I have this dream.

There's this mantel, like an unfinished landscape the size of my thoughts. And there's this person painting on it from time to time. They add some trees here and there, and some flowers and the glowing son. It's like a Bob Ross painting where he paints birds at the flick of the wrist and he makes it look so easy. Only in this painting it's not just a landscape it's a also a portrait and every now and then the artist is not sure of what the person should look like. And whenever I can slip away from the world the artist adds some color to the piece. But there are some times where that person won't paint for weeks and months at a time. And in the back of my mind there's that piece with so many white spaces and the unfinished image of the person in the picture, but what is really noticeable is the unfinished smile of the figures face. The figures supposed to be me of course but the artist has to patiently wait until I can finally tell him what I want to portrait to look like, and he just waits and doesn't mind that he's not getting paid. Hmm.

I have so many thoughts in my head. I have three poems I want to write one called "Rich Guy/Poor Guy" and "Clean-up Man" and..."I know you like me or favorite fantasy". But I haven't been able to that because I feel like if I'm doing that then I am wasting time not doing what I should be doing so I try to figure out what I'm supposed to do first until there's no time left and I realized...I just wasted another day.
I dream. I have this one dream where the songs that I constantly create and sing in my head are recorded and the world just loves it.

That I finally finish this book.

That I finally start acting again.

That I get in the shape I want to be in.

That I complete my art projects.

Life tastes good. Coca Cola.

I was watching the movie "Click" and the remote salesman says to the guy screwing around with his life "Remember the Leprachaun"
and the other guys like "Huh...Catch me lucky charms...that guy?"
and the salesman's like "He spends his life chasing the treasure but in the end...it's just corn flakes."
A lot of us realize this too late. It's just corn flakes, it's just money, it's just...things.
And Coke tried to convince me once that the taste of Coca Cola was "Life" but you know what? It's just syrup and carbonated water with little nutritional value and is really worth less than 5 cents but here I am paying 1.25 for a bottle. But the commercials are so convincing that I really thought life was in that bottle and that I could taste it.

Life. Life..it's so...you know. Mysterious. It's like why am I here. Some people aren't here but I am. Do I deserve to be here? I guess...because I'm here. But is it really a privilege to be here on Earth. Is perishing a blessing but many of us just haven't realized it yet? I know I must thank God for everything I have but when he takes someone's life are they not blessed? God wants me here for a reason and once that reason is fulfilled he no longer has use for me on earth. That's what I think, that's the only reasoning that I can think of when I see so much pain and suffering in the world, especially in children who die so young. I think that when a people die young it's god giving them higher chances to get into heaven because maybe sometime in their future they would end up doing something that would really limit their chances of getting into heaven. They leave this earth at such a young age, and we say "why?" And "how could there be a God?" But one day the inquisitors will leave this earth just as that child did and we realize that in the end we all end up the same, in the end is truth. So I'm thinking and thinking..why am I here and I try to imagine what it's like to not be here. But I can't, it's so strange to imagine yourself just not existing that one day there just won't be a tomorrow for me. So I ask myself what it is that I should be accomplishing.. ..is the path already set in my heart?

The length of that path is chosen by God and if I continue to look to him for directions I'll follow that path until he no longer has use for me on this earth. Or, I can ignore the path and go where I want I continue to seek satisfaction without GOD and not accomplish what God intended for me and die ignoring my built in GPS system [soul]. My life is a little bit of inbetween. I get on the path, I fall off. I try to take a short cut and end up trying to find the path again with my tail between my legs and divine fate just standing there with a yard stick in his hand shaking his head. "Who told you to go there? Look at you, coming back here with all these insect bites and scratches"divine fate would say to me.

Life is not just black and white. It's not just right and wrong. Sometimes right is wrong and wrong is right. If and old Mets fan was lying in his deathbed and the only thing that could make him smile was tell him that the Mets won the play offs on his dying day, well guess what? That's what I would tell him. Because the end is what matters. The quality of life is what matters. Quality is measured in happiness and genuine moments and meaningful relationships.

