's lives that they have transcended government, boundaries and laws. And I believe that in order to keep the lifestyle they enjoy and the power they weild, they have to keep other people in place, which is, of course, below them. Coincidental deaths of many scientists is just another way to keep people sick and ignorant. The best part for these mysterious power-weilders? Its so far fetched it sounds like a conspiracy theory. But when you just look at the list of scientists...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Brick
“You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
She took a deep breath, swung, and connected the brick to the back of the other girl's head. The crack of a fresh coconut cut the silence. Then a startled “oh!”, an innocent, surprised oh, the sound of someone walking in on their parents kissing, and Ophelia hit the ground. Angela was on her immediately.
With all her strength and frustration and anger, Angela raised the brick over the fallen girl's head, and brought it back down. Again and again the brick connected with Ophelia's head. Again and again a slippery thwok rang out, the brick in Angela's right hand getting redder and redder with the warm wetness of the inside of Ophelia's skull.
Ophelia's back spazzed out. Her arms shot straight out in front of her, superman style style. As her blood splayed the sidewalk, her legs comically kicked and jiggled, a dying clown. As Angela's blows scraped Ophelia's face against the sidewalk, breaking her teeth and tearing her cheek open, Ophelia lost control of her bowels.
Again and again Angela brought the brick down, till her fingers were cramped, her knuckles were torn and raw, and a deep concave had formed in Ophelia's skull. Ten times, twenty times... Angela couldn't count. All she could do was repeat the same forceful motion, red eyed and breathing through her teeth.
Soon, Ophelia stopped moving. Angela slowed, and stopped. Her dark olive sweater was covered in blood. Flecks of bone and tissue specked her glasses. She pulled a long blonde, bloody hair out of her mouth. Throwing the chipped and bloody brick to the side, Angela stood up to assess her work.
“Oh. Look at that” was the first thing that popped into Angela's head. “This is probably the first time I've ever seen Ophelia with a hair out of place”, was the second.
More than just a hair was out of place. Ophelia's long blonde locks weren't even blonde any more. A whole chunk was missing, ripped away to expose the shy skull underneath. A dark stain collected around her crotch, leaking out the sides of her tiny miniskirt. It matched the maroon puddle growing under her head, and the sick stink of shit and copper weaving its way through the air.
The adrenaline built up in Angela's head behind her eyes started to melt its way down her body and out the soles of her shoes. In its place came creeping the realization of what she had just done. She was going to get in sooo much trouble. The fact that no cars had come down this usually busy street... that no neighbors were walking dogs or on the streets... there were no curious faces peering out windows... Angela had been very lucky so far. But luck runs out. Her shoulders shuddered in remorse for what she'd done. Not because she killed someone she had known since before either of them had mastered the art of shoe tying; she didn't regret that at all. But she mourned the consequences that were to come.
After a few minutes of quick panic, Angela gathered her resolve. No. She was not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. She was going to get away with this. Angela grabbed Ophelia's right arm and dragged her lifeless body to the patch of shady trees between the neighborhood houses. Ophelias body flopped. Blood trailed behind her. Her arm twisted out of its socket. Ducking behind some underbrush, Angela spotted a grill leaning against the nearest house. Right away she realizes what she has to do.
Angela undressed the dead girl. Ophelia's cardigan was covered in blood, and her dress was stained with piss and shit. Angela put them on anyway. Her own clothes got even more blood spackled on them when she put them on Ophelia. Angela pulled Opelia's purse out of the way, and emptied the bottle of lighter fluid from the grill on the body. Striking a match, she gave a quick nod to her former friend, and tossed the flame her way. The body blazed instantaneously. Taking one last look at the life of her former self, Angela tossed her wallet on the body. Olivia's car keys in hand, Angela slipped away.
Six hours later.
Twelve hours later.
Two days later.
After five days of waiting for the sirens, her pulse racing with every knock on Olivia's door, Angela began to relax. News of the death of Angela Horn spread around the neighborhood. Never had Angela been so well liked. Never before had she been as pretty, as smart, as fondly remembered as when she had been beaten and set on fire by a crazy local homeless person. “A shining star”, her boss called her to the Channel 4 news camera. “My best friend in the WHOLE WORLD!” her roommate called her. She had a lot of new best friends. No one really noticed Olivia Soothson hadn't been showing up to work or answering her phone calls.
