Easter Sunday, Payson

I feel destined for greatness, even if my greatness is only to be great at being myself. I am the all american man, a product of the american experiences I have to this point mentally digested and sub consciously allowed to conform my being.

Be it impossible for our minds, in their natural state, to understand all that is to be understood? If so, should we still strive to understand all that we can, or should we merely accept the fact that we as a race are slightly more developed than all those we know of that surround us, and in light of that understanding, be content to carefully balance extracting the most pleasure possible from life and having a long life?

Why am I the all american man? Because I understand how things are and accept them. Because I am educated. Because I am hard-working, enjoy my time to myself to pursue my individual pleasures. Because I know things should be different and accept that. Because I know things will never be perfect. Because I accept that my country is not right, but also because I appreciate all the things I don’t even realize I take for granted because I was born in this country.

Why do I have so much self confidence? This is a question I cannot answer. I do not know from where it came, how long it will stay, or, in the event that it leaves, why it will do so.

Remember every song you ever heard, every book you ever read, every movie or play you ever watched. Remember every fine piece of artwork or black and white family photograph, and the emotions all these experiences brought forth in you. Now, right now, any time you choose, is the time to act on these feelings. The time to make your own story. If you choose to do so, you can at any time. Its like a free pass you carry with yourself all the time. Naturally, if you choose to let life take you where it will, that is fine. I personally don’t think that’s an appropriate decision, but up to this point in my own life, I feel as though I have been pushed by the winds. The only direction I have taken is in my mental reaction to the instances which have changed my trajectory. Sometimes I make conscious decisions, based on pleasure or need (are there any other reasons to make decisions?) but did I really make those decisions, or were they simply a reaction to things which had already happened-reactions which I thought were my decision, but ultimately were just a necessary occurance for the unvierse to continue as it should? Are things really that inter-connected? Is all in everything, are we all a part of the same one thing? Why is so much of life devoted to pleasure? Is that truly the goal? What about enlightenment? Is it achievable? If so, and even if not, why are we not constantly striving for that? Or are we, and we don’t even know it? I suppose everyone pursues what to them is the best, based on the experiences they have gone through-power, control, pleasure, enlightenment. But why did each of us go through the experiences we have gone through? Do our actions affect people we don’t even know, people dead and people unborn? I mean little actions. Is there any way we’ll ever know? Why do I wonder about these important questions, yet most of the time wander along apathetically, working and playing and counting my money?

It was not her un-understanding of things, but her unwillingness to attempt to understand things, which I did not like about *. “I don’t understand, and I don’t want to try to understand” was the gist of my perception of her position several times. This I abhor. That, and the tendency for people, when in the face of something difficult, i.e. learning a new sport, to sit and be negative, or at least not constantly attack the ineffieciency at hand until it is demolished.

I might be just a tiny bit enlightened. I think everyone is though, and I have just realized that what I considered before to be simple pleasures (admiring nature, finding joy in pure existence) were perhaps short bits of enlightenment, bits which we all feel from time to time.

One of many good quotes from Aldous Huxley’s “The Doors of Perception:”

“In a world where education is predominantly verbal, highly educated people find it all but impossible to pay serious attention to anything but words and notions. There is always money for, there are always doctorates in, the learned foolery of research into what, for scholars, is the all-important problem: Who influenced whom to say what when? Even in this age of technology the verbal humanities are honored. The non-verbal humanities, the arts of being directly aware of the given facts of our existence, ale almost completely ignored. A catalogue, a bibliography, a definitive edition of a third-rate versier's ipsissima verba, a stupendous index to end all indexes - any genuinely Alexandrian project is sure of approval and financial support: But when it comes to finding out how you and I, our children and grandchildren, may become more perceptive, more intensely aware of inward and outward reality, more open to the Spirit, less apt, by psychological malpractices, to make ourselves physically ill, and more capable of controlling our own autonomic nervous system - when it comes to any form of non-verbal education more fundamental (and more likely to be of some practical use) than Swedish drill, no really respectable person in any really respectable university or church will do anything about it. Verbalists are suspicious of the non-verbal; rationalists fear the given, non-rational fact; intellectuals feel that "what we perceive by the eye (or in any other way) is foreign to us as such and need not impress us deeply." Besides, this matter of education in the non-verbal humanities will not fit into any of the established pigeonholes.”

