Between the Lines

At the start of each day, I wake up bright and happy. Mondays excluded of course. I go through the motions, eat, sleep, shit.Work work work. And then...? Not that I care too much about pondering the meaning of life, but sometimes things get kinda dreary. The people around me just make me wonder sometimes about how much of what we do is  facade. Everytime I think of it, I just tell myself to not overthink things and get on with life. Despite this, I just can't help but wonder: what if I'm right?

Yes?/No?

(Wonder if anyone would notice. Haha. Yea, probably not.)

On Dinosaurs and Meteor Strikes

There seems to be this endless struggle between the desire for stability and the desire for change. Problem is that proponents of one will always lambast the other as either "close-minded" or "anarchist". What can you do?

I myself am personally more a supporter of stability, but that doesn't mean I can't understand the need for change and growth. Still, its never happening fast enough, even though sometimes it feels like its happening too fast.

Is a society that prefers stability, safety, and conformity any lesser than a society that goes for freedom, change and turmoil?

The sad bit is that like any other form of evolution, there is only one true test.

Lets see how the world powers stand twenty years from now.

Sooner or later, we'll have to change.

Sooner or later, they'll have to settle down.

Where will each of us be when the meteor strikes?

Bothering

I really can't talk to anyone, can I.

An Island of Sand

The sky was filled with millions of stars. A young boy tugs at his grandpa's shoulder.

"With so many stars, what happens when one goes out? Would anyone notice?"

 And the grandfather answered:

"No."

"But the universe becomes a little colder.

"And a little less bright."

"insert non-sequitur here"

Can't tell if I'm conforming to unusualness. Sometimes it seems better to be boring. But when you wear a mask too long, it becomes your face.

Facebook is an annoying place to put musings. Twitter seems potentially worse. To pen ones thoughts out to the world in a place where no one would normally look. Why does that seem more appealing? Elistism? Pseudo-secrecy? Fear of feedback? Sigh...

To Quench

The young seed is thirsty
The sapling seeks space
The old tree is mighty
The snag falls with grace

You have come late to the fountain, but please drink your fill
It is not age nor talent but a simple case of will

Cracks in the Wall

I can't pretend to understand.  But his thoughts were my thoughts.

And as the other mentioned, in many ways, we are all the same.

Is there really such a thing as the elite?

Luck and fortune huh...

No tears. Just emptiness. Watching a once-bright candle in the dark go out.