"Question yourself, are you really what you seem?"

When I was a little kid, I thought that my teachers spent their whole lives at the school. Some slept under their desks, others nestled into the pillows on the colorful corner rug. One time I saw a teacher outside of school, and I just couldn't believe my eyes.

I think teachers have secret meetings after school where they plot our demise. My professors magically match up the due dates on all of their assignments. Two midterms in one day, three papers due in one week, that sort of thing. Next week I have a presentation on Tuesday, midterm on Tuesday, and midterm on Wednesday. The presentation is supposed to be fifteen minutes about "The Perfume" by John Donne. I don't even know what will be on Tuesday's midterm, as of class today the teacher hadn't even created the test yet! Wednesday's exam is in my Intro to Art class. Yes, that's right. The class that has been canceled at least four times this semester. We are behind on the syllabus, and the teacher has no rhyme or reason to anything he teaches. The review sheet is five pages long with 200 slides that we have to memorize.

So I only have about a paragraph done on the presentation. I am unable to study for the first midterm, and haven't even cracked the book for the second one.

Oh, and I am leaving to go to Richmond, Virginia tomorrow at 6 pm for the entire weekend.

Why do I do these things to myself?!

Two of my favorite paintings :o)

Sunday Afternoon on the Island of la Grande Jatte, Seurat


Dusk, Monet

"How do you stop an exploding man?"

the beginning

"Where does it come from, this quest? This need to solve life's mysteries when the simplest of questions can never be answered? Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all. Not delving, not yearning. But that's not human nature. Not the human heart. That is not why we are here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference, to change the world, to dream of hope, never knowing for certain who we will meet along the way. Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand, touch our hearts, and share the pain of trying?

the end

We dream of hope, we dream of change, of fire, of love, of death. And then it happens; the dream becomes real, and the answer to this quest, this need to solve life's mysteries finally shows itself like the glowing light of the new dawn. So much struggle for meaning, for purpose. And in the end, we find it only in each other. Our shared experience of the fantastic and the mundane. The simple human need to find a kindred. To connect. And to know in our hearts... that we are not alone."

"He'll try in vain to take away the pain of being a hopeless unbeliever"

"I'll tell you why I don't want to know where you are
I got a joke I've been dying to tell you
The silent kid is looking down the barrel
To make the noise that I kept so quiet
I kept it from you, pitseleh

I'm not what's missing from your life now
I could never be the puzzle pieces
They say that god makes problems just to see what you can stand
Before you do as the devil pleases
And give up the thing you love

But no one deserves it

The first time I saw you, I knew it would never last
I'm not half what I wish I was
I'm so angry, I don't think it'll ever pass
And I was bad news for you, just because
I never meant to hurt you"

- Elliot Smith

Janna* says (1:11 AM):
i love incubus

Tempest Bob, Recondite! says (1:12 AM):
do you really love incubus, or are you just looking at demons in the room and saying that you love them

"I could never be the puzzle pieces"

I have always tried to be a good person. I thought that's what the point of life was. I try to start each day with a smile on my face, hoping that it will make a difference to someone. I like doing things for other people. I will always hold the door, help someone up if they fall, say excuse me even if it wasn’t my fault. As I grew up, I started to realize that other people don’t do this. It’s not their fault really; being good doesn’t have the same importance anymore. "Look out for yourself and no one else. It doesn’t matter who you trample on to get what you want. Your happiness is more important."

Maybe I place too much importance on fairness.

I always try to figure out the correct course of action and what is just for everyone. There must be a balance. You can’t just think of yourself in life. Everything that you do affects everyone else, even in the smallest of ways. It is this way of thinking that forces me to be so reserved.

But why? Why don’t other people feel the way I do? Why aren’t they plagued with this need to be a good person? If I do something wrong, I feel guilty about it for a long time. It gnaws at the pit of my stomach. It hurts my karma. For me, being a good person is not a choice. If I’m not, I hate myself for it.

Why doesn’t anyone else feel like this? Have we reached a point in our lives where we just don’t care?

'cause it's too important
to stay the way it's been