Roadtrip Diaries

Roadtrip Diaries
3/24/06
Roundtrip AZ-MA


Daydreams
Keep me awake
Put me to sleep

Goals? Or just that-
Idle amusement
A joy to discover
A world of excitement

Will the future reveal
Powers of the mind
Or will I just forget
These silly ideas

They are so real
So pure and exact
Is it my imagination
Or a vision of the future?

Who is to know
Who is to see
Who can tell
Who can decide

How many times
Have I thought this before?
Is my mind not controlled by itself?
Do I really want this? or-
Is it just entertainment?
Do I decide that?
Or does the universe?

Powerful
Decietful
Dreadfully entertaining
My mind is a mine
Always digging into the unknown
As often as not
Spewing something surprising

Nobody knows
Nobody sees
What will come
What will disappear

Hopefully the dreams are visions
For they were beautiful
But if not, they are only a sign
That my imagination has not died.
............
Apartment in the mountains
Me, stopping in when I can
Drinks, a movie, dinner, sleep on the couch
A kiss if the mood is there

Friends, not quite anything more but almost
Gray areas
Good talks
Trips, picnics
Exploring the country

That’s what I want when I think of you.

...............

Freedom
My life is in my hands
I can mold my future

I don’t know what I want
Not lost, just unsure
Not making a move until I’m sure
Pawn to black six
Or rook to black nine?

Standing at the edge of the woods
Many trails before me
Is each one right in its own way?
Or is only one correct?
Am I a fool to think I can make a right decision?
Do they all lead the same place?
Does my decision make a difference?
Does anyone know?

I’ll follow my heart
I’ll do what I want
Whatever seems right,
Whatever feels natural
Wherever I end
There I will sit
Think about the path
And hopefully decide it was the right one

I think life will be ok
No matter what will happen
What might have happened
What could have happened

At least, that’s the way it has been so far.

................

The road
Turns your mind inward
When you’re not looking
Suddenly
Out spews so much
You only half knew was there
Like a stew pot brimfull with vegetables
That only appears to be broth

Dreams, but are they?
Perhaps visions, most likely not
Fun nonetheless

Wanderings
Both a mindtrip over land
And a walk through your thoughts

A sleep when you can
Hunger when it comes
A pee when it fits
A drive when its time

It was time for a rinse cycle
So appeared the road trip
Perfectly timed
To slow me down from this recent speedtrip
To decompress, evaluate, think, process

Across the nation
Visiting friends
Time and distance become meaningless
Insignificant in the face of other,
More pressing needs
Reality warps
Patience
Patience
Patience

................

Music and scratching
Cramped legs
Lack of blood

Bad drivers
Bumpy roads
Toll booths
Shitty cruise control

Relative lack of stress
One purpose, one goal
Go there, return
Safely

Fall asleep when you should
Monitor the vehicle
Enjoy thyself

Roadtrips are all the same
Roadtrips are all different
Roadtrips are roadtrips
And that’s why we love them.

..............
Burnt out on things to say
Burnt out on looking out the window
Burnt out on stopping, going, sleeping, driving, thinking, sitting
Far from finished

The length of a roadtrip should be carefully considered
And ability to adjust is paramount
Know how deep the pool is, and how long you must swim
Before you jump in
I need a lifejacket

..............

Its amazing how fast one can do from what was just a few hours ago a sure idea, a plan for the future, to a similar, yet totally different plan. And how both of these plans is far detached from what, just last week, was a concrete plan. Luckily, they’re all good plans.

The year in review, 2006

The year in review, as of November 15, 2006

I went to jail in Arizona, a wedding in Illinois, celebrated the Fourth of July on a boat in the Gulf of Mexico, and hitchhiked in Colorado. I drove over 20,000 miles in my new truck, almost 5,000 on my new bike, and around 6,000 in a company truck, on a one-week trip from Flagstaff, Arizona to Massachusetts and back. I didn’t get high when I was in Jackson, Wyoming, but I did in Houston, Texas and the Shenandoah National Forest in Virginia. I searched downtown Atlanta for coffee with a Russian girl on a Sunday morning, and fell asleep by the pool in Virginia Beach on a Saturday afternoon, with an American. I sat on a dirt road outside McPherson, Kansas until four in the morning talking with an old friend, and walked seven miles in the woods of Indiana, talking with another one. I was searched three times. My grandpa died. I sat by his side for fifteen hours, after traveling halfway across the country in about twelve, after a 1500 mile road trip. I’ve been from Ithaca, New York to Pocatello, Idaho and from Jackson, Wyoming to Pensacola, Florida. I spent three months in a camper in the Rocky Mountains and wrote this in a FEMA trailer, two blocks off the beach in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Today we woke up, took the dogs on a walk down the beach, sat in the hot tub, and then decided to not work the rest of the day. Last weekend we took the boat out and watched the Blue Angels do their flying demonstration. I made some new friends, got rid of some bad ones, and was blessed with the rekindling of some old ones. Its been a good year.