After writing the proper goodbye and fuck you notes to Olivia's work, family and boyfriend, Angela got in the car and headed south. She stopped at a charming, quaint boarder town and secured a job at the local university. While teaching there, she met an up and coming local politician, married him, and became a spoiled trophy wife. Their three beautiful children went on to become important pillars in the community and every year the family would go on a cruise an~~~
A loud honk snapped Angela back to reality. She had followed Ophelia into the middle of the street, right in front of a blue pick up. She smiled sheepishly and stepped back on the curb. From across the street, Ophelia turned around, frowned, and kept walking, her little hips sashaying importantly away. The brick weighed heavy in Angela's hand. She stepped across the street.
“Well”, she said to herself, her fingers tightening around the brick. “You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
She took a deep breath, swung, and connected the brick to the back of the other girl's head. The crack of a fresh coconut cut the silence. Then a startled “oh!”, an innocent, surprised oh, the sound of someone walking in on their parents kissing, and Ophelia hit the ground. Angela was on her immediately.
With all her strength and frustration and anger, Angela raised the brick over the fallen girl's head, and brought it back down. Again and again the brick connected with Ophelia's head. Again and again a slippery thwok rang out, the brick in Angela's right hand getting redder and redder with the warm wetness of the inside of Ophelia's skull.
Ophelia's back spazzed out. Her arms shot straight out in front of her, superman style style. As her blood splayed the sidewalk, her legs comically kicked and jiggled, a dying clown. As Angela's blows scraped Ophelia's face against the sidewalk, breaking her teeth and tearing her cheek open, Ophelia lost control of her bowels.
Again and again Angela brought the brick down, till her fingers were cramped, her knuckles were torn and raw, and a deep concave had formed in Ophelia's skull. Ten times, twenty times... Angela couldn't count. All she could do was repeat the same forceful motion, red eyed and breathing through her teeth.
Soon, Ophelia stopped moving. Angela slowed, and stopped. Her dark olive sweater was covered in blood. Flecks of bone and tissue specked her glasses. She pulled a long blonde, bloody hair out of her mouth. Throwing the chipped and bloody brick to the side, Angela stood up to assess her work.
“Oh. Look at that” was the first thing that popped into Angela's head. “This is probably the first time I've ever seen Ophelia with a hair out of place”, was the second.
More than just a hair was out of place. Ophelia's long blonde locks weren't even blonde any more. A whole chunk was missing, ripped away to expose the shy skull underneath. A dark stain collected around her crotch, leaking out the sides of her tiny miniskirt. It matched the maroon puddle growing under her head, and the sick stink of shit and copper weaving its way through the air.
The adrenaline built up in Angela's head behind her eyes started to melt its way down her body and out the soles of her shoes. In its place came creeping the realization of what she had just done. She was going to get in sooo much trouble. The fact that no cars had come down this usually busy street... that no neighbors were walking dogs or on the streets... there were no curious faces peering out windows... Angela had been very lucky so far. But luck runs out. Her shoulders shuddered in remorse for what she'd done. Not because she killed someone she had known since before either of them had mastered the art of shoe tying; she didn't regret that at all. But she mourned the consequences that were to come.
After a few minutes of quick panic, Angela gathered her resolve. No. She was not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. She was going to get away with this. Angela grabbed Ophelia's right arm and dragged her lifeless body to the patch of shady trees between the neighborhood houses. Ophelias body flopped. Blood trailed behind her. Her arm twisted out of its socket. Ducking behind some underbrush, Angela spotted a grill leaning against the nearest house. Right away she realizes what she has to do.
Angela undressed the dead girl. Ophelia's cardigan was covered in blood, and her dress was stained with piss and shit. Angela put them on anyway. Her own clothes got even more blood spackled on them when she put them on Ophelia. Angela pulled Opelia's purse out of the way, and emptied the bottle of lighter fluid from the grill on the body. Striking a match, she gave a quick nod to her former friend, and tossed the flame her way. The body blazed instantaneously. Taking one last look at the life of her former self, Angela tossed her wallet on the body. Olivia's car keys in hand, Angela slipped away.
