Watching the screen with smiles on our faces, the scene changed drastically. My stepdads voice was narrating. He was crying, uncontrollably crying. Recording the remains of our dream home, our three story log cabin that we adored. The flames were still flying, as if the goal was to break free and lick the sky. Our home that we loved and cherished had burned to the ground, leaving charred remains and broken hearts.

Watching home videos is something that people think of as a nice time to remember the past. And it was going great, candid disneyland shots, christmas memories, etc. Until the scene changed, bringing up memories that had been stowed away and an attempt had been made at forgetting them.

I couldn't believe how quickly my stomach felt sick, hearing my step dad cry is a horrible thing. Empathy can be a horrible thing. He videotaped everything, as the police showed up and questioned people watching. As the newspaper reporters showed up to take pictures for the next day's front page. He passed the camera to someone nearby, I am not sure who, my mom and him walked up to the fire. Turning around to reveal tear soaked faces and gut wrenching facial expressions, my stepdad hugged my mom and kissed her on the forehead. They cried in unison.

Losing a home was the most horrible and impacting thing to ever happen to me, while it was nearly five years ago, It still hurts. Walking out of school, my mom picked me up and attempted to break the news to me softly, but how do you tell someone that everything they have ever owned is gone? I wore the same clothes to school the next day, they were now the only possessions that I owned.

I finally added some new pictures to the photography section. This time, rather then just point and shoot at anything I wanted, I went looking for subjects. I was going for simple. I had planned on adding a comments link for each picture, but it seems blogback isn't accepting any new members. So, until I find a good commenting system, that will have to wait.

I would really like to hear any comments on my new photographs though. So, you can either mail me, or add a comment to this post. thank you!

Sitting in a desk, in the corner of the room. Looking around at faces, faces that no doubt have a million stories behind them. I am just another face. I like to think that somehow I am different, but really, am I? We all have our secrets, our passions, and beliefs. Physically we are all different, but we share a common trait in that we all have similar feelings, the subject and objective may be different, but the feelings are the same. Is any one person's beliefs and passions any more significant than another's?

oh jesus, I have to stop thinking so much.

So, its thanksgiving. Soon I will be sitting around a very large table, next to familiar faces, eating a feast fit for a king. I am feeling rather unmotivated today, so I decided to post one of my personal journal entries. So, here goes nothing:

Sitting here, I look around at a room full of nothing. Empty thoughts cascade like a waterfall, through my fingers and on to the screen. I can taste the sweet smell of beauty in the air, smelling the afterthoughts of moments past. I look at the floor in a whirlwind of inspiration collaged with angst and dismay. looking through the windows, lined with a grey stripe surrounded in white, I see a mother with three children. They are all holding hands, looking at the ground as they walk. I can see them walking in to the market, where they will be selling there days bread. I see a tear in the mothers eye, not a tear of pain, a tear of wonder. As she recieves her trades, she looks at her children and smiles. she is full of love. The tear that had been colllecting at the corner of her eye slowly gives way, sliding down to the base of her nose, catching on her upper lip where she licks it away. Pain will not get the best of her today, no it wont. There is too much to love, too much to enjoy, and three hungry mouths to feed. She is a mother, and while the path is ruff and full of obstacles, she will make it.

Oh, and I have been horrible at keeping up with the the photography section. As soon as I get some spare time I will once again go exploring with my camera. And soon I will be adding comments to each of the photographs, so you can give me your input. fun fun

Clocking on at 7:15, I walked outside to smoke a cigar.
The snow was lit by the soft light luminating from the nearby streetlights. Looking around, soft beams of light reflected off nearby cars penetrate my eyes and leave polaroids in my mind. There was magic in the air. There is something special about spending time alone, with yourself, and the stars, and the streets. Watching the cars go by, trying to see the faces inside, no doubt in the midst of there daily, mind numbing routine. Driving to a job that they dislike, heads full of dreams. I wonder why people do this to themselves, why they live a life so full of possibilities and dreams, yet they recluse to the mundane average life. There is so much out there, so much to love, so much to admire, so much to strive toward.

I honestly don't get it, but, I am still young.

Nineteen years is enough to see how the world works, how a misstep in life can send a bullit through the windshield of your dreams, sending you in a different path. But, there are ways to get around that. Just because something has hindered the quest, that doesnt make the goal unreachable, does it?

I just wish life came with a manual, so that every mistake could be easily corrected and I could be sent on my way unblemished.

I have built myself up several times now, my heart beating a thousand beats per minute as I type in the digits that connect me to my father. And every time I have been let down, the dull, faded sound of an answering machine being my only response. I really don't know how many times I can do this to myself, I have decided to wait until tonight, rather then put myself through hell trying to call all day.

_ _ _

Alright, I was looking through amazon last night, finding all kinds of books that I wanted. And you know what? I am so poor, so very poor. Being that, I am going to college in about a month now, every single penny I get is going towards school and an apartment. It really saddens me, I have nothing to feed my lust for information. So, I made a wish list. I know, I know. I was hoping, maybe, just maybe, one of my great readers would be nice enough to support a poor aspiring future college student. And no, I am not selling out. Just a silent cry from the depths of poor'dom.