Reading this now, in my current location…man did this year take a turn towards Even More Crazy! Soon I will update this…

Bike thoughts (this one makes me cry)

It is July 28, 2006. Today I moved most of my bike stuff from Denver to Walden. As I unloaded them, I took a moment to sit and admire them. I feel as though they are my children, and I will bring them up as I see fit. I will create them, and they will serve me well. It did my soul well to sit and look at them, touch them. I got back to a place of peace, a feeling of calmness. It had been too long since I even thought about them. You there, with the clean, nimble lines, you shall become a canyon-carving apparition; you—the one with the menacing snarl and meat hanging from your teeth—you shall become a fearsome chopper, an epic for the ages, that by which to measure all other choppers. And you, the one with the heavy, low frame and wide, ground thumping engine, you shall become a straight-line powerhouse, an awe-inspiring display of brute force and domination. And you shall all sit in my garage, quietly lined up, seemingly calm yet each desperately hoping to be chosen for the day’s ride, be it a quick jaunt around the block or a day-long exploration. You shall be joined by the shiny, bright, wheel-spinning Harley at your side. And I shall look upon thee with glee and admiration, and pronounce it to be good. Very good.

Just two days ago, maybe one, my newest hair-brained idea was to hunt for lost gold in Arizona. Today, after watching The Constant Gardener, I wanted to move to Africa and help people, improve humanity. Then I unloaded the bikes, that which used to be one piece of transportation and has been, mostly by myself, deconstructed into a conglomeration of confusing and confused parts and pieces, and realized all I want to do is make money and pour it all into bikes. These bikes, my bikes. The ones that I have chosen. Or have I chosen them? Was I lead to them, instead? How did the three of them and I come to be in the same company? Anyhow, I would be happily broke if I spent my days wrenching, cutting, painting, adjusting, slowly approaching, both with anticipation and sadness at the end of an age, the day when they will be complete again, improved upon, better than the design and manufacture at the time of their birth. Then the shakedown period, then the years of awe each time the garage lights come on, or perhaps when they don’t, and winks of reflection hint at the raw emotion hulking, hiding, prancing, pawing to be let out, in the garage. I will find more playmates for them too, old bikes, dirt bikes, enduro bikes, cruising bikes, new bikes, faster bikes….some choose drugs, some choose gambling, I choose wrenches and files, grinders and micrometers, oil, rubber, and metal. Call it what you want. To me, it is Saturday night and Sunday morning, all wrapped up into one sensation, all enjoyed at the same time.