Six hours later.
Twelve hours later.
Two days later.
After five days of waiting for the sirens, her pulse racing with every knock on Olivia's door, Angela began to relax. News of the death of Angela Horn spread around the neighborhood. Never had Angela been so well liked. Never before had she been as pretty, as smart, as fondly remembered as when she had been beaten and set on fire by a crazy local homeless person. “A shining star”, her boss called her to the Channel 4 news camera. “My best friend in the WHOLE WORLD!” her roommate called her. She had a lot of new best friends. No one really noticed Olivia Soothson hadn't been showing up to work or answering her phone calls.
After writing the proper goodbye and fuck you notes to Olivia's work, family and boyfriend, Angela got in the car and headed south. She stopped at a charming, quaint boarder town and secured a job at the local university. While teaching there, she met an up and coming local politician, married him, and became a spoiled trophy wife. Their three beautiful children went on to become important pillars in the community and every year the family would go on a cruise an~~~
A loud honk snapped Angela back to reality. She had followed Ophelia into the middle of the street, right in front of a blue pick up. She smiled sheepishly and stepped back on the curb. From across the street, Ophelia turned around, frowned, and kept walking, her little hips sashaying importantly away. The brick weighed heavy in Angela's hand. She stepped across the street.
“Well”, she said to herself, her fingers tightening around the brick. “You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Ten Songs
Someone asked me recently to list ten songs that meant something to me. Songs that inspired me, songs that were associated with special memories or people.
Here's my list, as it was. Thinking about it now days later, its still true
1. Dangling Conversation - Simon and Garfunkel
This was my mum's music, and in high school I stole the cassette (parsley sage, rosemary and thyme) and played it to death because it reminded me of her blasting it all over the house when we were kids. This is my fav of the album.
2. Piano Man - Billy Joel
Same reason. And a great song
3. Orange Colored Sky - Nat King Cole (and me!)
I sang this with my jazz band when I was a senior in high school. It was awesome.
4. Ring Out Wild Bells - Alfred Lord Tennyson (lyrics)
I sang this with the region choir Jr year of HS. It was prob the most difficult song I've ever sung with a choir, but the night we preformed it, on stage with a few hundred people, a grand piano, and a giant auditorium, the swell of sound around and in me made me want to cry. It was beautiful and magical. I know that sounds kinda lame, but its true.
5. Float On - Modest Mouse
They're one of my fav bands, and when I saw them live was when I realized how much this song meant to me. Its a song about smilin through the hard times. Yeah.
6. The News From Your Bed - Bishop Allen
This band means a lot to me because my Sr year of HS I won a writing contest and got a script I wrote turned into a short film. This band let me use one of their songs as our main song. This song was not it, but it's the most listened to song on my itunes. Its about being alone on you birthday, but its totally upbeat. You'll have to hear it.
7. No Rain - Blind Melon
Blind Melon is an extremely underrated band. They've got an awesome discography, but this, their one hit, was my favorite song for a long time. It just makes me happy, ya know?
8. Sweet Caroline -Neil Diamond
Duh
9. It Doesn't Matter Anymore – Eva Cassidy
This is a cover of a Buddy Holly song by a dead girl with one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Helped me though some bad heartbreak. And its so, so pretty.
10. Playground Love – Air
Seeeeexxxy sexy song.
Honorable mentions:
shove it: Santigold
anything by the beatles (I can't pick just one album, let alone one song)
Sour Times: Portishead (the live version)
So Desperate: The Mountain Goats
I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: (only when sung by me)
Something off Paul Simon's Graceland
Here's my list, as it was. Thinking about it now days later, its still true
1. Dangling Conversation - Simon and Garfunkel
This was my mum's music, and in high school I stole the cassette (parsley sage, rosemary and thyme) and played it to death because it reminded me of her blasting it all over the house when we were kids. This is my fav of the album.
2. Piano Man - Billy Joel
Same reason. And a great song
3. Orange Colored Sky - Nat King Cole (and me!)
I sang this with my jazz band when I was a senior in high school. It was awesome.
