666-6666

If discretion is the better part of valor, why don't I just go dig through my car for the new journal I bought instead of pouring my insides out onto the Internet? But this blog was designed to be a connection between you and me for when our schedules conflicted and I could neither talk to you on the phone or write you a letter. I have been sitting at this iPad for days. I am officially addicted to the Internet. Call me.

Occupy This

Sometimes desperation makes me really want to avoid/apply to grad school. Is this the inevitable next step in the whole go-to-high-school-to-get-into-college-to-graduate-with-a-meaningful-yet-useless-degree-that-has-you-intelligently-questioning-the-entire-fabric-of-society-and-existence-until-your-student-loans-and-unemployment-force-you-back-into-the-next-steps-of-grad-school/career/mortgage/kids-that-you-so-cleverly-thought-you-could-avoid-by-learning-about-sustainability/farming/bartering/building/(r)evolution? I feel like a victim of naysayers'

self-fulfilling prophecies.

Do you remember 8am Sociology 101? We were new friends then. You would come to my dorm two doors from yours and literally pull me to class. You walked sure-footedly and I'm still dragging my feet. We read and wept. One of the first things we learned was that we were in college due to society's expectations yet would graduate into a sea of college graduates and not enough qualified jobs. The numbers are black and white. Figures they'd wait until we already bought our textbooks and tuition to tell.

Then, there was Honors class where we analyzed Misfits and Outsiders, mainly to learn that most people worth studying lived miserably outcast lives. Sometimes to console myself, I cite that even Mozart's father wanted him to get a day job.

purer than purest pure

purer than purest pure whisper of a whisper so(big with innocence) forgivingly a once of eager glory,no more miracle may grow --childfully serious flower of holiness a pilgrim from beyond the future's future;and immediate like some newly remembered dream-- flaming a coolly bell touches most mere until (eternally)with(now) luminous the shadow of love himself:who's we --nor can you die or i and every world,before silence begins a star e.e. cummings