I spent some time working today

I spent some time working today. Its so hard to find enough work to work hard all day, and its hard to keep working when you know there’s no real push to do much of anything more than just enough to validate your job. I was encouraged by my enjoyment of hard work, as I was afraid I would be unable to work hard upon returning to the states after such a long period of relative inactiveness.
I spent a fair amount of time surfing the net to find pictures of surfer girls, waves, beaches, and sunsets-preferably all together. Upon reviewing my downloads, however, I discovered that some of the pictures had not downloaded completely. I am reconciling myself with this fact. Its not the pictures I wanted, but the classically romantic thoughts that my mind associated with them. Beaches and sunsets help me become calm, return to square one, slow down an reflect, or just not think. Surfer girls are attractive because they’re fit, good at a sport they love, and in tune with the mother, mother earth.
The day was finished off with a concert by Charlie Robison and Kevin Fowler, two very good, accomplished Texas Country musicians. I have wanted to see them for some time, but never thought it would be here. The show was similar to the Cross Canadian Ragweed concert I drove all those hours to see in Colby, Kansas in that we stood at the back, with our beer (this time without the crucial ingredient) and talked amongst ourselves. However, this time, we were able to go up afterwards and shake hands, get an autograph (what an interesting tradition-I didn’t even really want one but they gave them without asking). The most important part for me was a minute to tell Charlie that his music had gotten me down quite a few miles. There was one roadtrip in particular (although his music finds its way into every roadtrip, for obvious reasons once you listen to it) where we were punch drunk form lack of sleep when we got to eastern Kansas, I forget what town. It was March 2005, and we had driven all the way from Huntsville, with a stop at the Jack Daniels distillery. Anyhow, a stop at a drive thru Starbucks, a quick thought of that Starbucks junkie I knew in Virginia Beach, and we were bombing down the final stretch into McPherson, out of our heads from no sleep and cracked out on caffeine. I played “Good Times” about six times in a row, and we laughed and sang along as loudly as we could. Once we got to the house, we collapsed into bed and passed out for hours.
There are so many stories from the road, little snippets from short trips, long trips, what happened at the end, or why they started. It could be anything from burning semis in the early morning, swimming trunks flying out the back at 110, timbers to pick up on the other side of the country, or the opportunity to work on the Gulf of Mexico (very enticing when its cold and snowy in the mountains). There were weddings, funerals, job changes, concerts, women, motorcycles to pick up in the snow, you name it.
I used to think the path your life took was predetermined from the beginning. However, the other day I got to thinking about where I am and how I got here. who knows how far it goes back. If I hadn’t sold Tyler that Honda, I would not have been as good of friends with him to stop on my way from Colorado to Mississippi, and had I not stopped there, he wouldn’t have mentioned going to Iraq to make lots of money, and I wouldn’t be here today. If I hadn’t gotten pulled over in Arizona, I wouldn’t have been at that gas station when I got the heart-wrenching phone call from mom about Grandpa, but if I wasn’t friends with Gary and Brian, I wouldn’t have put Akron on the itinerary, and if I was the sort that used maps, I wouldn’t have been in Sterling! And if I weren’t so lackadaisical about motorcycle maintenance, that headlight wouldn’t have been totally useless all the way to the airport, at ninety miles an hour, crying. And if I hadn’t quit the job I took after I quit the one before to work on log cabins, I wouldn’t have had enough money to take such time off. If I hadn’t talked to Kelli that day at school, I wouldn’t have been as good of friends with her that she would have offered the classes I needed for free. Is it all coincidental? Who knows.
No matter where you end up its all a matter not of what might have happened, but what did happen. Its fun to think about everything that could have happened-how not waiting to cross the street one day could have changed your life forever, or how it might, someday to come. But whatever happened, did, whatever will, will, and whatever is, is. What you make of it is the key. What you take away, what you learn. Hell, what you forget is just as important. If you didn’t forget it, it could change the rest of your life from that moment forward.
What I want to know is, how does the brain store memories? How are we able to access any memory at will, why are they not always crystal clear, and how is the conscious thought process generated and perpetuated? Are our brains like computers? Are computers like our brains? Why is one person attracted to snowboarding and punk rock music, while another likes painting and punk rock, and another likes stealing? Why does one woman like brown-eyed men, and one man prefers curly-haired women above all others? Why does it feel like I have written this before?
I know one thing for sure-if I wasn’t in debt, I would never work this job. As soon as I get out of debt, I hope to work one month to put in the bank, and another month for total play money. Once I am done here, I will be perfectly happy to plug away in the States, enjoy my freedoms and pay my bills. Yes, the money is easy. I can make enough in two months to put a supercharger, big brakes, and flashy rims on my truck. The time passes quite quickly. However, a little voice constantly whispers in my ear, “Remember when your life was yours to live as you pleased? When you could do as you wanted, travel wherever, not look at the skies with apprehension, drink real beer?” Yet somehow the days pass quickly, perhaps because they’re all the same. Perhaps because there’s no large push to get anything done quickly. Patience is a wonderful virtue, and it grows and grows. I’ve never had to sacrifice this much for something I wanted. I’ve never had to face the music this much, buckle down and do something, endure something, I didn’t really enjoy to accomplish a goal. I don’t know if that means I’ll be able to do it again, or if I’ll go back to doing whatever makes me happy and avoiding that which does not.
I haven’t been good at writing letters lately. I feel pressure from myself to do so. I feel like I owe people. Why? Why am I such a people pleaser in that department, when the rest of the time, I don’t care what they think? When the time feels natural, I shall begin to write back. I wish the daily ignorance I’m faced with from every side would go away. Just because I wear a thick chin strap beard people compare me to an Amish man. I have been faced with people making ignorant, stumbling comments about my appearance since middle school. One day I would like to be around people that didn’t feel the need to express their stupidity verbally. Lately I have received two letters in return-one needed postage and one was the wrong address, but it went from here all the way to Georgia and back. Are these signs? Whatever I finally believe will be the conclusion that puts me on the same path I was destined to be on from the beginning. Or will it? Could this perhaps be the beginning of the rest of my life? If she doesn’t get the poems, will that change our relationship? If she doesn’t get the searching, confused letter, will she always think of me differently? Do I care? Is it worth the brainpower to think about it? I think I will, just for fun. Everything’s for fun. I work this job to get out of debt, because debt isn’t fun. I do just about everything else because its fun. I work the jobs I have and will because I think they’re fun. I drink because I think its fun. I smoke because people don’t want me to, and the right person hasn’t come along to make me want to quit. Well, a couple have, and I can blame it on them all I want, but its me, in the end. I like it, what you think about that? The Rebel without a cause smoked, John Wayne, Marlon Brando-MEN smoke. Yea yea, real men don’t. One of these days. I definitely ride bikes because its fun, but its also meditation, release, escape, relaxation, and thrills. Snowboarding is the same. You can make it easy and gentle and harmonious with the song of the earth, the song flowing through your body when everything’s working right, or you can make it a dangerous thrillride through the trees, down an unknown mountain, destination and path unknown. Life is the same way, come to think of it. You can make it whatever you want or need it to be. Slow, calm and gentle, or fast-paced, hard-pushing and reckless, or both on different days. Or the same day. A childhood of pushing the limits to see what I could get away with turned into a lifestyle of pushing the limits, pushing the buttons, pushing myself and pushing others. A childhood of searching, reading, wanting to know more, has turned into a lifestyle of the same-what can I learn today, where can I go, who can I talk to? Who do I want to talk to? Here’s a question: why do I dislike being touched on top of the head? Why do I hate having a flashlight pointed in my face? Why do I not like people poking me in the back? Why can’t I stand it when people stand behind me? Why don’t I like to talk in the mornings? Where did these traits come from? What part or parts of my childhood made these random things part of my life? Is it important to understand why, or should I just accept them and move on? Should I search for a reason, or will it come to me someday? Willie Nelson sang, “I laugh when I can and I live with the rest/I learned that holdin’ on means lettin’ go” and “whatever it is that’s meant to be, sooner or later it’ll come to me.” John Hiatt wrote, and Kevin Welch sang, “I cry when I have to/and I lie when I can/and I die a little slower/on the train to Birmingham” and “I just like the feel of goin’ home.” My home will never be what it was, and it’ll be awhile until I have a home that isn’t bright blue and on the asphalt. But the feeling of home, of going there, of arriving, being there after being somewhere else, that is a wonderful feeling. Oh, life brings many things with it. Each one is different, and they’re all the same.
“Pick up a pizza, pineapple ham/put it in the back of the Good Times van/go around and pick up the rest of the band/we gonna have a good time.” So many things I miss, now only memories. I have been very blessed.