It's 2: 19

I know it is. And the timer is wrong on here and I never feel like fixing it. I decided I would through the motions of switching to the new blogger. I think the only difference is a few new templates. I'm a little under the influence of of (notice the doubling of the "of"s that was not intentional that was an error) fermented drinks. What I'm saying is I'm a little tipsy. But before this I kept saying I need to internet log things before I forget them and their lost in competing thoughts. So I said you know what I can't sleep and it'll be interesting to look back on this time when I couldn't stop thinking about that time when I was at Chipotle a couple days ago. It was last week and I was feeling a little invisible. That's how I usually feel and I think one day I won't but that day I did. So I'm sitting outside eating my overpriced food that I should have cooked at home and this guy with a faux hawk came walking outside and his friend is standing there, kind of next to my table, and he's just standing there. And he says to the guy with the faux hawk "Dude you have a staring problem." and Faux Hawk says "What? I was staring at you." and I'm there looking kind of mean as usual, a facial expression I had since I was a kid because I looked how I felt and now I can't change that face. So I'm kind of on autopilot, I mean I'm there and I'm moving and I chewing but I'm not really there, I think I was in the third grade or high-school or Chicago, but I wasn't really at that table. And then all of a sudden I realize where I'm at and I realize what he said and we're the only ones outside so..... if he's convincing his friend that he was looking at him does that mean....that he really was looking at...me? And he walks up to his friend and he has the mischievous grin on his face as his other friend joins him and I feel the stares. And he didn't even seem like the type to stare at brown skinned girls but times change and so do preferences but I didn't notice because I was in London. I then I look at the time and my lunch is almost over and so I walk past...and I'm in Miami and I could have sworn, I would have bet money that he said "that's a banging ass man". They looked liked surfers that's what I call extremely white bread american their parents are probably republican but their rebelling so they go surfing and are pretty much apathetic...light beige guys. Looking at tight khakis and brown eyes that have no idea what is going on until she walks into her car and realize they watched her walk there. I'm not ashamed of feeling a little less invisible. But I can't help to wonder if I would have cared if it was a group of brown skinned bold hey girl what's your name let me get a taste of that lunch guys. I probably would have still been in Norway. This blog probably would have still been the same. My ears are ringing louder than usual.

It's like I'm a mime trapped in that box that their always trapped in, but their is no box! They made it up it's not real, nonbelievers just stick their hand through the invisible wall and shake their heads but the mime is aware of it's structure and of course it's just an act for them, they go home and wash of the make-up and talk all they want but I can't seem to separate the invisible box from the real world and sometimes I feel like I need to explain so people won't think I'm strange everytime I get so nervous about invisible fears I wish could say..."Oh yeah...I know I act strange but there's this wall, you can't see it but, to me it's there and it's preventing me from..." but I can't because that's so weird. It's 2:59...think that's enough.

Jesus is gangsta kinda

John 2: 13-16

Since the Passover of the Jews was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there. He made a whip out of chords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those sold their doves he said, "Take these out of here, and stop making my father's house a marketplace."

Now this is how I look at this situation. Jesus is with his deciples and they're approaching a temple which he planned on preaching the gospel and worshipping, or maybe he was just walking by and the temple caught his attention. The outside is crowded with hustlers. He is hot.Whether if it's Today, yesterday or 2,000 years ago there was one thing you did not do, and that was mess with people and their money. A sheep now: groceries for some weeks, and ox: food and a car, doves: food, pet, cell phone. Can you imagine today a group of people just chilling, selling goods, their life depends on it. And somebody just comes up and OVERTURNS your table, throws away your money, and let's your valuable goods walk away. And your hot, your steamed, you think those things rightfully belong to you. And the destroyer who looks like a normal guy says to you. "This is my father's house." and you have no idea who this man is. But he's so gangsta that you and the people around you do nothing about it. Because his words are like bullets and he makes you think...well...I guess I'll have to take my business elsewhere. And that's it, that's all you and the people around you do, in the times of stoning and chopping off feet. Wow.