4. Ring Out Wild Bells - Alfred Lord Tennyson (lyrics)
I sang this with the region choir Jr year of HS. It was prob the most difficult song I've ever sung with a choir, but the night we preformed it, on stage with a few hundred people, a grand piano, and a giant auditorium, the swell of sound around and in me made me want to cry. It was beautiful and magical. I know that sounds kinda lame, but its true.
5. Float On - Modest Mouse
They're one of my fav bands, and when I saw them live was when I realized how much this song meant to me. Its a song about smilin through the hard times. Yeah.
6. The News From Your Bed - Bishop Allen
This band means a lot to me because my Sr year of HS I won a writing contest and got a script I wrote turned into a short film. This band let me use one of their songs as our main song. This song was not it, but it's the most listened to song on my itunes. Its about being alone on you birthday, but its totally upbeat. You'll have to hear it.
7. No Rain - Blind Melon
Blind Melon is an extremely underrated band. They've got an awesome discography, but this, their one hit, was my favorite song for a long time. It just makes me happy, ya know?
8. Sweet Caroline -Neil Diamond
Duh
9. It Doesn't Matter Anymore – Eva Cassidy
This is a cover of a Buddy Holly song by a dead girl with one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Helped me though some bad heartbreak. And its so, so pretty.
10. Playground Love – Air
Seeeeexxxy sexy song.
Honorable mentions:
shove it: Santigold
anything by the beatles (I can't pick just one album, let alone one song)
Sour Times: Portishead (the live version)
So Desperate: The Mountain Goats
I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: (only when sung by me)
Something off Paul Simon's Graceland
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Ascard
I'm scared to blog! I haven't done it in such a long time. Maybe because I'm afraid of having to think about what to say.
But I started thinking tonight. For the first time in a while.
I don't have any goals in my life right now. I'm just kinda coasting. And I think I'm finally at the point where that isn't enough. Where I need to stop focusing on young, dumb, momentary fun, and start making really awesome things happen in the futre.
Maybe this blog can help. Haven't been using it a lot lately, maybe it can be inspiration. Or just another tiny goal.
Ode To My Bike
My bike was stolen today.
RIP Sabrina.
The bike I learned to ride on.
Short, cheap, comfy - you were just like the man that bought me for you.
We had some good times.
You will be missed.
And hopefully, replaced soon.
But I started thinking tonight. For the first time in a while.
I don't have any goals in my life right now. I'm just kinda coasting. And I think I'm finally at the point where that isn't enough. Where I need to stop focusing on young, dumb, momentary fun, and start making really awesome things happen in the futre.
Maybe this blog can help. Haven't been using it a lot lately, maybe it can be inspiration. Or just another tiny goal.
Ode To My Bike
My bike was stolen today.
RIP Sabrina.
The bike I learned to ride on.
Short, cheap, comfy - you were just like the man that bought me for you.
We had some good times.
You will be missed.
And hopefully, replaced soon.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I rode my bike home from work today, like I do every day. Every day, in one way or another I have to go up the side of that hill I live on. I know I will grow to hate that hill. I'm going to curse it, and dread it and avoid it. I'll pant, and sweat, and get so sick of having to treck home- even though climbing six flights of stairs was worse- that I'm not going to be able to stand it.
And then, soon after that, I'm going to conquer it.
I'll bike up that hill like I was being carried. It'll be easy, and my legs will be strong and show it. And I'll be proud of the hill and how hard it made me work.
Some days, I'll hate the hill again.
But I'll also know that I conquered it. And that makes it easier.
The bike ride home at night is short. However, its a cool bike ride, and I've always wanted to write a poem about it.
The absurd stillness of the empty street.
The blinding headlights.
The trees stretching over the street like an awning.
Like Hands.
A thousand tragic accidents replay over and over in my head,
thrilling and scaring me.
I stay extra alert.
And then, soon after that, I'm going to conquer it.
I'll bike up that hill like I was being carried. It'll be easy, and my legs will be strong and show it. And I'll be proud of the hill and how hard it made me work.
Some days, I'll hate the hill again.
But I'll also know that I conquered it. And that makes it easier.
The bike ride home at night is short. However, its a cool bike ride, and I've always wanted to write a poem about it.
The absurd stillness of the empty street.
The blinding headlights.
The trees stretching over the street like an awning.
Like Hands.
A thousand tragic accidents replay over and over in my head,
thrilling and scaring me.