Grass between the toes

if I were a dog, I would chase butterflies. if I were a butterfly I would hang out with flowers. if I were a flower, I would love the sunshine and the rain. I do love the sunshine and the rain. am I a flower? am I a dog? are we all part of the whole, part of everything, part of each other? we are one organism, with separate parts, working together, but for some reason, some goal, we fulfill some small part of some big plan, that we don't understand, just like the flower, the dog, the butterfly, the rain and the sun. so why do we yearn to know more? should we just accept our position, or is our position to question? is that why we're here?

We are all a part of each other. We are all a part of everything. Therefore each person’s wellbeing affects the wellbeing of the whole. The earth’s wellbeing, the animals, the plants. When one person is sad, the whole suffers. Learns, but suffers. Learning always, a constant. Each person’s personal development enhances the development of the whole. The advancements of each person have been made by a person before, but their impact is always different. To help each other is to help everyone, and to hurt one person is to negatively impact the whole.
Friendship is a bond for eternity, if it is pure friendship. It is nothing to be taken lightly. It involves work. Effort. Selflessness. Focus on yourself no more than necessary. Knowing how much effort to reciprocate can be difficult. To invest too much in an impure friendship is to negatively impact the whole. Avoiding issues is no way to act.
These things are known. They are not mysteries. They are not newly discovered. They are as old as the earth. Do not resist them. No matter how you try to avoid such things, they will always be there. Here. in your life, just like sun, food, love, sleep. Necessary. Natural. Beautiful.

