The snow falls in tons.

Finally, it is weekend. The snow will attempt to be an obstacle, but I intend to overcome. It is Halloween and I am happy. 

 

The smiles return.

Let's all be artists. Let's live our life, day to day, viewing the world as something new an exciting. Let's set aside the desire for confrontation and give hugs instead. And finally, let's enjoy Jack Conte. 

sigh.

For all that is going so so right, I cannot help but feel that there is always more going wrong. Is that just life?

So very me.

I am so far behind in my classes that I am actually not attempting to catch up until I get an email response from my teachers, informing of me of "what it's gonna take" to pass. I have never done this bad. Straight F's. That means that I am a failure, four-fold. 

Oh well. I'm feeling really anti-humanity right now. These are my peers. Boo.

The Duke Spirit's "Neptune" permeates my skull.

Being replaced, in any facet, is always unsettling. Even if I am being replaced in a situation that I didn't even care about when I was involved. I become extremely narcissistic, wondering, "how the hell could anyone ever replace me." Then I just have to swallow my pride and say, "so it is."


 

Outside my window is a powder sugar spill.

I hate snow. I always have. I always will. I don't snowboard, ski, or ice fish. I have no use for it. Snow is an inconvenience and it'll only get worse.

I am ...

Jesus.

I am mentally preparing to pose as Jesus for a painting. The preparation isn't so much the fact that I'm posing for the painting, but, rather, that I am starting to look enough like Jesus to pose as him. At least I get to hold a gun.

Life is much easier without a care.

I would dry your tears only because they make me uncomfortable.

My car becomes comfortable when I reach my destination.

"Make a little cafe in your soul"

The shop is quiet, with the only audio coming from the Arcade Fire that I put on through the P.A. Sunrise enthusiasts, pump away on treadmills a few doors down. I'm always surprised at how quickly the sky lightens. I prefer it like this. It makes me want to open up a coffee shop that is never open to the public, but somehow convince myself to show up at 6AM and stay for 8 hours. I would bring lots of stuff to do and would get a lot of stuff done. There would be guests and free drinks until all of the supplies were gone - then the store would close.

Tonight I was punched in the face by an American flag.

I feel Cat Stevens and Elliott Smith in my blood. I desire to write music that rocks without rocking. That says something. I want to write haunting and beautiful melodies. Something that somebody, somewhere, listens to while they lay in bed, thinking of how much they can relate to every word I hum. I will sing of seashell eyes and windy smiles. I will write, even if it ends up just being for myself.

Walmart patrons love electric mobility.

My iPod is on shuffle and there is dishwater on my shoe.

With a stomach full of herbal tea and cookies, I try to find the desire to do schoolwork. I'm sitting in a cafe, aching to leave; all the while, music from The Incredibles blares over the P.A. In my procrastination, I unveil this blog. 

My intentions are usually the same when I start these things: document my life, share links, art, music, and film, and of course the occasional rant and rave. But I'm not going to set any specific standards. The theme, feel, and purpose of this journal will likely change from day to day. Perhaps, eclecticism, itself, will become the standard. Regardless, welcome.