I stay extra alert.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Fuck You
Copied from a myspace bulletin.
Our most versatile word. By its stress and inflection it
can describe many emotions. It can be used as a noun (I
don't give a fuck), as an objective (it's fucked), as a
verb in it's transitive form (the game was fucked up by
the weather), and it's intransitive form (I'll be fucked),
in the present tense (I'm fucked), in the past tense (I
was fucked).
It can be an an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in
John). It can also be used as an adjective(Mary is fucking
beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date
with Mary).
It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck
she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few
words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".
Many everyday expresions show it's true versatility ...
Denial -----------I didn't fucking do it
Perplexity -----------I know fuck all about it
Apathy------------ Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?
Greetings------------ How the fuck are you
Resignation-------- Oh fuck it
Derision ----------He fucks everything up
Suspicion ---------Who the fuck are you
Panic------------- Let's get the fuck out of here
Directions ----------Fuck off
Disbelief ---------How the fuck did you do that
Fraud ------------- I got fucked by the car dealer.
Trouble ---------- I guess I'm fucked now.
Aggression ----------FUCK YOU!
Disgust ---------------Fuck me.
Confusion ------------What the fuck.......?
Difficulty -------- I don't understand this fucking business!
Despair --------- Fucked again...
Pleasure-------- I fucking couldn't be happier.
Displeasure---------- What the fuck is going on here?
Lost -------------Where the fuck are we.
Disbelief----------- UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!
Retaliation----------- Up your fucking ass!
The word has been used throughout history by many famous
people. Some of the more notable quotations are:
What the fuck was that
-- The Mayor of Hiroshima
Look at all the fucking Indians
-- General Custer
Where's all that fucking water come from
-- Noah
Any fucker can understand that
-- Einstien
It fucking looks like her
-- Picasso
Where the fuck are we
-- Christopher Columbus
I'm fucking blowing bubbles
-- Michael Jackson
How the fuck do you work that out
-- Pythagarus
You want what on the fucking ceiling
-- Michael Angelo
Fuck a duck
-- Walt Disney
Why? Because it's fucking there
-- Sir Edmond Hillary
I don't suppose it's fucking raining
-- Joan of Arc
I didn't want to fucking go anyway
-- Sebastian Coe
I haven't got a fucking clue
-- Miss Marples
Scattered showers my fucking arse
-- Noah
She wants how much fucking money?!?!?
-- Donald Trump
Look! Almost every fucking kernel popped!
-- Orville Reddenbacher
We'll fucking smoke those fuckers out of their fucking caves!
-- George W. Bush
The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word. How can anyone be offended when you say "Fuck"? Use it frequently in your daily speech; it will add to your prestige
Today say to someone "FUCK YOU"
Our most versatile word. By its stress and inflection it
can describe many emotions. It can be used as a noun (I
don't give a fuck), as an objective (it's fucked), as a
verb in it's transitive form (the game was fucked up by
the weather), and it's intransitive form (I'll be fucked),
in the present tense (I'm fucked), in the past tense (I
was fucked).
It can be an an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in
John). It can also be used as an adjective(Mary is fucking
beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date
with Mary).
It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck
she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few
words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".
Many everyday expresions show it's true versatility ...
Denial -----------I didn't fucking do it
Perplexity -----------I know fuck all about it
Apathy-
Greetings-
Resignation-
Derision ----------He fucks everything up
Suspicion ---------Who the fuck are you
Panic-
Directions ----------Fuck off
Disbelief ---------How the fuck did you do that
Fraud ------------- I got fucked by the car dealer.
Trouble ---------- I guess I'm fucked now.
Aggression ----------FUCK YOU!
Disgust -
Confusion -
Difficulty -------- I don't understand this fucking business!
Despair --------- Fucked again...