On Human Potential

Can a person achieve more than they would have originally if they make different choices? No. The path one walks down is singular. The choices you make do not affect the path, they are the path. If you are to achieve great things, you do so. If not, so be it. To say that a person wasted potential is incorrect. That statement is merely based upon an incorrect assumption of original potential by the observer. For instance, say you think by entering a covenant of marriage and thereafter experiencing the personal growth associated with such a union, you feel you have achieved more personal growth than had you not become married. Or say you have children, and then understand even more about yourself and life in general. This assumption is incorrect, for you have no way of knowing what you would have been like had you not gotten married or had children; you merely assume. Each person is born with a certain allotment of achievement, and whether it comes easily or after a lifetime of struggle, you still end up where you are supposed to be. The key is to understand your predetermined achievement level and accept it. If you feel a drive to achieve more than other people, that doesn’t make you special or unique or better than them in any way other than the obvious-that we are all special and unique. Perhaps your unique quality is to forever strive for more-then that was your lot from the beginning. Perhaps you are content with not achieving as much as other people-in this case, you understand your position, and that your position is necessary. More achievement does not deserve more respect, even though it is viewed that way. We all stand on the same earth, no matter how well we stand on it. Knowing thyself is also knowing what you are not. Accept your being. Every person is different from every other person in some way, just like clouds in the sky.

Original Thought

The laws of physics are inescapable in the natural world. Are there laws in the world of the mind that dictate the direction of thoughts? Are there several goups of laws? Or, when faced with something new, is the mind truly able to move in any direction? Is the direction we think is unique, in fact not? Or is each decision based upon every previous decision or experience, and therefore every person’s thought actions unique? Does the human mind cling to the idea of uniqueness only because to be not unique is to perhaps be not human? How unique does one person have to be, to be human? What level of uniqueness constitutes humanness? If two people experience the exact same experiences, when faced with the same decision, will they both act the same way? Who is to know? How can you answer this quesiont with certainty? If there are no laws that dictate the movement of thoughts, are thoughts then a part of nature? Or are thoughts a part of something more? They are, in fact, extremely powerful. As powerful as the wind, the waves, the sun. they can cause as much good or bad. However, the wind, the waves, the sun, they are a part of nature. They are governed. At least we perceive them to be. Are they? Can one prove it? But what is to prove? Is something truly proven if the proof is discovered via thoughts? For thoughts are controlled by perception, which can be altered. Even if many people perceive something the same way, that does not mean that way is right. But what is right? What is truth? Can you truly trust anything created by man? All things are created (things being thoughts, for now) based on thoughts and perceptions. However, if concrete thoughts, or any thoughts at all really, are not controlled by laws known to be true, then how can you trust said thoughts? Faith and trust, two decisions that must be made very carefully.
The law of gravity. Gravity existed before we knew it existed, but the law did not. It was created. We accept the law, it seems to be right. Do laws such as this also govern the creation of thought? Is there any way to know? What could be gained with this knowledge? If there is no law that governs the creation of thought, what does that make thought? Are thoughts God? What other concept exists that is governed by absolutely nothing, and can create something from a collection of other little things? Are thoughts created from anything? Where did the original thought come from? And why?

A Pain in my Stomach

I have a pain in my stomach. A physical pain, a physical expression of my longing. My longing to be longed for, to be needed. To be pulled close in time of pain, in time of need, in time of uncertainty. I need to be wanted, I need to be necessary. Of few things I am sure, and this is one. I am also sure of pain, of loss, of pure joy and its fleeting shadow, its very short discovery and enjoyment. I am very sure of the pain of life, the joy of life, the joyful pain of life.

I am very sure that she is working towards who she needs to be. I hope she is looking at the moon tonight. I hope one day, she will look at the moon with me, quietly, passionately. I hope one day she looks at me like I long to be looking at her. I have faith that life will unfold in a satisfactory manner, and that it will involve her and I. Of her identity, I am not sure. This uncertainty pains me, but patience learned from life allows me to painfully await her arrival, in all its agonizing slowness. Lava erupts, flows to the sea, and turns once again into rock. The elements are in a fragile balance, and so shall I remain in balance, awaiting the eruption and the flow. I know this is my lot, and so shall I accept it, even though the waiting is painful.

The midnight moon shines upon the desert with a surprisingly bright, ambient, soft, peaceful light, reminding us all that life continues as it has, and it shall indefinentely.

Old Friends

Hey you guys! Wow, I just snuck on MySpace and it was very fulfilling, except that I could not do very much, due to the way I had to access it. Anyhow, I miss all of you. Tyler, Randy, Miranda, Lizzie, Brandy, all those I am not in contact with currently. I need to figure some way to alert ya'll to how to get ahold of me. Hopefully you read the bulletin, but that didn't work last time. No matter. Good friends will stick around and not-so-good ones will fade away. Some will glide back in after several years, as we all know. The course of life is ok, overall. To be at peace with it is to succeed.