he said he wanted to be a rockstar and travel and see the pyramids. he made meticulous plans, a lucid vision of his future. but, as time slipped away, so did his dreams, buried in immediate pleasures and split second fame.

she worked at a desk job. a good job. a well paying, boring, lifeless job. she was sick like stars stuck in a world with no night. she was never seen. she had dreams, visions, prophecies, she gave them up for a three course family and a four wheel drive SUV. she never forgot what no one ever knew.

his name was stephen and he was six. he knew what he wanted to do. he played outside all day, with his friends, with his toys, his dreams held closely to his heart, because, as his parents had proven, soon they will be gone and there memory will be the only remains.

listening - Mates of state: I know, and I said forget it

I see homeless people a lot, begging for money, digging through garbage bins, and collecting cans to recycle (5 cent refund per can).

They all seem to have the same lifeless expressions on there face. It's not necessarily the look of sadness, but the look of someone who has lost hope, someone who has seen the fall of rome, someone who has witnessed the holocaust and survived. And yet they hold on to life. Life is all that they have.

Our lives are so full of things, things that we hold on to and call our own, things that entertain us, amenities that pamper us. We are a consumer nation, sick with crazed money frenzy. All these things pile up and define us, and together we define "modern civilization."

But, I wonder, if these homeless people were given the amenities, the triple shot latte's, the fancy cars, a closet full of gap trends, would they be any happier then they are now?

Or, if we suddenly lost all material possessions, would we be any sadder?

I think that all of these.. these things, are just cushions. They may damper the pain, but they can't erase it, they can only mask it. In fact, underneath it all we are no better, no happier, and no different then the homeless men I see every day. The only thing that seperates us from the homeless people is the contents of our wallet.

or maybe I'm wrong

There is something peculiar about online journals. Something foreign, exotic, and personal. This daily venting of real life angst, melancholy, anger, and happiness, is merely that; a vent. And yet, the words are thrown to the world like a message in a bottle, back-of-the-mind hoping that someone will pick it up, examine it, and in turn come to your aid, like some sort of fairy tale.

But that is not the case. Not at all.

This site begain, oh, almost eight months ago. In that time I have learned more about myself then I ever did my previous eighteen years. It begain as a place for me to say the things that were on my mind. I truly wasn't even concerned about people actually reading it, I didn't and don't even have a counter. Through nights of drilling my brain for some sort of creative idea to fill these pages, I have learned a lot about myself, about the people I know, and about the world.

What I have gained from this is purely a sturdier stance in my opinions, of my view of life, of my future, of my past. Through pouring out my mind I have been able to sort through it and pick out the things that I want to hold on to. I have discovered what I value and what I despise. What I lack, and what I love.

That is why I write here. I hope that you, the glossy-eyed passerby, will find some sort of value out of my self exploration.

Man. I come hear now and I don't know what to write. I have always been the one to dwell on a somber thought and bottle it up, harnassing the energy created by that clashing of emotional elements, trying to draw from it. But, as of late, it hasn't been like that. Instead of drawing energy from my own self loathing, I am drawing from others, from fresh air, from trees, from everything. My nightly reflection time normally spent bottled in my room, essentially partitioning my self from everyone, is spent hanging out with my room mates, playing guitar, and enjoying myself.

I spent the night at a friends house downtown on saturday night. We walked around the town like idiots, quite overdoing ourselves with caffeine and nicotine (gasp.). I like waking up downtown and walking out in to the streets, with everyone around and sounds everywhere.

I am working on a multimedia project on the band radiohead, using flash and authorware, for a class of mine. These are some preliminary sketches of what it might look like. please give comments. ?

oh, and don't mind the mild html glitch (see: orange line repetition on left). Im way to lazy to fix it.

I can't really put in to words how great my last few days have been. I wasn't going to talk about it here, but it is really the only thing on my mind right now so I might as well. I started taking medication for depression and anxiety about a week ago, and in one week the world has completely changed. I am no longer plagued and scared of my own thoughts. My head is clear and I can function on a normal level, and my social life has already improved greatly.

Yesterday I wasted the day away with a good friend of mine. We meandered around the city, stopping at coffee shops and pizzicata for lunch. It's really nice to just waste a day away with friends, with no cares, and no worries.