Pleasure-
Displeasure-
Lost -
Disbelief-
Retaliation-
The word has been used throughout history by many famous
people. Some of the more notable quotations are:
What the fuck was that
-- The Mayor of Hiroshima
Look at all the fucking Indians
-- General Custer
Where's all that fucking water come from
-- Noah
Any fucker can understand that
-- Einstien
It fucking looks like her
-- Picasso
Where the fuck are we
-- Christopher Columbus
I'm fucking blowing bubbles
-- Michael Jackson
How the fuck do you work that out
-- Pythagarus
You want what on the fucking ceiling
-- Michael Angelo
Fuck a duck
-- Walt Disney
Why? Because it's fucking there
-- Sir Edmond Hillary
I don't suppose it's fucking raining
-- Joan of Arc
I didn't want to fucking go anyway
-- Sebastian Coe
I haven't got a fucking clue
-- Miss Marples
Scattered showers my fucking arse
-- Noah
She wants how much fucking money?!?!?
-- Donald Trump
Look! Almost every fucking kernel popped!
-- Orville Reddenbacher
We'll fucking smoke those fuckers out of their fucking caves!
-- George W. Bush
The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word. How can anyone be offended when you say "Fuck"? Use it frequently in your daily speech; it will add to your prestige
Today say to someone "FUCK YOU"
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Exerpt
I've always been a pretty successful person, considering. I wasn't born into this world with a lot of money, family stability or connections, but for my age and demographic, in my hometown, I was always kinda a star.
I was choir president my Senior Year of High School, President of the theatre club for the second year in a row, went to state competitions for various things three times that year and shot a sex ed film that is shown in classrooms all over the world now. I also starred in three plays and acted in two more. This is just an overview of what I was doin with myself when I wasn't in class (which wasn't a lot- I skipped at least one class a day, usually) or working (my senior year I worked at Hooters), or smoking, or fucking. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just sayin that I've always excelled at what I did. And that's just senior year.
I think it's cuz I had goals.
Now... I feel like I don't do anything I can put down on paper as "acomplishments". Yeah, I honestly love my life, and much happier than I was in High school.... But I'm not DOING anything with myself. Sure, I stay busy and active, and yes, I'm going to school, but I'm not even working on a degree! I'm jut takin classes and working to support my lifestyle. I have no savings or long term plans that make me want to save. I'd rather spend that extra twenty bucks on a gram.
I can see very easily how someone can end up working in a restaurant when they're 40.
But I don't want that to be me! I'm concious of whats goin on, so now I just gotta do something about it. I just don't know what...
Thank God I'm still young. I got an excuse. But if I'm in the same place in five years, or even three, that I am today, I'm going to get very nurvous.
When I daydream about my future, I see myself successful. Changing the world and affecting lives. But that don't mean shit unless I do something between now and then besides sit around and wait for it to happen.
It sucks that all my short term goals deal with money. If I gotta spend so much time focusing on rent, or work, or how I'm going to pay for this or that, when do I get to focus on L I V I N! not to mention my future.
Thats why the poor stay poor. They don't have any time to daydream.
I was choir president my Senior Year of High School, President of the theatre club for the second year in a row, went to state competitions for various things three times that year and shot a sex ed film that is shown in classrooms all over the world now. I also starred in three plays and acted in two more. This is just an overview of what I was doin with myself when I wasn't in class (which wasn't a lot- I skipped at least one class a day, usually) or working (my senior year I worked at Hooters), or smoking, or fucking. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just sayin that I've always excelled at what I did. And that's just senior year.
I think it's cuz I had goals.
Now... I feel like I don't do anything I can put down on paper as "acomplishments". Yeah, I honestly love my life, and much happier than I was in High school.... But I'm not DOING anything with myself. Sure, I stay busy and active, and yes, I'm going to school, but I'm not even working on a degree! I'm jut takin classes and working to support my lifestyle. I have no savings or long term plans that make me want to save. I'd rather spend that extra twenty bucks on a gram.
I can see very easily how someone can end up working in a restaurant when they're 40.
But I don't want that to be me! I'm concious of whats goin on, so now I just gotta do something about it. I just don't know what...
Thank God I'm still young. I got an excuse. But if I'm in the same place in five years, or even three, that I am today, I'm going to get very nurvous.
When I daydream about my future, I see myself successful. Changing the world and affecting lives. But that don't mean shit unless I do something between now and then besides sit around and wait for it to happen.
It sucks that all my short term goals deal with money. If I gotta spend so much time focusing on rent, or work, or how I'm going to pay for this or that, when do I get to focus on L I V I N! not to mention my future.
Thats why the poor stay poor. They don't have any time to daydream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
